A healing fire December 31, 2017

Published by the Times-Georgian–December 31, 2017

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

 

NOTE: The following column was originally published on February 21, 2016

 

The fire crackled and snapped while I sipped my morning coffee.

My dog sat close to my feet as the sun rose above the pines. Outside I heard the birds chirping in the breezy wind as I watched three cats chew on a squirrel’s tail. For a moment I wondered, where is the rest of the squirrel? The little varmint probably didn’t have a good night.

All was quiet in the house.

“Let us be silent, that we may hear–the whispers of God,” wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson.

For a moment, the noise of a busy world could wait as I took another sip of coffee. The fire needed my attention. A poke here and a poke there and eventually another piece of wood transformed the room into a winter haven while my family slept.

When Don McLean sang “Bye bye Miss American Pie,” he declared “fire is the Devil’s only friend.” On this morning, however, I welcomed the flames. And I saw no signs of the Devil.

It’s hard to quiet the mind, especially in this technological world where I often feel the need to check my email or text messages every 5 minutes. Addiction is cruel. My iPhone is like crack (or so I’m told). On second thought, it’ s more like sitting at a blackjack table in Vegas, only it’s not as much fun.

I long to return to the days when technology was simpler and life wasn’t so fast paced. Perhaps it’s time to pick up a book again, a real one with real paper and a spine. I think my Kindle will understand.

Within a few minutes, I began to realize my children would awaken. I poked at the fire. It started to rapidly burn and soon another piece of wood was needed.

Once again, it’s hard to quiet the mind.

“There is calmness lived in a life of gratitude, a quiet joy” said Ralph H. Blum. “Sometimes you just need a break in a beautiful place. Alone to figure everything out.”

After a while, I began to count a handful of life’s blessings. The older I grow, the less I know. It’s the mystery of living the questions.

Rarely do I close my eyes and ask God for favors anymore. I listen instead.

Some days I hear voices in my head. I feel ghosts on my shoulders. They’re often cluttered and they disappear as quickly as they arrive, but every now and then a quiet whisper stops me in my tracks. It pushes me forward and not back.

There’s a peace within sitting alone on a Sunday morning while watching the flames flicker and feeling a dog cuddle at my feet.

Within a few minutes, the sounds of little footsteps walking down the stairs will echo through the house. Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

One day they’ll leave this nest and silence will permeate our home. Until then, I welcome the noise, the laughter, the chaos and all the highs and lows of rearing a household full of kids.

No matter what happens today or tomorrow, I realize life is going to be OK.

God told me so as he warmed my soul through a healing fire.

Behind the music December 31, 2017

Published by the Times-Georgian–December 24, 2017

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

 

It all started 199 years ago.

Silent Night is one of the most famous songs ever written. In fact, it’s officially considered a national treasure in Austria. But the origins of Silent Night are surprisingly humble.

Silent night, holy night,

All is calm, all is bright

It was on a Christmas Eve night in 1818 that a young priest name Josef Mohr ventured out into the cold. As the legend goes, Mohr climbed a hill overlooking the little town of Oberndorf in western Austria. While gazing down upon the houses, illuminated by flickering candlelight behind panes of frosted glass, Mohr recalled the words to a poem he first began writing several years before.

Round yon virgin, mother and child

Holy infant, so tender and mild

Midnight was only a few hours away.

In another part of Oberndorf, Franz Gruber, the local church organist, had a problem. As the legend goes, his organ had been damaged by mice. Since it was his job to provide music for the church’s Midnight Mass, the night probably didn’t seem calm and bright to him.

Then came a knock on his door.

It was the priest, Josef Mohr. He showed Gruber the words he penned, then asked if Gruber could compose a simple melody to go with it. A melody, Mohr requested, that he could play on his favorite instrument, the guitar.

Gruber sat down at his desk, took out his quill and manuscript paper, and composed a tune world-renowned for its beauty and simplicity.

Sleep in heavenly peace,

Sleep in heavenly peace.

Gruber and Mohr performed the song together that night at the Midnight Mass.

Silent night, holy night

Shepherds quake at the sight

A few weeks later, a repairman came to fix Gruber’s organ. After he finished, Gruber sat at the bench and played the song he had composed. Touched, the repairman asked if he could take a copy with him. From there, it was picked up by traveling choirs who spread it into every German city. Eventually, the song made it all the way to the throne of the Prussian king, Wilhelm IV, who declared it his favorite carol.

Glories stream from heaven afar,

Heavenly hosts sing Hallelujah!

Gruber continued working as an organist, composing several arrangements of Silent Night for organ and orchestra. He also wrote carols, many of which are still sung in Austria today. Josef Mohr, meanwhile, moved from town to town, frequently donating his salary to charity. Before he died, he even set up a fund enabling poor children to attend school.

Christ, the Savior, is born,

Christ, the Savior, in born!

I’ve always loved Silent Night, but I think I love it even more after learning the song’s history. While it’s impossible to know exactly what happened—some historians cast doubt on the idea that Gruber’s organ was damaged by mice. One thing is clear—Silent Night is a simple song, with a simple melody, composed under humble circumstances for the citizens of a small town to enjoy.

Given the song’s subject, this seems fitting.

I also love what it teaches about Christmas. When you get down to it, Christmas isn’t about all the bright lights and decorations. It’s not about presents or grand celebrations. It’s about something simpler, something quieter.

It’s about the warm feeling you get when surrounded by family and friends, contemplating the silent night that took place so long ago.

Silent night, holy night

Son of God, love’s pure light

Radiant beams from thy holy face

With the dawn of redeeming grace,

Jesus, Lord, at thy birth,

Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.

Tonight, I invite you to enjoy this song by candlelight. And if you’re inclined to stay up late, my parish, St. Margaret’s Episcopal Church, will welcome our new rector Jeff Jackson, his wife Molly and their four children as the newest members of our community. Midnight Mass begins at 11 p.m. and concludes with my favorite Christmas carol at midnight with, yes, Silent Night.

Until next week, I wish you and yours a Merry Christmas—and a peaceful, silent night of your own to enjoy.

 

Roughing it December 31, 2017

Published by the Times-Georgian–December 17, 2017

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

 

Abe Lincoln is not proud.

I was standing outside and watched a broken tree limb spark and flame on the power line in my front yard. While it fell to the ground, I said to myself—“Uh oh, this is not going to be good.”

For the next few minutes, one-by-one I heard the sounds of cracking pine tree limbs fall to the ground. Eventually, one hit a line and I heard the transformer blow.

The lights would not come back on for the next 48 hours.

When darkness filled the room, moans and groans permeated my household as the stove, the oven, the washer and dryer, dishwasher, hot water heater, refrigerator and freezer, heating system, phone chargers, Christmas tree lights, the internet and a million other things were lost.

We were not alone.

Thousands of households across west Georgia lost power in the largest local outage since Hurricane Opal in 1995. Linemen from Carroll EMC and Georgia Power once again were summoned as minute men to climb the poles and bring back the electricity.

Last weekend was the longest many people in our community have been without power in several years. I now have a greater sense of empathy for the millions who are struck with natural disasters and sometimes go months before any return to normalcy.

“This may be fun,” I said to my wife after the power went out.

“Really,” she replied. “You do realize we no longer have heat.”

“Oh yeah,” I answered. “Uh oh.”

Thankfully, we have gas logs in one fireplace and a wood burning fireplace in another. Between the two heat sources, the temperature was tolerable.

We moved our children’s mattresses in front of the fire and I added wood every couple of hours or so throughout the evening. Children call that “adventure sleeping.” I call it—“Mom and Dad are tired the next day.”

I owe those folks and ancestors who lived their entire lives without electricity and running water an apology. We could have easily have sacrificed and lived a rustic lifestyle for two days. Instead, when we needed coffee—we drove to Starbucks. When we were hungry, we ordered a Domino’s pizza.

In other words, life wasn’t as comfortable as it normally is—but it wasn’t really uncomfortable either.

Instead, the beautiful snowfall brought out the best in our neighborhood. Children took out their sleds and blasted down a nearby hill to resemble a scene out of a Norman Rockwell painting. My wife and children played Monopoly at the kitchen table and even my 7-year old son put together a puzzle.

It’s times like snow storms and the loss of electricity that will never be forgotten. I only hope we don’t have a future ice storm, lose power and are incapable of driving on the roads.

It’s a long walk to Starbucks.

 

 

 

 

Achy breaky tooth December 31, 2017

Published by the Times-Georgian–December 3, 2017

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

 

Really, I’d rather have a root canal.

And last week I really did. A cliché became my path to relief from an aching tooth that made my Thanksgiving break less of a vacation and turned me into a whining grown-up who resembled a 2-year old to my wife and children.

If my tooth could have talked, it probably would have uttered the same thing Mr. T’s character Clubber Lang said when he talked to a reporter about his upcoming boxing match against Rocky Balboa in the movie “Rocky III.”

“What’s your prediction for the fight?” the interviewer asked.

“My prediction?” responded Clubber Lang. “PAIN!”

I don’t like pain. And I don’t like mean people, mean dogs, smells from a nail salon, Auburn fans, TV preachers, cheap coffee, potholes and rutabagas. But I can tolerate all of the above—well, everything except TV preachers and rutabagas.

Mae West said it best when she eloquently stated, “Love conquers all things except poverty and a tooth ache.”

Thankfully, the Monday after Turkey Day provided relief when an endodontist in Anniston fit me into his schedule. As I sat in the dental chair, I noticed he graduated from Notre Dame. People often make fun of my alma mater the University of Georgia, but we Bulldogs are highly educated whenever we’re around folks with needles, drills, hatchets, hoes and chisels.

I didn’t mention football (final score from 2017: UGA 20 Fighting Irish 19). Based on my outcome from this outstanding dental specialist, Touchdown Jesus would have been proud—and so would have Knute Rockne, Lou Holtz and Rudy.

On a serious note, my four-day tooth ache was fixed in less than two hours by modern medicine and maybe a touch of the Irish. I’m one of the lucky ones. Every day millions of people wake up in pain. We never know the hand we’ll be dealt. And once again, we can learn a lot from Rocky Balboa when the going gets tough.

“Let me tell you something you already know,” said Balboa. “The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place and I don’t care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it.

“You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life,” Balboa continued. “But it ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!”

My tooth pain has been defeated and so has the tooth. It’s now “deader than a door nail.” And it took this Bulldog to give way to the skills of the Fighting Irish.

Yes, Rocky—that’s how winning is done!

All I want December 31, 2017

Published by the Times-Georgian–November 26, 2017

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

 

Thanksgiving’s over.

So fah lah-lah-lah, lah-lah-lah-lah—Christmas time’s a-comin’.

Now that Black Friday is behind us and Cyber Monday begins in less than 24 hours, Christmas shopping will consume so many lives as the mall parking lots fill up, and store cash registers collect the cash.

Wonder what Jesus would think about an afternoon walking the aisles at Walmart?

Every year I overhear someone say, “I don’t know what to get him?” Or, “I don’t know if she would like it?”

As for 2017, there’s no need to worry. The following are my Top 10 favorite gift ideas guaranteed to bring joy to the world:

Number 10—Wine. It’s Christmas. So why not buy Jesus’s favorite drink.

Number 9—Bicycle. The GreenBelt is now a complete circle and if you haven’t ridden the entire loop pedaling on two wheels, you’re missing one of the greatest adventures within our city limits.

Number 8—Safe Deposit Box at a local bank. Why not have all of your old photos (arguably one of your most valuable assets) digitally scanned, copied and stored somewhere safe in case your house ever burns down?

Number 7—Big Green Egg. It’s expensive, but it’s a lifetime grill you’ll never have to replace. I’m getting hungry just writing about it.

Number 6—Write a letter to an old friend or family member. Although we all welcome a new pair of socks, it’s kind words expressed in writing that will forever be cherished.

Number 5—Socks (navy and black).

Number 4—Last Will and Testament. I know it sounds morbid, but according to a 2016 Gallop Poll only 44 percent of Americans have left instructions for after they’re gone. I hate to tell the other 56 percent something the others know, but let me be direct. Sorry folks, we’re all gonna die, so get this done.

Number 3—Socks (tan and white).

Number 2—My book “Easy to Love: Southern Stories from the Heart” on sale at Underground Books, Turner Pharmacy and sometimes a few copies in the backseat of my car. It’s a cheap gift for all of your family members, co-workers and friends. I need to sell them so I can afford lunch at Big Chic for 2018.

Number 1—Give to those less fortunate than you. It’s Christmas folks. I think Jesus would approve.

Finally, give a bonus gift to yourself. Eat whatever you want.

New Year’s and its resolutions are still 35 days away.