Column for syndication for New Year's Eve weekend December 2021

Revisited -- How'd that turn out?

 

If any of my 2021 columns left you wondering "How'd that turn out?" then you may want to read this year-end column. Please consider it my epilogue to a handful of 2021 writings.

 

For instance, in the year's first column, I told you that my brother died of COVID just before Christmas 2020. Milton was mesmerized with conspiracy theories, a COVID denier opposing the vaccines. 

 

"How'd that turn out?" you might ask.

 

Well, first of all, I was moved by dozens of sympathy cards you sent from around the country.  And your compassion was supplemented by FEMA when they reimbursed us for funeral costs.

 

Knowing the column might provoke folks to deny COVID as my brother's actual cause of death, I elaborated: "Milton's real causes of death were the fabrications spread by the anti-science, anti-vaxxers, anti-fluoride, flat-earthers and 5G coronavirus conspirators. He may not have swallowed their bleach, but he sure drank the Kool-Aid."

 

A month later, I gratefully received my "Victory Vax" and wrote about seeking a haircut. I found a young stylist who seemed more than willing to talk about the pandemic.

 

She was relying on her natural immunities to resist the virus -- no vaccines for her.

 

A few months ago, I revisited that barber shop to answer the burning question -- "How'd that turn out?" The manager invited me to his chair and, as he plowed through my wispy locks, he described working through the quarantine-induced staff shortage.

 

When I mentioned the "naturally immune" stylist who last cut my hair, the aging manager wasn't shy about telling me how he'd promptly fired her when she brought COVID to work. 

 

Last month, I concluded my Veteran's Day column by saying, "To a person, most vets will say, "Thank us, but please don't worship or pity us. We've enjoyed pretty good pay and benefits for our sacrifices."

 

And speaking of those benefits, I want to thank John and Mary Taxpayer for how things have turned out for me after 28 years of service.

 

Thanks to the GI Bill, I'm working on my Master of Journalism degree at University of Nevada, Reno. I'm halfway through the program and remain on the Dean's List. Visit my website to read how professors encouraged me to convert several columns into recorded commentary for my local radio station.

In April, having been vaccinated and liberated, I wrote about my return to Honduras where we go to support Chispa Project. Since the charity was founded by my daughter Sara in 2015, Chispa donated over 35,000 books to establish elementary school libraries.

 

I shared how the pandemic was hurting Honduras schools, so I "pledged to match every donation from readers this year up to $5,000. Buck for buck, let's band together to blanket Honduras with hope and send kids back to school."

 

By now you should know your line. So go ahead and ask me. How'd that turn out?

 

Thanks to your help, the program in 2021 was a great success in giving kids free homework materials and library books to check out.  

 

Chispa is now ramping up for 2022, as each year has been better than the last. The ambitious goals plan for several larger libraries which will reach an additional 3,500 students. Will you help us? Donate or come volunteer with me! Find out more at chispaproject.org/volunteertrip

 

Also in October, I noted the twentieth anniversary of this column. I thanked you for "buying my books, hosting my speeches and sending me hundreds of compassionate emails and letters.

"It's been such a great twenty years that I'm setting my sights on 25," I promised.

After all, how else am I going to justify that shiny new Journalism degree?

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Donations are gratefully received by Chispa Project either online or by check made to "Chispa Project" and sent to Norris Burkes 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602.

 

To read these columns and more, please visit my website at www.thechaplain.net Please contact by email at comment@thechaplain.net or voicemail at (843) 608-9715.

 

 

Correction in ninth paragraph for Christmas weekend December 2021

The second sentence in the ninth paragraph should read:

 

We pack religion full of rituals, ceremonies and routines and bypass the simplicity intended.

 

 

Faith should come with a warning label

 

Did you happen to notice the warning labels that came attached to the Christmas presents you gave or received? While some are quite funny, these cautionary labels are likely inspired by lawsuits.

 

The stickers counsel you to do such things as "Remove child from stroller before folding." Or, and this is real, "Once used rectally, this thermometer should not be used orally."

 

The irony of these warnings is they are written for witless people who rarely stop to read such things.

 

Nevertheless, they got me thinking how these cautionary caveats might be amended into a helpful list for anyone contemplating a faith commitment for their New Year's resolutions.

 

Let's start with the one you might see on your holiday car purchase.

 

1."Objects may be closer than they appear."

 

This imprint on your car mirror warns you that distances vary greatly from how you see them in your right-sided view.

 

If I could modify it, I would counsel the faithful: "Truth may be simpler than it appears."

 

I say "simple" because we have a way of complicating our faith, causing it to become more convoluted and contrived than it should be. We pack religion full of rituals, ceremonies and routines and bypass the simplicity intended.

 

As I've said in past columns, Jesus encouraged his followers to enter the faith journey as little children. In other words, KISS: "Keep It Simple Silly." Jesus taught that the faith-walk of following God should "hang on these two commandments: 1. Love the Lord your God with all your heart; 2. Love your neighbor as yourself."

 

Faith ought not to include a long list of indecipherable assembly instructions. There really are just two: Love God; love others.

 

2. "Your mileage may vary." (YMMV)

 

This is the advice repeated by the salesman who once sold me a plug-in Prius. The car is supposed to get between 50-95 mpg, but I saw only 55 mpg. This doesn't mean the salesman lied to me. It means that good mileage is subject to driving conditions, speed and mostly the nut behind the wheel — me.

 

When it comes to faith, experiences truly do vary. For instance, I won't dispute that faith can heal people of their diseases or help them walk on coals. However, I do dispute that faith is a one-size-fits-all deal. YMMV. Don't force yours to fit me and I won't make mine fit you.

 

3. "Game requires two or more players."

 

You may read this on the side of the video game you gave your grandchildren. It's more a qualification than a warning label.  But when you apply it to your faith community you see that faith requires multiple players.

 

It's an element I hear in Jesus' promise: "When two or three of you are together because of me, you can be sure that I'll be there" (Matt. 18:20 Message).

 

Whenever I meet someone who proclaims faith as a "solo practice," I can't help but wonder where they find the three elements necessary in a contemplative religious life: encouragement, accountability and community.

 

4. "Wearing of this garment does not enable flight." I read this one on the Superman pajamas I once gave my grandson.

 

The words certainly seem superfluous, but like the Superman emblem, faith can sometimes encourage "flights of fancy." The pajama warning could easily include the folks who play the faith card as if they are invincible to harm or criticism. 

 

5. Finally, "Harmful if swallowed."

 

This is a cautionary label attached to countless products, but I found it particularly amusing on a brass fishing lure with a three-pronged hook.

 

It's also a good admonition concerning all elements of religion. In other words, "Don't just swallow everything you hear or are told about faith."

 

Particularly  when reading a witty and talented spirituality columnist.

 

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Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

 

 

Column for syndication for Christmas weekend December 2021

Faith should come with a warning label

 

Did you happen to notice the warning labels that came attached to the Christmas presents you gave or received? While some are quite funny, these cautionary labels are likely inspired by lawsuits.

 

The stickers counsel you to do such things as "Remove child from stroller before folding." Or, and this is real, "Once used rectally, this thermometer should not be used orally."

 

The irony of these warnings is they are written for witless people who rarely stop to read such things.

 

Nevertheless, they got me thinking how these cautionary caveats might be amended into a helpful list for anyone contemplating a faith commitment for their New Year's resolutions.

 

Let's start with the one you might see on your holiday car purchase.

 

1."Objects may be closer than they appear."

 

This imprint on your car mirror warns you that distances vary greatly from how you see them in your right-sided view.

 

If I could modify it, I would counsel the faithful: "Truth may be simpler than it appears."

 

I say "simple" because we have a way of complicating our faith, causing it to become more convoluted and contrived than it should be. We pack religion full of rituals, ceremonies and routines overcome the simplicity intended.

 

As I've said in past columns, Jesus encouraged his followers to enter the faith journey as little children. In other words, KISS: "Keep It Simple Silly." Jesus taught that the faith-walk of following God should "hang on these two commandments: 1. Love the Lord your God with all your heart; 2. Love your neighbor as yourself."

 

Faith ought not to include a long list of indecipherable assembly instructions. There really are just two: Love God; love others.

 

2. "Your mileage may vary." (YMMV)

 

This is the advice repeated by the salesman who once sold me a plug-in Prius. The car is supposed to get between 50-95 mpg, but I saw only 55 mpg. This doesn't mean the salesman lied to me. It means that good mileage is subject to driving conditions, speed and mostly the nut behind the wheel — me.

 

When it comes to faith, experiences truly do vary. For instance, I won't dispute that faith can heal people of their diseases or help them walk on coals. However, I do dispute that faith is a one-size-fits-all deal. YMMV. Don't force yours to fit me and I won't make mine fit you.

 

3. "Game requires two or more players."

 

You may read this on the side of the video game you gave your grandchildren. It's more a qualification than a warning label.  But when you apply it to your faith community you see that faith requires multiple players.

 

It's an element I hear in Jesus' promise: "When two or three of you are together because of me, you can be sure that I'll be there" (Matt. 18:20 Message).

 

Whenever I meet someone who proclaims faith as a "solo practice," I can't help but wonder where they find the three elements necessary in a contemplative religious life: encouragement, accountability and community.

 

4. "Wearing of this garment does not enable flight." I read this one on the Superman pajamas I once gave my grandson.

 

The words certainly seem superfluous, but like the Superman emblem, faith can sometimes encourage "flights of fancy." The pajama warning could easily include the folks who play the faith card as if they are invincible to harm or criticism. 

 

5. Finally, "Harmful if swallowed."

 

This is a cautionary label attached to countless products, but I found it particularly amusing on a brass fishing lure with a three-pronged hook.

 

It's also a good admonition concerning all elements of religion. In other words, "Don't just swallow everything you hear or are told about faith."

 

Particularly  when reading a witty and talented spirituality columnist.

 

---------------------------------------------

 

Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

 

 

Column for syndication for third weekend December 2021

 

Season of Joy or Season of Woe

 

 

We are only one weekend away from Christmas which probably has at least a few of us wanting to skip the seasonal holiday.

 

I get it. If only we could hibernate until mid-January, right?

 

But for some of us, the feeling is not just about the holiday hustle. The blues have come for us because we are among those who have lost a loved one in the past few years.

 

In 2020, I lost my best friend of 45 years, Roger. He was like a brother, even closer. We shared everything from education to careers to family gatherings.

 

Then, two months later, I lost my actual brother, Milton, to COVID. So, like some of you, I find my holiday bag full of grief instead of gifts.

 

As a hospice chaplain, I'm privileged to work with bereavement counselors who have, over the years, recommended antidotes for the December doldrums. I've shared these tips with many, and today I share them with you.

 

First, the counselors tell me that nearly everything the grieving person feels in the first year of a loss is very likely normal. It's natural for the grief-stricken to exhibit low energy, flatline emotion, poor concentration, and a desire to withdraw socially.

 

Even with that overwhelming desire to withdraw, many folks admit that they don't really want to miss the holidays. But they feel that celebrating so soon after the death of a loved one is disrespectful toward the memory of the one they've lost.

 

They try to avoid parties because they don't want to be a "downer," but they'll drudge through them as their duty to family or co-workers. However, the social distancing makes it easier to avoid the "mandatory fun" of the office parties.  

 

My hospice advisors also remind me that it's OK for grieving people to limit their holiday participation to the most modest amount possible. Don't let anyone insist that we assuage our hurt by keeping Christmas in the same big way.

 

Following their advice, be determined to find the simple way of doing things. No one says we have to do everything with everybody. Some folks find it helpful to place signs on their mirror or refrigerator that remind them not to overdo, over-shop or over-cook.

 

If this is the second or third year since your loss, you might be ready to restart the holidays. If so, begin creatively. For instance, I plan to put a special plate at the holiday table for the ones I lost. I've even heard of instances where the children ask to have that special plate at their table.

 

Or perhaps we might dare ask family and friends to bring an ornament for your tree that reminds them of the one lost. Encourage them to tell a story while they hang it.

 

Whether this is your first year in loss or your 10th year, there are some things that work for nearly everyone, even if they aren't grieving.

 

Those things include being clear with your family about what you want from them in terms of emotional support. Be clear because, as they say, "mind-reading is best left up to fortune tellers."

 

Finally, when the New Year rolls in, there are at least two ways to avoid the melancholies of January.

 

First, volunteer somewhere. Since many will limit their charitable giving to December, shelters and kitchens can find it nearly impossible to fill their volunteer needs in January.

 

Second, get away if you can, preferably to a sunny place. You'd be pleasantly surprised to find out how cheap January travel can be.

 

Finding hope beyond your grief is the toughest journey you will take. My prayer for you is that you might begin that recovery and find that next Christmas will bring you "good tidings of great joy."

 

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Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

 

Column for syndication for second weekend December 2021

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

 

For those of you looking for the perfect last-minute Christmas present, I have an idea.

 

How about giving someone a kidney?

 

Brilliant, right?

 

The idea occurred to me one holiday season while taking a break from my hospital-chaplain job to renew my military ID.

 

The military clerk worked hard to quickly return me to my civilian job, but she failed to check the box on my ID indicating my desire to be an organ donor.

 

When I pointed out the omission, she gladly fixed it.

 

"Thanks," I told her, "It's for Elaine."

 

"Elaine?"

 

"Well, for Elaine and all the people like Elaine," I said.

 

Her puzzled look invited a more thorough explanation, so I happily recounted meeting Elaine in our hospital dialysis unit. Elaine was an energetic Guam native whose constant excitement about life gave her a smile that challenged the boundaries of her face.

 

"Isn't dialysis for people who don't have livers?" asked the clerk.

 

"No, livers are more serious. Dialysis is for people who don't have functioning kidneys.

 

"In place of kidneys, people like my friend Elaine go to a dialysis clinic three times a week for 3-1/2 hours or more. At the clinic, their entire blood supply is pumped through a filter to remove impurities."

 

"What kind of impurities?"

 

"The kind of impurities normally filtered out in our pee."

 

"Pardon?"

 

"Urine is how healthy kidneys remove impurities from your body," I explained. "If you don't have a kidney, then you need dialysis to remove those impurities. And while thankful for this life-saving process, many patients like Elaine wait for a kidney that will free them from the limitations of dialysis.

 

"That's why it's important for us to have the box checked on our IDs and driver's licenses."

 

"Cool," she said as she returned my warmly laminated ID and dismissed me to return to my job.

 

Thirty minutes later, I was back at the hospital where I, coincidently, ran into Elaine.

 

"Chaplain, did you hear? I got a kidney transplant last month from a 45-year-old accident victim."

 

"Wow!" I exclaimed, adding a mumbled postscript, "Glad they checked the right box on their ID."

 

"Pardon me, Chaplain?"

 

"Oh, uh, nothing. That's an amazing Christmas present. You look so great."

 

"Yeah," she said reaching in her pocket for her bottled water. "This is what's really amazing. I can drink all of this."

 

Most dialysis patients are unable to urinate and have rigid liquid limitations. Too much liquid and the lungs are flooded. Without dialysis, patients literally drown.

 

"Wow," I said. "Let me buy you a soda."

 

For the next 30 minutes, Elaine and I talked as she drank her soda and swallowed the 17 pills she takes three times a day. With the prospect of spending Christmas with her new gift, she was giddy and grateful, thoughtful and thankful, playful and prayerful.

 

Finally, she stood to make her exit, "Well, Chaplain, it looks like it's time for me to go."

 

"Oh," I said, saddened that our impromptu celebration had ended so quickly. "Where are you going?"

 

Mustering a big smile, she pointed across the hall. I returned that smile when I saw her finger pointing to the women's restroom.

 

"Merry Christmas, Elaine."

 

Additional Facts

According to the United Network for Organ Sharing (UNOS) 39,717 organs — hearts and kidneys— were transplanted into U.S. residents in 2019. Unfortunately, 17 people die each day because the organ they need is unavailable. More than 112,000 people are on the waiting list for an organ transplant. Visit Organ Donor.gov or kidneyregistry.org.

 

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Column excerpted from Norris' book, "No Small Miracles." Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.