See “The Blacksmith who Made the Nails” at your church!

This one-man drama – not the Old Testament prophet Obadiah, but a wholly fictitious character – will take you (via your imagination) to first-century Palestine, where you’ll see and hear and feel what it was like to know Jesus personally, through the eyes of the local blacksmith who made the nails that held Jesus to the cross.

Obadiah was created and is performed by one of my best friends in the world, Dale Crum. He currently has availabilities in his schedule, and if you’d like to consider having Obadiah performed at your church or event, contact Dale at 901-552-8213, or contact him via email, “obadiahdrama” at “gmail.com”.

“My Kind of Hero”

I have a chance to write for Reformation21. Here is my first piece for them.
http://www.reformation21.org/blog/2019/09/my-kind-of-hero.php

Life goes on

Back when I was around 35, we moved into the neighborhood where I now live. It was a fairly large old wood-frame house, built in the 1880s, near a creek, but far enough back from the creek that we wouldn’t be bothered by flooding. It was on a street that had just recently been an old dirt road; it was paved, I think, because over time, it ended up becoming a kind of shortcut between one place and another.

Our house was one of several old family homes that had been built when the area was a coal mining area (the mines are long closed off), and the families had owned the homes for at least a couple of generations, if not more.

Not our immediate neighbors, but in the second house down from us was one of those families that had owned not only a house (vintage 1880) but a very large piece of property that they had put to very good use. Probably an acre or two (along this creek), it was relatively level, and they had grown huge gardens (as I understand it) in the past, but in more recent years, they had just let it be “the field”. It was a nice grassy level area where the kids could and did play football and softball and a lot of other things that kids do.

The family was Italian. The father, who may have been a low-level criminal and owner of the property, had died some time before we moved in. The mother, Mary, was getting on in years, and so she sold the house to her daughter Susie and son-in-law Danny, with the understanding that she would always have a place to live.

Even though theirs was an old house, it was well-cared for. Susie’s older sister, Kathy, recently divorced at the time, had two young children. She spent most of her time at this house. She was probably the primary care giver for the mother, Mary.

Danny and Susie had two young sons of their own, probably around the same ages as my two older boys (my oldest son was aged seven, and in the middle of those two). I had three kids when we moved into the neighborhood. It was the first house we lived in.

There was a long driveway along the upstream the side of the house (the field was downstream). From where we lived, we could easily see a covered pavilion at the end of this driveway, and next to it, immediately behind the house, was a beautiful in-ground pool.

My wife, Beth, being the woman with the anger problem that she was, got into a tussle with Kathy about the kids soon after we moved in. But not long after that, she noticed the pavilion, and the nice homey set-up with the tables and chairs under it, and the fire pit nearby, and of course the opportunities for swimming during the days, and the socializing in the evenings, and they quickly became best friends.

Kathy and Susie had a couple of other sisters, including Donna, who turned out to be the oldest, and Bev, who lived in a small brick house just up the hill behind the pool. They had a brother, Dickie, too, who had long had kidney problems (from an abusive situation from the father). He had had a kidney transplant at one point. And my wife, in fact, was soon adopted as one of the sisters.

The pavilion and the pool were a way of life. There was always good food, and lots of beer. Kathy took care of Mary. Susie and Donna worked just up the hill at the Bettis plant (in low-level administrative positions); Danny and Dickie worked construction job for the same company, and we all got together frequently in the evenings.

In 1995, Beth and Bev were both pregnant … Beth with our 4th son, John, and Bev with her first son, Joe. In fact, Beth was pregnant when we moved there. These were the best years of Beth’s life. Our kids were small, they played nicely together, and I worked at home and made a good income. When we first moved there, I had a pretty good job as an advertising manager for a fairly large national company; later I quit that job and started a small business as sort of a one-man ad agency.

We all had big yards where the kids could run and play and go swimming during the summer vacations. I owned a Mac computer, and video games were just then starting to come to personal computers. (I played a little “indy” game called Escape Velocity; later I played Dust and Titanic, for hours on end).

Things have moved on a bit. We had to move out of the upstream house in 1997, but we were able to move into a small brick house, downstream (where I still live. We’ve had three floods here over the years). But things never were the same as they were from that 1995-1997 period.

There was 9/11/2001, which “changed everything”. Mary died in 2003, when my wife was in the Army in Iraq. Danny had a drinking problem, not really evident during our socializing years, but over time it came to the surface. He and Susie had some financial troubles as a result, and they divorced. Susie declared bankruptcy and moved out. Danny never was able to recover from his drinking problem, and the related ills it caused in his life, and he shot himself in the heart about a year ago, maybe two. Dickie and his wife have both passed away in the meantime.

Last night, I was at a funeral home, and I saw all the girls for the first time in a while. Donna had passed away, having fallen and broken her femur a year earlier. She was 66. Her husband Tom has been suffering for years from a serious dementia. Recently, he didn’t even know who Donna was. (He is having some good care). Donna was stubborn, they say. She “just gave up”; she never walked after breaking her leg, and she passed away quietly at the hospital, after having some seizures.

My wife, as many may know, suffered leukemia in 2011; she had a bone marrow transplant in December of that year, which healed her from the leukemia, but she died in 2015. All the kids are grown and, except for my youngest, who is 14 (and named after Danny – we call her Dani), are in their 20s. Some married, some didn’t.

Back in the day, Donna had been the wealthy sister – she had no kids, and she and her husband Tom both worked. Kathy, the divorcee, was destitute. Last night, it was evident that Donna’s life was the tragic one. Kathy met a guy, Bill, and the two of them have been traveling and on cruises in recent years.

Interestingly, Hawk just posted a piece on Schreiner’s take on Ecclesiastes.

The Preacher advises, "There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God, for apart from him who can eat or who can have enjoyment?" (2:24–25). The Preacher is not counseling readers here to live an unrestrained, hedonistic life; rather, he is saying that human beings must live one day at a time and enjoy each day for the pleasures it brings. This is not an isolated theme, for the Preacher revisits it in 3:11–13 "He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man."

God has so designed life that human beings see the glory and beauty of God in the world he created. But life in the world also eludes human comprehension, such that there is no evident pattern or plan in history. Vanity and futility and absurdity characterize human life. Instead of trying to figure out how everything fits together, human beings should take pleasure in God's gifts. There is a humility in accepting each day from God's hand and thanking him for the joys that he grants.

Life goes on. It surely does.

Escaping from the Hornets’ Nest

I found this letter (pictured) while looking through some old papers, and I thought it was too rich not to share it.

The letter is a response to me by Donald Wuerl, who now is the disgraced Cardinal Archbishop of Washington DC, having forgotten that he knew about Cardinal McCarrick’s homosexual abuse of minors and Roman Catholic seminarians, but who then (1984) was the rector of St. Paul’s Seminary in Pittsburgh.

I had apparently written to him requesting information about admission to the Seminary, and in this letter, he referred me to the “Vocations Director” for the Diocese of Pittsburgh. By the end of that year, I had applied for and was accepted to this seminary program, and I remember having attended a small lunch at the Seminary, for incoming students, that was hosted by then Father Wuerl. That’s where I met him.

Most people know me as someone who knows Roman Catholicism in a very thorough way. My Protestant friends look to me for advice when they interact with Roman Catholicism in one way or another. Some Roman Catholics know me as an apostate, and some (Dave Armstrong Google Alert) consider me to be a bitter anti-Catholic.

But this letter reveals my bona-fide credentials as a genuine Roman Catholic, back in the day.

To make a long story short ...

Reverend John William Wellinger

My wife and I were married in a civil ceremony on June 1, 1987. But being good Catholics at the time, we wanted to “get married in the Church”.

So after a couple of years living in Memphis, with our small son Jeremy, Beth and I traveled back to Pittsburgh, and we re-joined my home parish, and sought to have our wedding vows in a church ceremony. We thought it would be fitting to have a unified anniversary on June 1.

The Reverend John William Wellinger was the pastor of the church at the time. We attended several private sessions with Fr Wellinger at the rectory. We thought this was very good of him, to invite us there. (In my time at the church prior, the long-term pastor there rarely let anyone into the rectory).

In any event, Fr. Wellinger showed a great deal of playful interest with our three year old son, even pretending to be a puppy dog, and licking his face.

Fr. Wellinger had a ceremony for Beth and me, and for members of our immediate family, on June 1, 1991.

Apparently, later that month, Fr Wellinger resigned for “reasons of health”, although he served in several other parishes over the next several years.

Here is Fr Wellinger’s summary paragraph from the PA Attorney General’s Grand Jury Investigation Report:

On or about February 19, 1986, Father John Wellinger was sent to the St. Luke's Institute for a number of issues, including drug and alcohol abuse. Diocesan records received pursuant to a Grand Jury subpoena revealed that on the evening of October 8, 1987, Wellinger provided alcohol and drugs to an 18-year-old parishioner of the Holy Spirit church. The parishioner had a "bad reaction" to the drugs and had to be taken to Shadyside Hospital for treatment. Within days, Wellinger was confronted by the victim's parents. Efforts were made by the church to promote a reconciliation between Wellinger, the victim and the victim's parents.

On July 12, 1988, a letter was sent to Bishop Wuerl from "Concerned Parishioners" of Holy Spirit. This letter outlined concerns about drug use and excessive drinking to the point of intoxication by Wellinger. The parishioners also expressed concern about Wellinger exposing the young people of the church to illegal drugs.

On June 22, 1989, Father Theodore Rutkowski of the Office of Clergy and Pastoral Life received a letter from a parishioner at Holy Spirit. Bishop Wuerl was carbon copied in the correspondence. In this letter, the parishioner listed a number of problems that the parish was having with Wellinger. In part, the letter read "Just to refresh your memory and bring you up to date on John's ministry here at Holy Spirit here are some of the significant problems . . ." The list included: "Giving drugs and alcohol to teens;" "Teens in the parish have been warned by their parents about drugs from Father;" and "Young men staying at the parish house."

On June 3, 1991, Wellinger was drinking alcoholic beverages with a 24-year-old man in the rectory. Wellinger unbuttoned the man's pants and began to perform oral sex on him without consent. A few days later, the victim reported the incident to the Diocese. Wellinger was subsequently questioned by Diocesan officials, at which time he admitted to the unsolicited sexual activity with the victim. Wellinger was then sent to St. Michael's Community in St. Louis, Missouri for an evaluation. Wellinger' s absence from the parish was explained as a request for resignation for "reasons of health."

On January 2, 1992, a meeting took place between Wuerl and Wellinger. The Bishop agreed that Wellinger could return to priestly ministry and was appointed as Parochial Vicar (Pro Tem) at St. George in Allentown [PA, in another diocese across the state]. On July 30, 1994, Wellinger was stopped by officers of the Borough of Crafton Police Department for driving under the influence of alcohol. Father David Zubik [the current Bishop of Pittsburgh], Director of Clergy Personnel, subsequently notified Wellinger that he had been placed on a leave of absence until he returned from an evaluation at St. Luke's Institute. Wellinger was at St. Luke's from September 29, 1994 to March 27, 1995. Because he did not complete the required treatment, his leaving was unauthorized by the Diocese. On May 18, 1995, Wuerl granted Wellinger a leave of absence from June 1, 1995 to December 1, 1995 for "personal reasons."

On September 22, 1995, Diocesan officials met with the parents of a 17 -year -old boy. The parents said that a week earlier, their son told them he had been sexually molested by Wellinger. This abuse reportedly occurred in June 1991, when he the victim was 13 years old. The victim stated he and some of his friends were watching videos with Wellinger late into the night. They all fell asleep on the floor. The victim awakened to find that Wellinger had put his hands down the victim's pants and was fondling his penis. More than two weeks later, on October 10, 1995, Diocesan officials met with Wellinger to discuss the allegations. Wellinger admitted to spending a lot of time with the victim. Wellinger denied consciously touching the victim's genitals. Wellinger explained that he did fall asleep on the floor with the victim. He said it was "pretty tight quarters" so he may have "unknowingly" touched the victim's genitals. The Diocese did not report the matter to law enforcement for years. Instead, arrrangments were made to provide counseling for the victim. The victim later notified Diocesan officials that during counseling, he was informed that the sexual abuse that occurred was his own fault.

By the year 2004, the victim's allegations against Wellinger became part of a lawsuit that accused the Diocese of conspiracy to cover up the sexual abuse of minors. By March 21, 2005, the victim had disclosed Wellinger had molested him on several occasions. He stated these incidents occurred both in the rectory where Wellinger lived and at the victim's home. In 2007, Bishop Paul Bradley settled the lawsuit, which included accusations from 32 individuals against 17 priests, for $1.25 million.

On November 9, 2012, a woman contacted the Diocese to report that her brother had just died in August of that year. She indicated that about a month prior to his death, he told her he had been molested by Wellinger, while Wellinger was assigned to St. James. The woman explained that her brother was an altar boy when the abuse occurred and he was about 11 or 12 years of age at that time. She estimated the assault(s) took place in 1981 to 1982. She added that Wellinger used illegal drugs and he provided drugs to some of the children.

[Italics in the original text; I’ve added bold face for emphasis.]

One of the young men in this account later committed suicide.

A Credible “Proposition”

In October 1984, I was accepted into a program to study for the priesthood by the Catholic Diocese of Pittsburgh. As a recent college graduate, who hadn’t majored in philosophy, I would be required to complete a year-long program of philosophy, prior to entering the theological seminary. I was 24 years old at the time.

I thought I was to begin in January, but the Diocese wanted me to take the full year in residence with other students (probably simply to keep me on a September-May schedule), which would have begun in September 1985. So, since I had nearly a year to wait (and think), I went back to Memphis to spend yet another year “on the road” with my good friend, Jeff Steinberg.

While I was in Memphis, I became a (loose) part of the Roman Catholic community there. When I was not traveling with Jeff’s ministry, I attended Mass daily at the small local Catholic Church near where I lived. As well, I befriended a priest at one of the larger churches, and in fact, I took a missionary trip (as a “seminarista”) to spend some time with a missionary church in Zacatecas, Mexico.

But at the small local church I attended daily, there was another, older Roman Catholic seminarian (perhaps in his 30’s). in fact, I think he had been ordained a Deacon, and was in preparation for ordination to the Priesthood. I’ll call him “Fr. Bernie”. He had in fact graduated from St. Mary’s Seminary in Baltimore. I didn’t know it at the time, but St. Mary’s had a reputation, being known as “the Pink Palace”.

In 2002, a genuinely devout Roman Catholic writer, Michael Rose, wrote a work entitled “Goodbye, Good Men”. The book discussed a broad range of “liberal” issues within the network of Roman Catholic seminaries, including a “gay subculture”.

The book was trashed by conservative Roman Catholic writers. But one paragraph rings true to me:

“a large number of students had been convinced by some liberal teacher that sexual promiscuity with the same sex was not a violation of celibacy”(pg. 59)

This is precisely the appeal with which “Fr Bernie” approached me. I was too unsophisticated to know what this was about at the time, but in retrospect, this did seem to me as if he had been trying to proposition me. I tended to avoid him after this.

Interestingly, “Fr Bernie” is still a priest in Memphis. I recently saw videos of several of his recorded Masses on YouTube.

Milestones: Sowing and Reaping

A life-long pastor friend of mine once told me, “John, it’s good that you have a secular career to support your theology work. There’s no money in theology”.

To be sure, when the secular work becomes interrupted, the theology gets interrupted as well.

On Tuesday (March 13), quite by chance, I achieved two major milestones in my life. Of course, I don’t believe in “chance”, but two things came together nicely.

Early in the morning, I passed a certification test that will enable me to be employable for at least several years to come – this is good because I’m 58 now, and my career focus in the technology world has shifted from “I want to be a rising star” to “hold on and be useful for a little while longer”.

And later in the day, I also received a copy of my first article to be published in a theological journal. (I’m hoping that this part of my work-life expands, even as the first part recedes).

A Tale of Two Trees

Back in 2008, I bought a couple of tree saplings, one for Beth and one for me. She liked weeping willows, and I like pin oaks. I bought them for us as a couple, because we had been having some problems, and I wanted to affirm for her my love and my long term commitment.

I planted them where she wanted them, and it was a very fine thing to watch them grow together.

The weeping willow tree grew tall very fast, but it died a couple of years ago. After she died, in fact (though it seemed sick prior to that). But I left it there, hoping that each of the next two years, it would get some buds.

Just the other day, after the strong storms that came through, my youngest daughter looked out the window and said, “Dad, there’s a branch in the yard”.

In fact, it was the willow tree that had been knocked over in the storms. Beth’s tree.

I was reminded of a concept in Sheldon Vanauken’s “A Severe Mercy” – another story by a husband whose wife had died. There was a period of grieving, and then there was a period that he called “the second death”, when he was aware that no longer grieved.

March 9 would be the 31st anniversary of when Beth and I met. I have been dating for a while, off and on, and by and large I’m looking forward, not backward. I’m sad when I think about what has happened. I know that she is safely with the Lord.

But life goes on, with all of its pressures and promises.

The pin oak, my tree, is very strong and healthy. I’ve cut a few odd branches off of it, to help it fit in the yard a bit better. To make it easier to mow the lawn. But the tree seems to be growing nicely, and healthier than ever.

Pastor James Kambugu of Uganda

Over the last several months, I’ve had the privilege to get to know and to correspond with Pastor James Kambugu, of Uganda. He is independent, so far as I know, and not affiliated with any larger ministries. He is a former Muslim, and he has ministered to Muslims, as you can see in some of the ministry photos at his website, and others that he has sent to me privately.

Here is his home page and here is his Statement of Beliefs. More information is available at his Facebook site as well.

He is in the Wakiso district of Uganda, which is right outside the capital city of Kampala. Uganda is a country where there Christians are not heavily persecuted, but the area is troubled nevertheless.

I’ve posted some photos here of the church building that he is trying to erect; also, one of the challenges is just simply public facilities for use at the church. There is a photo here of the effort to build a simple “pit latrine” as he calls it.

Pastor James cares for and provides educational facilities for a large number of children in the area, some of whom are orphans; as well, he recently was called upon and made a special trip to rescue a young boy named Swaib, who had been badly mistreated by his step mother, and who (at age 6?) weighed about 5 kg when he was found. He could have come right out of a World Vision ad.

I’ve confided in Pastor James about some personal needs, and he and his church have prayed for my family on a regular basis. I’m reaching out to Triablogue readers – if anyone is in a position to help him, he is accepting donations through a GoFundMe site that has been set up by Julia Bradley of Toronto.

If anyone has any suggestions about whom or how Pastor James can become affiliated with a legitimate US-based missionary organization, or if you have any questions, please let me know.

Pastor James Kambugu is a Christian brother who lives in a very difficult part of the world; he is in a position to make a difference, and he is already doing so to a small extent. Please help if you can.

Please Help Andrew Clover

Andrew Clover is a good and dear friend of mine who is trying to raise money to pay for a seminary education. He has been (in the past) a frequent commenter on Triablogue, and he was one of the writers (the first, in fact) who wrote with me at my Reformation500 blog.

He has set up a GoFundMe page to raise money for this, and if you're inclined to do so, please help him out.

The Fall of the Roman Catholic Church

Important note: This has already happened.

For all of you naysayers out there who are prone to say “the gates of hell shall not prevail”, keep in mind here that I’m not making a prediction. I’m reporting on what has already happened. This is going to be largely a personal note, and more anecdotal than I’d like it to be. But I want to explain some of the excitement that I have right now, and some of the hope that I have for the future.

John Bugay, Cradle Catholic

I’ve been dealing with Roman Catholicism for a long time. I was born into a Catholic family. I grew up Roman Catholic. It meant something to be “a good Catholic”.

On my mother’s side of the family, my great grandparents were immigrants from Slovakia. My great grandfather died when I was very young – I remember being at his deathbed at some point. My great grandmother then went to live with my Uncle Eddie, who was the sixth child in that family of six (and the youngest brother to my grandmother). They had a nice, 1950’s style brick home in one of the newer suburban areas around Pittsburgh.

My uncle just had a young family at the time. He may or may not have had one small child at the time, my cousin Michael who, oddly, was my mother’s cousin. Because of their relative age, we visited them a lot.

It was the kind of big Catholic family that was prominent back then. My great grandmother didn’t know much English, even in the early 1960’s, but the phrase I heard all the time was, “you good boy Johnny”. She said that to me all the time, and rarely did she say anything else. And I’d smile and say “thank you”. We were in church very frequently, as part of a large, extended family – weddings, baptisms, funerals. And there was much family time and fellowship. It worked that way on my mother’s side of the family, where my mother was from one of the older siblings, and also on my father’s side of the family, where he was one of the younger siblings. I had some same-aged cousins, but most of my cousins were a lot older, with families of their own.

That was the form of pre-Vatican II form of “Roman Catholicism” that I knew in the early and middle 1960’s. You didn’t get “catechized” back then. You lived it. You lived your life, and life revolved around “the Church”.

Continuing Questions about Iraq War ‘Burn Pits’

For anyone who is interested, I was featured in a local news story, which was very well done, concerning the possibility that my wife's leukemia has a link to the military's practice of burning trash and human waste with diesel fuel:

KDKA Investigates: New Major Health Crisis Facing America's Military, Some Say: Some are calling it this generation's 'Agent Orange' -- a new, major health crisis facing America's military.

Kaddish for those who mourn

Christians are admonished to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15, ESV). The NIV is even more direct: “mourn with those who mourn”. Having lost a spouse, I’ve found that I have a close and automatic connection to others who have lost spouses, especially those who were married for a long time.

Today, a Jewish friend of mine is observing anniversary the death of her husband of 28 years. In Jewish tradition, a special prayer is said on this day, called a Kaddish (it can be for the anniversary of anyone’s death). I found the prayer to be especially poignant and God-honoring. Here is an English version and a link to the prayer in Hebrew:

Exalted and hallowed be God's great name
in the world which God created, according to plan.
May God's majesty be revealed in the days of our lifetime
and the life of all Israel -- speedily, imminently, to which we say Amen.

Blessed be God's great name to all eternity.

Blessed, praised, honored, exalted, extolled, glorified, adored, and lauded
be the name of the Holy Blessed One, beyond all earthly words and songs of blessing,
praise, and comfort. To which we say Amen.

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us and all Israel,
to which we say Amen.

May the One who creates harmony on high, bring peace to us and to all Israel.
To which we say Amen.

This sounds a lot like Paul’s exclamation in Romans 11:33: “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!”

I’m writing my wife’s life story in 2016

Hi all – this is a personal note. I know, it’s New Year’s Eve – everybody’s probably making plans for 2016. I’ve made my own plans (fully aware of Proverbs 16:9). I’ve set up a new blog (http://bethanybugay.com/) that’s going to be devoted to a project that will involve writing first of all my wife’s life story, and also, our life together.

Perhaps the first thing you’ll notice is that the names don’t match up (Bethany Bugay vs DelNita Airel). Well, we struggled with that the whole time, and I think I explain it (and thanks to Alan Kurshner for help with the Hebrew). Another thing you’ll notice is that there’s some cussing involved. Well, my wife was a Soldier. The first word I ever heard come out of her mouth was “Goddammit!” – I intend to be as honest as I can about the whole thing.

Steve said something a while ago about a Christian marriage being counter-cultural in our day. At one point in her life, Beth saw “a Christian marriage” as almost a kind of salvation from the kind of hell that her life had become, almost from the outset. I think it’s a story that needs to be told today.

Here is the first chapter.

Here is the Facebook page I’ve set up: https://www.facebook.com/BethanyBugay/.

If anyone’s interested, please help me out by visiting the Facebook page – liking it, sharing it, talking it up. I hope to publish on a semi-regular schedule there, so please check back and like, share, and talk up those future chapters as well.

I know some of y’all probably miss me grousing about Roman Catholicism. I’ve got plenty of that left in me, I assure you. But this is, in my view, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity (that I have) to tell an extraordinarily moving story of Christ’s redemption (Spoiler alert for those who like to read ahead: my wife, a life-long though nominal Roman Catholic, made a credible profession of faith before she died).

I couldn’t write it any earlier than this because it was just too painful. But now, with some distance, the grief has subsided a bit, but the project is still fresh in my mind, and I have a sense that if I don’t do it now, I won’t get back to it later.

So here it is, warts and all. My cousin (who is 70) read the first chapter, and she said “I read your first draft with tears falling down”. There is a saying by the poet Robert Frost – “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader”. Well, there have been plenty of tears on this end, and as I work through this, I expect that there will be many more.

A story of grief: six months and counting

Today is the six-month anniversary of the day my wife died. You can’t help but reflect back on something like that. Grief is an ongoing thing, and it comes back to bite at you at the strangest of moments.

About a month ago, my church interviewed me for the church newsletter. That went like this:

Jeff Steinberg, “Tiny Giant”: Celebrating 43 Years

My friend Jeff Steinberg celebrated his 43rd anniversary in ministry yesterday. I worked for Jeff from 1981-1986, as his sound man, driver, and personal assistant. Jeff posted this video from Jerry Falwell's "Old Time Gospel Hour", where he first sang for a national audience. He was 21 years old at the time:



He is still doing his thing; you can have Jeff sing at your church for a love offering and expenses. Visit http://www.tinygiant.com, or call him at 901-754-5333. Tell him John Bugay sent you.

First day of school

As I helped my daughter get on the bus for the first day of school today, it occurred to me that her mom had died at the beginning of this summer vacation, on the last day of school (June 5) from the last school year.

In my wife’s case, she certainly did not know the day and the hour. What a blessing that she knew her Lord when he came for her.

What a summer of transitions it has been.

“I’m not a lady, I’m a soldier,” she said.

Here is another article -- this one I wrote just as Beth was getting back into the country in 2003:

http://old.post-gazette.com/pg/03278/228302.stm

Letters from Iraq

Many of you may know, Beth was in the army, and she served in Iraq from April-October 2003. In June of 2003, I packaged up the letters she sent me, with some editing, and I sent them to several publications. World Net Daily picked them up and published them. They are still online:

http://www.wnd.com/2003/06/19455/

Good Grief ...

I've had some very bad moments these last few days, but as I've been going through Beth's things, I've been finding some real treasures. She was a treasure, but with some flaws. As are we all. But there were ways in which she was unique, and she touched a wide range of people very deeply. Especially me.

This may sound a bit crazy, but because of what I went through when she left for Iraq, and then when she went through leukemia, I feel as if I may have been inoculated against the very hard moments of grief that I might have otherwise suffered. I have had some hard moments, and maybe I am speaking too soon here. Also, I certainly miss her, and one of the things I miss the most is sharing things with her the things that she would have enjoyed hearing.

For example, the kids and I are at the wave pool today. She loved days like this. And she's not here to share it with. I have asked the Lord to convey to her the peace and happiness that the kids and I are feeling. It may not last. But I'm sure he's got this all worked out. The resurrection to come will fix a lot of things.