Author: William Douthwaite

Posted in Life

Look at all those cardboard boxes

Posted on by William Douthwaite

On my early morning walks I’ve been impressed with the amount of cardboard in recycling bins in my neighborhood. I’ve learned a lot about my neighbors ands they’ve probably learned a lot about me.

We do a lot of shopping, and just about everything comes in a cardboard box. So I know who’s just bought a new TV, vacuum cleaner, printer, or set of put-it-together-yourself furniture. I know who gets meal kits delivered. Diaper boxes reveal who has babies. Homes with dogs have Chewy boxes on the curb. Toy boxes announce weekend birthday parties. I know what kind of beer and seltzer you drink, whether you prefer Costco or Sam’s Club, and the sugary cereal you feed your kids (or consume yourself). I never realized how much privacy you surrender when you conscientiously recycle!

Not only does everything come in a cardboard box, but everything usually comes in a large cardboard box. I know you’ve purchased small items online that were delivered in boxes ten times their size, padded with yards of paper or plastic bubbles. I imagine it’s easier to ship items that way rather than have many different sized boxes on hand. It just makes it more challenging to get all that cardboard broken down and fit into a modest recycling bin.

I’ll admit that I’ve been putting less cardboard into my recycling bin lately. That’s because I’ve been reusing all my boxes to ship items I’ve been selling online. I’ve discovered the demand for used books, toys, and household goods, so I’m thankful for all those cardboard boxes delivered to my front porch each week.

Cardboard boxes aren’t a new thing. The first cardboard boxes were used in England over 200 years ago. Why does it seem like there are so many more of them? We’re buying more and more stuff!

Posted in Life, Moments of grace

Focus on the good stuff

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

Why is it so easy to see the negative?

I just sanded, stained, and sealed a butcher block counter top for an island in our kitchen. Rather than enjoying the finished project, I spent way too much time noticing the little imperfections. Every time I looked at it, I could see spots where the stain was too light. Or a rough spot wasn’t sanded smooth. Or the sealer didn’t quite cover an edge.

I know. Perfection is always just out of reach.

  • When you listen to live music, you hear the mistake rather than the thousands of correct notes.
  • The lawn looks so good, except for that one weed.
  • The stylist has done a wonderful job, except for that one hair you have to trim at home.
  • When you look in the mirror, the only thing you see is that pimple.
  • One misspelled word ruins a wonderfully written essay.
  • Rather than enjoying your detailed car, you only notice the ding in the door.

I always notice the imperfections in the things that I write. Others don’t see it. But I always do. Every time. Why is that?

In a similar vein, it is all too easy to see and point out the goofs in the work of others.

  • A speaker who keeps saying, “Um” or “Uh.’
  • A painter who missed a spot.
  • “That was stupid.”

We live in a world of perfection. Every photo is retouched. Colors are enhanced. Videos are edited. Grammarly scans our paragraphs. Actors repeat scenes 10, 20, or 30 times to get it right. Auto-tune makes vocals sound amazing.

When Covid hit and the church closed its doors, it was so hard to livestream my sermons. Even though I was used to live preaching, the camera in front of me made me aware of every flaw, miscue, and mistake. In those moments there’s not editing, do-overs, or mulligans. You just put it out there. Never perfect. Deeply flawed.

Think about it. A tiny flaw can make a coin or postage stamp valuable. Imperfection is coveted. Why doesn’t every one value our errors?

I had some friends who loved to show off their car. It was a beauty for sure. One day, they came and told me that they had won a car show. But they had only gotten 99 out of 100, because of a speck of dust beneath a speaker cover. Wow. My car has never been half that clean!

I took my car to a car wash place to have it detailed before I went to trade it in for a new car. The detailers did an amazing job. The dealer hardly looked at it at all. Does it run? Does the AC blow cold? Let’s make a deal.

I remember talking to someone whose dementia was robbing them of their memories. The things they remembered included regrets and failures instead of amazing stories about adventure, friendships, and experiences.

I’m glad God reminds us to focus on those things that are pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy (Philippians 4:8). Otherwise, we’d spend way too much time focusing on the negative and forget all the good stuff God has given us!

So today, take a few moments and ask yourself, “What made me smile today? What brought me joy? What blessings did I receive?” Focus on the good stuff.

Posted in memories, Ministry

Visiting: Not as easy as it looks

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Image by Freepik

I wish I had kept count of how many people I visited in hospitals and nursing homes as a pastor. Very few weeks went by that I didn’t have someone to go see.

Some of those visits were very hard to make. I had to jump through a lot of hoops just to get in a building or room.

Like Ray, who was in a nursing home during the pandemic. When the doors finally opened for visitors again, I had to call and make an appointment to come and see him. One visitor per day. Period. When I arrived, I had to take a Covid-19 test. Once that read negative, they took my temperature and had me complete a health questionnaire. A nurse took me into a bathroom to show me how to and then watch me wash my hands properly. And this was for an outdoors visit. I sat at one end of a folding table set up in the front yard of the facility, wearing my mask, while Ray was wheeled out to sit at the other end. Conversing from eight feet away was okay, as long as there wasn’t too much traffic on the road. I confess, when I thought no one was looking, I snuck over and gave him Holy Communion.

Or Wyatt, born at the twenty-sixth week of mom’s pregnancy. I had to scrub in like a surgeon before I went into the neonatal intensive care unit with his mother. I was covered with gown, cap, booties, gloves, and a mask. He was covered with all kinds of wires and tubes. But I got to hold and pray over a little guy who came into the world three months before his birthday. When I saw him last year, he was a handsome thirteen year old young man.

I’ve only made a couple of visits to the jail. First, the person had to put my name on a list as an approved visitor. Then I had to make an appointment on his only weekly visitation day. Upon arriving, I had to put my belt, ring, watch, wallet, and keys in a special locker assigned to me. All that just so I could sit on the other side of thick glass window and speak to someone over a telephone handset for ten minutes.

Another visit during the Covid-19 pandemic was to Mark, hospitalized and in bad shape. He was in a room in a dedicated Covid wing. He could only have one visitor per day at a designated time. His wife surrendered her usual visit so I could go and see him. This visit required I sign a waver that I understood the risks I was taking. I then dressed in a sterile gown, cap, booties, gloves, mask, and protective goggles. I had to pass through two special sets of doors before I got to the hallway where his room was. After the visit, I had to take off all my protective gear in a special area before leaving that isolation wing.

Every visit was interesting, nerve-wracking, and educational. I left each place with a greater appreciation for health-care workers, prison guards, medical technology – and Jesus. After all, this is the exactly world he stepped into so he could be with, love, and save us.

Posted in flash fiction

A bloody, one-star review

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Son of a bitch!”

Drops of blood dotted the floor. I grabbed a paper towel to press against my stinging fingertips. “Man, that stings.”

It was just a simple piece of wood, sanded smooth and nicely stained. Necklaces would hang from a row of gold-colored cup hooks. A few pieces of double-sided tape would hold it to the side of the antique dresser. I could make one of these and sell them in my own online store.

I must have caught a splinter or something. I almost cut myself again before I noticed the shiny metal corners. I rubbed my finger across a razor blade embedded in the edge. Ingenious. Anyone handling this would cut themselves.

I hadn’t read much about the artisan or product reviews. It was cheap. Fifteen bucks. I just added it to my cart and checked out.

Now I was curious. Had this happened to anyone else? How many items had been sold? How much blood had been spilled?

Every review read like a chapter in a horror novel or a really bad night in the emergency room.

“Small barbed pins embedded themselves into the palm of my hand when I opened the jewelry box.”

“Hot water dissolved the mug’s ceramic coating into my tea, resulting in acid burns to my tongue and throat.”

“Blisters covered my skin where the gold chain hung around my neck.”

“Insects swarmed from tiny eggs glued on the back of the wooden picture frame.”

Four stitches and a painful injection later, I put on my thick leather yard work gloves, packed everything back up in the original box, and sent it back. I added my scathing one-star review to many others, warning future shoppers.

Weeks later, wounds just about healed, my wife brought a box in from the front porch. Coughing, she asked, “Did you order something?”

Before I could come out to say, “I don’t think so,” she had collapsed on the floor.

Posted in Stories

Got any cash?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash

I kidded my barber the other day, “You only need cash for a haircut and drugs.”

“Good point,” he chuckled.

First-time customers learn that the hard way when they pull out plastic after getting their hair cut. When they are told, “We only take cash,” they usually have to run out to the ATM and come back to pay.

My first stop that morning had been the ATM. I pulled out my debit card for the first time in weeks to get a twenty for a haircut. Like a lot of people, I rarely have cash in my wallet. Having been hacked at too many gas pumps I don’t pull out my debit card very often either. Everything goes on a credit card I pay off each month.

So what do people still use cash for?

The barber

Some small businesses like my barber avoid the 3% credit card fees by only accepting cash. My wife used to frequent an old-school stylist who insisted on cash or check for pricier color and perms. I’ll bet most salons take plastic, though.

Drugs

Let me be clear: I have no experience with this. However, I believe you need cash to purchase marijuana in states where recreational use is legal. The illegal stuff you get on the street? I’m assuming you need cash.

Panhandlers

I suppose these guys and gals depend on the spare change you have in your pocket. Although that’s not always the case. I’ve actually seen a few withVenmo IDs and Cashapp QR codes on display so you can help them out.

Valet parking, shuttle drivers, and street musicians

If I’m on top of things, I’ll make sure I have a few bucks on hand. But if I forget, many of them have online payment options, too.

Tolls

Not any more. Most toll roads require a chip in a sticker on your windshield. Either that, or they’ll find you through your license plate and bill you later. I used to have a lot of fun seeing how fast I could drive through the toll plaza on the Garden State Parkway and toss coins into the collection basket. More and more states are tearing down their last toll booths.

Gifts

Don’t you love it when you open up a card and a fifty or one hundred dollar bill falls out? Of course, you can’t hardly use big bills at the store. You probably just deposit the cash in the bank. But it just feels a little better than just getting a check.

Fund-raising

Want to make the football team or cheerleading squad? Be ready to stand outside a grocery store, persuading the few shoppers who do pay with cash to give you their change. Those organizations must still get donations that way, because they are out there every weekend.

Garage sales

If I’m garage-saleing, I’ll bring cash, but more and more people take online payment.

Avoid scams

When we tried to sell some items online, the first response we got was, “Do you take Venmo?” For this, my immediate response was, “Absolutely not. Cash only.” Stories of scams abound.

Kids

You have to use cash to teach your children about money. As parents, we got tired of constant begging to buy stuff at the store. Giving them a cash allowance means they have to bring money to buy something. “Can I have one of those?” “Where’s your money?” End of discussion.

Disaster preparation

Getting ready for a hurricane includes having some cash on hand. When the power’s out, that might be the only way to buy what you need for a while. Sometimes I remember to do this.

I suppose there’s more I haven’t thought of. Like much of the world, I’ve gotten used to not having cash on me. You’ll always get a chuckle when you ask me, “Got any cash?”

Posted in Life

This is boring

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Jayalekshman SJ on Unsplash

“Are you bored yet?”

Curious friends have asked me that question three times since my retirement a little over a year ago. In each instance the questioner knew someone (or was the person) who retired, got bored, and found another job within a year.

My answer: “Nope.”

I’ve been pondering that question. Channeling Jerry Seinfeld, I wonder, “What’s the deal with boredom?” Is it a bad thing? Is it always a bad thing? And why is it a bad thing?

I was teaching the third commandment to middle school students and asked if they had any questions about worship. Without hesitation one asked, “Why does it have to be so boring?” Good question.

What do you find boring? When do you find yourself yawning or glancing at your watch? The classic pitcher’s duel in baseball, with lots of strikeouts and a 1-0 final score? Ninety minutes of soccer? The ballet? Opera? The art museum? Sitting through a conference session as the speaker reads a research paper?

I never said, “I’m bored” to my mom or dad. They would quickly reply, “I’ll find something for you to do,” and it wouldn’t be pleasant. They didn’t consider it their job to entertain us. Bored? “Go play.”

When did boredom become a thing? There was a time not that long ago when people spent most of their time growing, hunting, and preparing food, walking from place to place, and sewing clothes for the family. There was little time to be bored. The long hours and few days off of the industrial age kept everyone busy.

But what happens when you add a little technology? Or invent the weekend? What do you do when you’ve got a little more leisure time? You fill it with something. You fill it with things like radio, movies, TV, internet, streaming video, and social media. We’ve gotten so used to the stimulation created by information, communication, and entertainment we can hardly stand to be without it. That is, we get bored.

But is boredom a bad thing? My research isn’t scientific. It’s limited to observing my own grandchildren. When they don’t know what to do with themselves, I’m tempted to step in and entertain them. What happens if I don’t? They find something to do. They find imaginative and creative things to do. Left to their own devices, the floor is soon covered with a zoo made from some blocks and miniature animals. I’ll hear the cry, “Order up!” come from a make-believe kitchen. One will open a picture book and create their own story. A few sticks is all they need to reenact a battle of some kind. Creativity blossoms from a moment of boredom.

I’ve run a lot of miles, but I’ve never once ran with earphones. Within the first mile, without anything to listen to, my mind swirls with more ideas, melodies, memories, conversations, and reminders than I come up with any other time. I don’t run as much now, but I walk a lot, and I’m delighted to say my experience is the same.

Yes, creativity flourishes in boredom. It hardly ever shows up when I’m trying hard. It more often thrives in moments when I have no interruptions, notifications, appointments, commitments, or anything else to do. In that space that some describe as “boring,” I think of stories to tell, places to go, and new projects to begin. I love that space.

So, I’m changing my answer. Am I bored? Yes. And it’s wonderful.

Posted in fitness, Stories

Crossover Symmetry: a great product and great customer service

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I have long been a fan of Crossover Symmetry. I remember seeing a whole set on the wall at a CrossFit gym. I pulled on a few bands now and then, but didn’t really understand the concept. Until my shoulders began to hurt.

I didn’t realize how bad my shoulder mobility was until I started doing handstands, overhead squats, and kipping pull-ups. Things I had always done without a thought became painful. Like pushing open the car door with my arm. Or reaching back to apply sunblock to the back of my neck.

I became a student of shoulder mobility stretches and exercises. I watched every YouTube video I could find. I ran through routines with stretchy bands and PVC pipes before every workout. These helped, but never really solved the problem.

Then I stumbled upon a promotion for Crossover Symmetry. I actually read the chart on the wall and started doing those motions before my workouts. It was magic. My shoulders felt so much better. I loved them so much I bought my own set for my garage gym. With a set of middle-of-the-road (neither beginner nor elite athlete) purple and red bands on the concrete block wall I was ready to go. I did both sides of the instruction card almost every day, working on my shoulders and scapula. My pain disappeared and my mobility improved.

That was four years ago. About a week ago, I was running through the exercises when I felt a “pop” from one of the purple bands. Uh-oh. Something had come loose inside the fabric sleeve, and it was no longer stretchy.

I got online and checked for any warranty. The warranty is excellent, but it’s only for two years. Okay, maybe I can repair it. I wondered what was inside of those well-made sleeves. I carefully sliced one open with a knife and found a stretchy tube inside that had simply snapped. The rest of the tube was cracked and dried, too. I wondered if I could get a replacement part. Everything else, from the handle to the fabic sleeves to the carabiner hangers was like new. So maybe.

I found my email receipt from four years ago, and sent my question to customer support at Crossover Symmetry. “Can I repair the purple band, or do I need to purchase a replacement?” I was pretty sure I knew the answer, but it never hurts to ask.

A few days later, I got a reply. “I’m happy to hear that you’re a fan. I would be happy to send you a new pair of purples. My gift for spreading the word about Crossover Symmetry.” I never expected such a gracious reply! And this post is my part of the deal.

I’m back in business. It only takes ten minutes to run through the shoulder and scapula motions. The routine works through all the different planes of motion in my shoulders. What a difference! I can workout pain free and my mobility is much better. I am no longer doing CrossFit, but warming up with Crossover Symmetry has served me well through a variety of streaming Bodi (formerly known as Beachbody) workouts.

Crossover Symmetry has systems for backs, knees, hips, and core, too. I haven’t tried them, but I’ll bet they are just a good as the products for shoulders. Customer service? Awesome! Thanks.

Posted in Crossfit, Life

Bring your horse, but leave your dog at home

Posted on by William Douthwaite

My favorite grocery store, where it’s a pleasure to shop, said “Enough is enough.” While I’ve never thought of bringing my dog shopping with me, plenty of folks walk right in a their furry canine friend on a leash. The only other companion pet I’ve seen is a lizard on the shoulder of a shopper in a big box home improvement store.

My dog would love to come shopping with me. There are snacks around every turn, from meat to cheese to cookies and dog treats. There are people to meet and children to chase and so many smells to smell.

My dogs have always been a comfort to me, are faithful companions, and never fail to lift my spirits. But I can be away from them for a short shopping trip. When I get home, they’ve guarded the house, are excited to see me, and will sniff my shopping bags in hopes of a treat.

The verbiage on this sign that caught my attention referred to miniature horses who functioned as service animals. I have never seen a miniature horse in a store. I would love to see a miniature horse in a store. I’ve seen a mastiff as big as a horse in Walmart, but never an actual horse.

I’ve learned that miniature horses make good service animals, most often for the blind or visually impaired. They live longer (up to thirty-five years), they don’t shed (sorry, retrievers!), house train easily, and they are not as social as dogs tend to be so they do better in public spaces.

I really want to see a miniature horse in the store, legitimately guiding a person who relies on them for sight or stability. And I want to meet the doctor who will write a note saying you need an “emotional support pet.” Come on, doc. Everyone needs a dog! That’s not rocket science. And don’t you be billing my insurance for that prescription.

Posted in growing up, Life

We had fireflies.

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Rajesh Rajput on Unsplash

“Look, fireflies!”

It’s not like we had never seen fireflies before. Both my wife and I grew up with backyards full of the tiny flying lights every summer. We filled up glass jars with the easy to catch insects and punched air holes in the metal lids to keep them alive and light up our rooms after bedtime. That project never really worked, but were convinced that the right combination of bugs and grass would turn the night into day.

I’ve read that there are many species of lightning bugs in Florida. We’ve got the right conditions, but I’ve never seen one in the northeast part of the state where we currently live. My most recent sighting has been in western North Carolina, when dusk brought the cry, “Look, fireflies!”

Bioluminescence is magical. Light that does not come from a bulb. There is no cord plugged into the wall. There is no battery. There is no flame. A little biology, a little chemistry and there’s light!

Lightning bugs bring back great childhood memories. My grandchildren love to play with flashlights, small battery powered votive candles, glow-in-the-dark toys, and go to bed with nightlight stars covering the ceiling.

We had fireflies.