In my little corner of the world, Litchfield Park, Arizona, I receive a free community newspaper twice a week. The paper reports on events in Goodyear, Avondale, Tolleson, Litchfield Park and surrounding environs. 

The most entertaining part of The West Valley View is the “Letters to the Editor” section. The letters are published exactly as submitted, typos, spelling and grammar included. It makes me think some of these folks never finished sixth grade.

In every edition there is a letter which I judge as ignorant or hateful. I ask myself, “On what planet did these Neaderthals come from?”  

Here’s a recent example:

Editor: 

“Throughout my corporate career, I was subjected to countless seminars on Affirmative Action, Diversity, Inclusion, and Tolerance. After awhile I began to see through the smokescreen. These seminars were never about treating everyone equally but rather giving special privileges to groups who are typically non white or non Asian.

“I learned that there is a hierarchy of victim hood or entitlement promoted by a cabal of government progressives and supported by big business, the entertainment industry, and many universities. 

“The hierarchy is as follows in today’s culture:

“Homosexuality trumps Heterosexuality (transgenderism will soon bypass homosexuality) 

“Black skin color trumps white skin color

“Female gender trumps male gender

“Islam trumps Judaism and Christianity. 

“This obsession with abnormal sexuality, skin color, gender, and alternate religions may also be referred to as Identity Politics where what really matters, namely intellectual or attribute diversity, is sadly mostly inconsequential.

“To many modern progressives, the ideal presidential candidate would be a black Lesbian sympathetic to Islam. The most undesirable presidential candidate would be a white straight Christian or Jewish male.

“The Diversity Cult has given our country the inept racist now occupying the White House. Like so many agendas of modern day Obama-like liberals, Identity Politics is destroying our country.

“Affirmative Action is legalized discrimination.

“Diversity without unity is chaos.

“Inclusion without discernment is suicidal.

“Tolerance without convictions is cowardly.”

Name Not Disclosed
Goodyear, Arizona

It’s a short and inexorable step from this kind of poisonous rhetoric to Dylan Roof to the terrorist shootings in Tunisia.

What I have learned in life from my faith:

“Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.” –St Francis of Assissi.

“There are three important lessons in life–be kind, be kind, be kind” –William James

“Love suffereth long.” –I Corinthians 13. 

“You can disagree without being disagreeable.” 

P.S. I know I ought to pray for the letter writer, just not right now!!!

In 1964, when the heart disease that had plagued her for years finally took Gracie's life, George Burns was inconsolable. The doctor asked Burns if he wanted to see Gracie one last time. "Of course I did," Burns says. "I wanted to stand next to her onstage and hear the audience laugh. I wanted to hear that birdlike voice. I wanted her to look up at me with her trusting eyes. I wanted to ask her just once more, 'Gracie, how's your brother?' "

For a time, Burns admits, "things were very, very bad for me. My life was Gracie. But then, about two months later, I started sleeping in her bed—we had twin beds—and things just started turning around for me."

At the age of 62, when most men are thinking of retiring, Burns found a new career. "I was retired when I worked with Gracie," he says. "I did nothing." Or as he puts it in the book: "For 40 years my act consisted of one joke, and then she died." A successful nightclub act that snowballed into TV appearances and movie roles proved that Burns could be funny on his own. 

I like this story of George and Gracie because it exemplifies the process of grief.  An inconsolable loss, followed by awful times.  And then--if we are fortunate-- new opportunities and new joy emerge.

Beginning on September 16th Pinnacle is offering a new program called “Loved and Lost.”  L&L is a grief support group which will meet monthly on the third Tuesdays  of each  month. Someone commented that a joy shared is a joy doubled and a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved.  

My daughter, Amie, my two grandsons, Liam and Jayden, in Utrecht, the Netherlands

A few weeks ago I was in Holland visiting my daughter, her husband, and my two grandsons. Only when you become a grandparent do you understand why your friends, seemingly normal and reasonable people otherwise, go berzerk-o when they become grandparents. 

It is an unspeakable blessing if, in our life cycle, we can rear our own children and live long enough to see a grandchild. Seeing a grandchild opens our eyes once again to the miracle of life. 

As I have become involved in Pinnacle, I have witnessed our ministry to children in its various manifestations. I am reminded that of all the things we do here, this is job one: to love these children, to care for them, to protect them, and in so doing lead them on to Another who is perfect love.

Do you know the writings of the late Erma Bombeck? Her insights on parenting always made me laugh—or cry. Here is what she wrote to her children when they were grown.

“To the first born......
I've always loved you best because you were our first miracle. You were the genesis of a marriage, the fulfillment of young love, the promise of our infinity.

You sustained us through the hamburger years. The first apartment furnished in Early Poverty... our first mode of transportation (1955 feet)... the 7-inch TV set we paid on for 36 months.

You wore new, had unused grandparents and more clothes than a Barbie doll. You were the "original model" for unsure parents trying to work the bugs out. You got the strained lamb, open pins and three-hour naps.

You were the beginning.

To the middle child...
I've always loved you the best because you drew the dumb spot in the family and it made you stronger for it.

You cried less, had more patience, wore faded and never in your life did anything "first," but it only made you more special. You are the one we relaxed with and realized a dog could kiss you and you wouldn't get sick. You could cross the street by yourself long before you were old enough to get married, and the world wouldn't come to an end if you went to bed with dirty feet.

You were the continuance.

To the baby...
I've always loved you the best because endings generally are sad and you are such a joy. You readily accepted milk stained bibs. The lower bunk. The cracked baseball bat. The baby book, barren but for a recipe for graham pie crust that someone jammed between the pages.

You are the one we held onto so tightly. For, you see, you are the link with the past that gives a reason to tomorrow. You darken our hair, quicken our steps, square our shoulders, restore our vision, and give us humor that security and maturity can't give us.

When your hairline takes on the shape of Lake Erie and your children tower over you, you will still be "the baby."

You were the culmination.”