A Short meme for what was for many a shortened week:
Five noteworthy Short things in my life.

Short People

I am not a tall man. The top of her Edinburgh-born head is well below my shoulder—somewhere between 4’10” and Munchkinland. She is 99. Most days, her eyes still sparkle with clarity and joy. She lives life gratefully, reveling in the giftedness of each day. She has outlived a husband, siblings, and all but one of her children and has buried both grandchildren and great grandchildren as well. Over sixty-five years ago, the apple of her eye—her first born son—died from something we could easily cure today. She did not abandon God, but did abandon the role of ‘homemaker,’ needing to occupy her hands and mind with other work. Two more children came, and in time, grandchildren and great grandchildren and a 55 year career helping offices run efficiently. If we are blessed to have her with us for her centennial, she will be the first great, great grandmother I’ve ever known. But that might be gilding the lily, because she is simply…..great.

Short Hops

The flight from Houston to Waco was supposed to be 45 minutes, and only that long because the plane was only slightly larger than your average SUV. It was the pilot, the co-pilot and me. I was strategically place in the back of the plane, somehow balancing the weight of BOTH the pilot and co-pilot at the other end. It had been a weekend of farewell—my father’s mother, the one we lovingly (and I mean that) called “Grandmother” had joined the saints after 22 horrid months in post-stroke nursing homes. The doctors had been afraid to tell us the cause of death—previously undiagnosed, and untreated, ovarian cancer.

I remember thinking how unfair her final two years had been as I sorted through class notes and readings I had missed that would fill the short flight and be a bridge back to normal life…even as the plane was buffeted by the spring storm we were too small to get completely above. An hour and 10 minutes later we were actually going to attempt a landing. My stomach and good will had both been undone by turbulence as the plane descended in a virtual garden of lightning. Shortly before the wheels touched down, a strong gust of wind caught the tail of the plane and turned us almost sideways, the hand of God and the brilliant hands of the guy up in the cockpit got things under control and my parents were spared the headline “Returning Funeral Guest Perishes in Plane Crash."

I’ve never disrespected the short hop since.

Short Stories

I wrote my first one in the second grade. I can’t recall a single detail of it, but I remember in art class I built a shoebox living room that served as the setting for it and then read/told the story to pals under the porch at recess using the shoebox as a small stage. The liked it enough to encourage me to do a second one, also lost to a middle-aged memory. By the time a third came along, they were bored with it, and me, and the stories stopped being put on paper for many a year.

Short Lists

My to do list today: do the sermon, do the laundry, clean the kitchen, go to dinner with a friend, see a play I thought I could afford when I ordered the tickets months ago.

Short Stops

I was flying back home from what would ultimately prove to be an unsuccessful church visit/interview in New England. There was a layover in Indianapolis. I had enough time for lunch. In the atrium area where the restaurant was, there were actual birds that had taken up residence inside the airport. I ate my burger and fries as one of them alighted on the back of a chair at the next table over, before hopping onto that table and helping himself to the scraps left by the last diner. I was fascinated watching him, when suddenly a second bird alighted on the same chair back—this time facing me. In an instant, it went from “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom” to “Hitchcock’s The Birds.” My own feathers ruffled, I made some sort of disruptive gesture/noise to scare them away and my arms slipped protectively around my plate…but I did leave them a quarter of the bun when I left—an act of contrition more than an agape meal…