I am all for doing as the psalmist said, “Remember his marvelous works that he hath done.” Coinciding with the usual Church year cycle (beginning with Advent and ending with Last Sunday of the Church Year), here is the first portion of my Annual Recollection. Oh yes, and at times, it is both reflective and a little irreverent.

December
A tsunami half-way around the world instantly kills over 100,000 people, but we are most saddened by one death, the home-going of Faye Jarman, who worked to bring so much joy to others in this life, to her eternal joy in the presence of Jesus. An unlicensed, uninsured, non-owner car driver seeks to improve her skill at parking between obstacles by driving through the church fence. She succeeded, almost. Curtis Rigsby’s fiancé, Naoko, sings in Japanese during the service. And to think that all this time I didn’t even know Curtis could play the piano in Japanese! At the Korean Bible Conference, every time I said, “let the little children come unto me,” they ran and hid (like this was some game or something). When Sonia Hernandez was frightened because her daughter, Kathleen, was limp and unconscious, I learned that, unless you are Jesus, saying “little girl, arise” doesn’t work without oxygen supplied by the paramedics.

January
Hearing of the commotion caused by the year’s inaugural morning sermon, Pastor Rigsby hops a plane from Tucson and arrives just in time to quell the riots by preaching the evening service. Pastor Rigsby knows better than to let me preach. But, apparently the damage was done, because, for the first time in 25 years, the budget required a downward adjustment of 40% across the board. This was not quite the response I had in mind. Hoping to prevent further fallout, I guess, Pastor Rigsby chose (oh, excuse me, “was led of the Lord”) to preach through the book of Revelation. Do you really think I dream this stuff up? I’m not that creative, like Pastor Harry and Marianne Hobby who had a dream to go to Africa and plant “never ending gardens” in Swaziland. Just remember…dreams come true—their’s did (as well as the hundreds they were able to help)! Watch Disneyland steal this slogan from me and use it in their 50th Anniversary campaign. I have dreams like the Hobby’s, too, but they usually end up becoming nightmares.

February
Our hearts were encouraged when Carolyn Stewart returned to sing in the service. Then our hearts were broken repeatedly. Sometime, I don’t remember when, Talbot’s Biblical Island’s study tour was canceled. I don’t remember why, either. By month’s end, God had taken Darlene (Jepsen) Cooper from her family and friends on earth to her family and friends in heaven, and to Himself. And, if that wasn’t enough, Marie (Norris) McIlvain, whose parents were charter members of Bell Gardens Baptist, attended the church and later became a member herself, was also welcomed home to heaven.

March
There has to be some twisted irony that the Sunday School is studying Lamentations in a month of four more deaths. On the way to the cemetery, during Darlene Cooper’s funeral, Steve and Marie Prettyman receive a call that Marie’s brother-in-law, Kelly, just died. Little did we know then that his wouldn’t be the only “under 50″ funeral this year. Margaret Haase, a long time friend and co-worker with Alice Covington, dies. The funeral, officiated by yours truly, started Friday night and concluded Saturday morning. Maybe this is why Allen’s hasn’t called on me in nearly five months!?! After two weeks of intense media attention, congressional debate, and national protest; and receiving no nourishment via a feeding tube, Terry Schivo died on March 31st. I remember the day of her death, because it is the same day that, on the other coast, also in a nursing home and also under (wonderful) hospice care, our Romanian friend, Elizabeth Enciu dies—quietly, without attention, debate, or protest. I wondered if the real suffering began for one while the other’s came to an end? Or, did both enter into the warm embrace of their Saviour and Lord?

There is obviously more to come—next week. Remembering God’s work among us helps us in the present to do as the psalmist encouraged: “O give thanks unto the Lord.”

If you are looking at the time stamp of when this was sent, it is correct. The hour is late Friday (just moments from Saturday).

Tomorrow I am supposed to be in three places within overlapping times. I haven’t yet figured out to accomplish this, but I am willing to learn, if you know how.

The Rigsbys are hosting an evening in their home with the students who will going to Israel in January as guests.

The Spanish congregation is meeting at the church house for a “Thanksgiving” dinner, complete with all those tasty Hispanic foods from the various Latin American countries.

My nephew, Matthew, begins the first round of play-offs in football tomorrow afternoon.

The one place I will not be is in the office, thus I am sending the bulletin now (I hear those sighs of relief!).

If I am afforded the opportunity, I will give thought to a more complete note. However, by Monday, I may realize that next week will offer less time than usual to accomplish the same amount of work. Being thankful takes lots of time, you know.

Backslidden pagan that I am, I will be in the High Desert watching Matthew play football.

O.K.,I have stretched this into Saturday morning. It is time to go home.

Have a great day!

Go Diamondbacks! (a snake for a mascot?)

Our Lord, in His mercy, took Peni Ozmon home Sunday morning, November 13, 2005.

It seems that Peni has battled this cancer for at least ten years. When the cancer raged, Peni only became more determined to fight. When the cancer was in remission, Peni continued to pursue it with a vengeance. Nothing—consultations, chemotherapy, surgeries, radiation, tests, procedures, or experiments—nothing would deter Peni from winning.

Today, Peni won “…surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, having laid aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnared her, she ran with ‘endurance’ the race that was set before her, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of her faith, who for the joy that was set before Him, ‘endured’ the cross, despising the shame, and has set down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

In her last week, Peni was in a coma, the cancer had spread, and when the pain became too severe, morphine was administered. God was gracious in giving Peni one morning where she was alert. At that time Peni said she was tired of fighting and expressed her desire to go be with Jesus. He gave her opportunity to speak via telephone with many in her family before once again slipping into a coma.

The funeral will be Thursday, November 17 in Beattyville, Kentucky. Peni chose to be buried at Youth Haven Bible Camp in Kentucky Mountain Mission’s cemetery, “Field of Butterflies.”

Earlier this year, the founder of “Character Counts,” Michael Josephson, had a long time associate, named Lauren, die from cancer. He penned his thoughts on her death and shared this with his listeners. I think you will notice the similarities between Lauren and Peni, as well as Mr. Josephson and us.

I Can Only Cry

The sun is setting on my friend Lauren.

Though she fought and won battle after battle
The cancer kept coming.

And it has taken an awful toll.

It ravaged her once strong body,
Leaving her thin and pale,
And now her spirit’s light is flickering.

Some people live timidly, speaking tenderly and walking through life on tiptoes.
But she lived boldly and big, stomping heavily and shaking trees.

Many were more delicate and diplomatic, anxious to win the approval of others.
But she spoke plainly and made others seek her approval.

Some write their story in fading ink,
But she etched hers in hearts and minds like a stone mason.

Some pollute the air with complaints and woe,
But she cleared the air with optimism and good cheer.

She deserves a longer life but she is being taken away from husband, family and friends.

And there’s nothing any of us can do about it.
I can sob in sorrow or scream in outrage.
The cancer doesn’t care.

I can protest it’s not right or fair.
I can proclaim it makes no sense.
I can plead that I’m not ready.
The cancer does not care.

I can despair but I can’t delay her departure.
I am shaken by the ugly side of mortality,
Humbled and intimidated by the unyielding march of death.

And I am bone-deep sad.
It’s a terrible thing to lose someone you love.
The pain will not pass quickly.

Eventually, I will be grateful that I had her in my life.
I will look at pictures and relive conversations and I will smile.

But now I can only cry.

Certainly, we cry, too, but not without hope.