A Norvell Note 

December 31, 2020 Vol. 23 No. 38

All Will Be Well

Here’s the plan. When the clock strikes midnight on December 31, 2020 (that’s tonight), everything that has been wrong with this year will be made right. 

Everyone is vaccinated, and no one had terrible side effects. Those who have been sick are getting well. COVID is a memory only. Hospitals return to typical, and front-line workers are back to working a regular shift.

All the money lost is recovered. Every small business that has closed reopens. Every job is restored and at a higher pay rate than before.

Restaurants reopen for outdoor and indoor dining. 

Coffee shops welcome people to come in, sit, work, read, visit, and enjoy their space.

Stadiums and arenas, and concert venues are full of enthusiastic fans. 

Everyone is pleased with the election results, the relief bill passed quickly and unanimously, and we all get a more generous check than we expected. The transition process is moving forward with total united and unprecedented cooperation. 

Schools reopen completely, parents can go back to being parents, and every teacher gets a big raise. 

Zoom calls are only for the fun stuff. 

Churches start holding in-person services again. 

Masks are no longer needed, and we can hug and shake hands again.

Happy New Year! It’s 2021, and all is well, all will be well. 

If I had the power, that’s what would happen when the clock strikes midnight tonight.

Unfortunately, I don’t have that power, which is probably a good thing. I’m sure I would abuse it and do some dumb stuff. If the only reason you’re staying up until midnight, you might as well go to bed early and get a good night’s sleep because none of the things I mentioned are going to happen on January 1, 2021. 

But don’t give up. Hope is still alive. 

Changing the calendar may not alter world events, heal the sick, transform a personality, or replenish an empty bank account. Still, it does allow you to evaluate how we are living and make needed improvements.

The events of 2020 have reminded us of the importance of staying connected to people we love. That’s a good thing. Take that with you into the new year. Stay in touch. Get reconnected. If you need to express your love and appreciation, say it. Don’t wait until the right time. Now is the right time. 

Living in a pandemic has opened our eyes to the fact that tomorrow is not guaranteed. So, live today. Leave the past in the past. Be present.

The anxiety produced by the Coronavirus, social unrest, and political chaos remind us to be people of peace and calm and discernment. We’ve learned to be careful with our words (some of us). Let’s continue to be cautious with what we say. We’ve learned to listen before we speak (some of us). Let’s keep listening. We’ve discovered how to be gentle and kind (some of us). Let’s continue being gentle and kind. 

It’s a new year. The old year is gone. Struggles will continue, but if we use the wisdom we’ve gained in 2020, then 2021, no matter what it brings, is sure to be a better year.  

“I know that I still have a long way to go. But there is one thing I do: 

I forget what is in the past and try as hard as I can to reach the goal before me.”

Happy New Year, and may 2021 be a year of being blessed and being a blessing, of being loved and loving others, of holding on to hope and sharing your hope with others, and of finding peace and being a peacemaker. 

A Norvell Note © Copyright 2020 Tom Norvell All Rights Reserved

A Norvell Note forthe week of December 21, 2020

Vol. 23 No. 38

Let There Be Peace on Earth

“Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.”[i]

That peace on earth could be achievable addresses a common longing in this season of confusion, unrest, distress, and grief. That I play a role in bringing peace to the world is both challenging and inspiring.

So, I’ve asked myself, how can I help bring about peace on earth? Here are a few discoveries.

Recognizing that I have a role in creating peace on earth is the first step. Just praying for peace does not make it happen. Wishing for peace does not make it so. We will never progress toward peace until I recognize and accept that peace does indeed begin with me.

When I notice people, peace can begin. Peace begins when I acknowledge the homeless on the sidewalk and in the intersection, the dying patient under my care, the family waiting for good news, and my co-workers. The friends in my circle, the prodigal standing at my door or facing me in the mirror, and the people sitting around your table need to know I see them and appreciate their existence.

Peace will come when I listen. When I listen to my spouse, my children, my closest friends, peace can begin. When I listen to the stranger, peace can begin. When I listen to my enemy, peace can begin. When I listen to my client, peace can begin. Listen to their story. When I listen to myself, and when I listen to the Lord, peace can begin. When I listen, truly listen, not just to the words, but to the heart, peace can begin.

When I talk to people, peace can begin. When I speak with them, not down to them, and not about them, peace can begin. Peace can start when I talk to the person in front of me or on the other end of a telephone conversation; or in one of the Zoom meeting windows. When I speak with humility, respect, kindness, and gentleness, peace can begin. Talk with them to learn about them, not just wait for an opportunity to talk about myself.

Peace is possible in our homes, in our workplace, and in this world, and yes, it does begin with me. So, let there be peace on earth.

“Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.” Take time and enjoy the song and video: Let There Be Peace on Earth

“Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!” (Luke 2:14)

A Norvell Note © Copyright 2020 Tom Norvell All Rights Reserved

---

[i] “Let There Be Peace on Earth” was initially written in 1955 for the International Children’s Choir by Jill Jackson-Miller and Sy Miller.

A Norvell Note for the week of December 14, 2020

Vol. 23 No. 37

Your Life Matters

On the anniversary of my mother’s death – December 8, 1964 – I intentionally set aside time to reflect on what that means.

Fifty-six years ago, today, Mama died.

That means there have been 56 Christmases, 55 birthdays, and 55 Thanksgivings without her.

That means she never saw me play basketball, baseball, run track, or my feeble attempt to play football

She never met any friend, girlfriend, teacher, coach, family, or preacher who helped fill in the void left by her passing.

She never met my wife, my in-laws, my son or my daughter, my daughter-in-law, my son-in-law, or our grandchildren.

She never heard me preach, teach a class, sing a song, read even one of my articles, or receive a copy of my book.

She never visited our home, attended graduations, shared a heartbreak, heard me lament over my failures, or celebrated a victory with me.

We never shared a cup of coffee, talked about our fears, our hopes, our dreams, had a conversation about life, faith, church, religion, politics, spoke about how difficult life can sometimes be, and so many other things.

Yet, there is never a day that her influence on my life is not felt, experienced, or seen. Her short life of forty-four years made a profound and eternal impact on my sister, my two brothers, me, and countless other people.

My Mama’s life mattered. Her life still matters.

As I continued my reflections, I recalled that this verse was the basis for the first official sermon I ever preached: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10, NIV)

As I prepared that sermon, I was confident that I had enough notes to preach for at least 45 minutes. At the 11-minute mark, I realized that I had nothing more to say. So, I stopped. Maybe that was the Lord telling me that it’s not the length of the sermon, nor the years of life, that matters, but the quality that matters.

He invites us to live our lives fully and abundantly. That’s how He lived, and His life mattered. That’s how my Mama lived, and her life mattered.

Your life matters. Live it well, and your influence will last far beyond your years on this earth.

Every life matters.

A Norvell Note © Copyright 2020 Tom Norvell All Rights Reserved

ADDENDUM: Let us also remember the 300,000 people who have died this year from the virus. Each life that mattered and they will live on through those who loved them.  

A Norvell Note forthe week of December 7, 2020

Vol. 23 No. 36

Dates We Remember

There are certain days in history that we remember exactly where we were and what we were doing.

I was in Mrs. Roger’s 5th-grade class at Guernsey School when we heard about the death of President John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963.

I was doing homework in my house listening to the radio on April 4, 1968, when I heard about Martin Luther King, Jr.’s fatal shooting while standing on the balcony outside his second-story room at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee.

I was with high school friends on July 20, 1969, Neil Armstrong became the first human to step on the moon.

And I was in a staff meeting at the East Brainerd Church of Christ on September 11, 2001.

I was on my way home from school when I got off the bus at my Uncle Ruby and Aunt Eunice’s grocery store on December 8, 1964, when I learned that my mother had died at the age of 44. This week marks 56 years since that day. I was 11 years old.

Even if I am paying attention, that last date hits me with a wave of nostalgia and sadness. I remind myself it’s coming, I reflect on the many other mothers who have stepped in through the years to help fill that void, and I usually spend time being grateful for the life she lived and the heritage that she left me. After all this time, I still grieve a little.

Although we may not remember the exact time and place where we first heard the word “Coronavirus,” we will never forget the year 2020. We will all remember, and many will grieve.

For those who are grieving the loss of human life, I offer these reminders.

Moving through holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries for the first time is hard. Prepare yourself for some difficult days and nights. Preparing will not eliminate the pain, but it will help.

Let yourself grieve. You need to mourn. If you find yourself feeling angry, it is okay. If you feel like crying, it is okay to cry. Whatever you are feeling is okay. Let yourself feel it.

Let yourself grieve the way that is best for you. Good and well-meaning friends and family may tell you what you should do and how you should go through this time. Let them talk. Thank them. And then, do what you need to do. If they say, “I know exactly how you feel.” They probably don’t.

Don’t hesitate to ask for help if you need it. Asking for help does not mean you are a failure. It merely means you need a little help to get through a rough spell. Call a friend, visit a neighbor, spend time with family, or join a group. You do not need to go through it alone if you don’t want to.

Yes, 2020 will be a year we will always remember, but won’t it be great when we can call it a memory.

A Norvell Note © Copyright 2020 Tom Norvell All Rights Reserved