Information Overload

A Norvell Note

December 21, 2022 – Vol. 26 No. 41

Information Overload

As I finished this article, I realized that I might be adding to your information overload. If so, please set it aside for a later read, or discard it altogether.

The stack of mail kept growing and had grown so tall I could no longer ignore it. Opening envelope by envelope, I asked myself why I was getting so much information. In some cases, there were duplicate mailings—so much mail.

I look at the number of already-read emails in my box that should have been deleted or moved and wonder if I’ll ever organize them. The same is true with my phone’s text messages, private messages, voicemails, phone calls, advertisements, and reminders—so many ways to communicate.

With the television remote in hand, I scan the listings of regular stations and streaming services looking for something to watch. The news correspondents and talk show hosts constantly yell, “Hey, listen to me! You need to hear this.” Do I? So many channels.

When watching a sporting event, the announcers have statistics on every player and every team that ever wore a uniform, and they share it all—so much information.

With so much information demanding my attention, there are days and nights when I just want to say, “That’s enough!” I’m not anti-devices, anti-social media, or anti-information. On the contrary, I am careful to monitor my viewing and listening habits, but still, there are days and nights when I get overloaded and overwhelmed with so much information.

When that happens, I must intentionally make a change. I turn down the volume, take a break, and enjoy the quiet. The messages, calls, advertisements, and one-sided conversations are still there, but I can choose to disengage. I have learned that my immediate response is not always necessary. And the world is not likely to stop spinning if I turn off the news, mute the game’s announcers, wait to hear a podcast, or ignore a text or email for a few minutes.

I know this all sounds simple enough as I type it, but I understand it’s difficult for some. It is difficult for parents with babies, toddlers, and teenagers. It’s not easy for parents with sick children, parents who do not know where their child is, or couples trying to have children but cannot. Those situations take information overload to a whole new level.

To make matters worse, the possibility of information overload increases during this season of supposedly silent nights where all is calm, and all is quiet. But taking time to relax and reduce the noise is up to us. My wish for this is that you do whatever you are comfortable with to reduce the noise and slow down the flow of information during the Christmas and New Year’s holiday season, and in the coming year.

Tom

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December 8, 1964

A Norvell Note

December 12, 2022 – Vol. 26 No. 40

NOTE: I originally wrote this, as you can see, on December 5, 2016. I’m reposting it (with a few edits) now because the memories of December 8, 1964, seem to crowd out all other thoughts and squelch most of my creative thinking for a few days.

December 8, 1964

Originally Posted on December 12, 2016 by TomNorvell

Vol. 18 No. 49 | December 5, 2016

It was Tuesday afternoon, December 8, 1964. That is the day that my mother died. I was eleven years old.

She had been sick for several months. How many? I do not remember. But I remember the afternoon of December 8, 1964.

The school bus made the stop at my Aunt Eunice and Uncle Ruby’s grocery store at the intersection of Highway 4 and Melrose Lane. I had the option of getting off the bus there and making the quarter-of-a-mile walk to my house. Or I could stay on the bus until it made the loop back around to my house. If I stayed on and helped Mr. Day make sure all the windows were shut, he would often buy me a soft drink at one of the nearby cafes. On that Tuesday afternoon, I saw my sister and brother-in-law’s car at the store, so I decided to get off. Little did I know what was waiting for me.

Just inside the door on the left, a couple of chairs were inviting the regulars to sit, catch up on the latest happenings, enjoy a soda from the refrigerated box, or enjoy a candy bar from the glass-covered case just a few steps away. That is where I saw my sister and brother-in-law sitting as I opened the door. I can still hear the jingle of the bell situated to alert my aunt and uncle that a customer had arrived.

I do not remember the details of what happened next. They told me that Mama had died, but I do not recall the words. I do not remember if I cried, although I am sure I did. I remember seeing my aunt and uncle standing behind the cash register and the woman who would eventually become my stepmother smoking a cigarette at the end of the counter. She had known for a while that her time with us was limited. She had talked to all of us about it, so technically, we knew this time would come, but mentally and emotionally, none of us were prepared.

The next thing I remember about the afternoon f December 8, 1964, is pulling into the driveway of our house. My Uncle James (my mother’s brother) greeted me, walked with me out by a big oak tree in our yard, put his arms around me, and said: “Go ahead. Let it out!” And I did.

That was the afternoon of December 8, 1964. That was fifty-two years ago (fifty-eight now).

We eventually went inside the house where my grandmother and other family and friends were gathered. I have only a few sporadic memories of the days and months following.

My memories of that afternoon are hazy but the lessons I have learned since December 8, 1964, are not.

I have learned that loss is painful and inevitable and that the pain may never completely go away. For an eleven-year-old boy, the loss of a mother is beyond traumatic. For a sixty-three-year-old (sixty-nine) man, that loss is still very real. Yes, I have matured and moved past most of the intense pain of that afternoon, but there are still days when I long to hear her voice and feel her touch. I would love to have another taste of her fudge, Divinity, at Christmas time, hear her pop popcorn in a skillet, and eat her fried chicken and coconut cake. Much of my life has been lived to honor her life and her memory.

I have learned that life is short and passes quickly. Forty-four years is not a long time to live, but if lived well you can influence a lot of people. Poetry and song often state that it is not the length of one’s life that counts as much. It is the quality of one’s life and the number of lives that are touched that matter.

I have learned that family is important and should not be neglected. The family must be a priority. Quality time with family in large quantities is also important. If you are fortunate enough to be able to spend time with your family, please do not neglect or take for granted that time.

I have learned that what we leave behind is probably more valuable than the things we accomplish from day to day. Here I sit, fifty-eight years later, thinking about the mother that lived only eleven-and-a-half years of my life. I am only one of four children she influenced. Her grandchildren and great-grandchildren and all who follow will reap the benefits of the impact she had in her short life.

And, I have learned that a life surrendered to the Lord God Almighty, no matter how short or how long, is one that never ends.

May 24, 1920, to December 8, 1964, are the dates that mark a life that continues to live. It was a Tuesday afternoon, December 8, 1964…

Tom

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Peace On Earth

December 5, 2022 – Vol. 26 No. 39

Peace On Earth

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” (Luke 2:13-14)

Peace on earth is why Jesus came to earth. Peace on earth is what we pray for every day. Peace on earth is what we pray for especially this time of the year.

We sing songs about it. We send cards with the sentiment in them. We light up our yards with the words. We hope in our hearts for it.

And yet, we look around us and find very few signs that there is peace on earth. We wonder if there will ever be peace on earth.

And once again we are reminded that peace on earth begins with me.

Peace on earth is not the responsibility of the political leaders, nor is the responsibility of higher education or leaders of the churches. Of course, those people and those institutions can and should do their part, but peace on earth begins with me.

It is my responsibility to first find peace with God and allow that peace to radiate from me to my family, my friends, my co-worker, my church, and all people with whom I interact.

Peace on earth will come when I lay down my anger and resentments. Peace on earth will come when I accept that I do not control people and most events and allow God to do what only He can do.

Peace on earth, for my circle of influence on the earth, begins with me. So, my prayer is to let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.

I invite you to join me and let’s bring peace to our part of the earth.

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The Moment That Could Not Last

A Norvell Note

November 28, 2022 – Vol. 26 No. 38

The Moment That Could Not Last

From the soundtrack of A River Runs Through It, one 84-second excerpt always catches my ear and takes me to another place. The name of the piece is The Moment That Could Not Last. Every time it plays, I pause, time stands still, and reflect on moments that could not last.

When my wife and I were dating and in the early days of marriage there were moments that I wanted to last. The first time we kissed. The first time we said I love you. Our first Christmas and anniversary. The birth of our children we held them for the first time. I wanted those moments to last forever. But those moments did not and could not last. As they have grown and become parents themselves there have been more moments than I can recall that could not last.

There have been moments in ministry that no matter how much I wanted them to last, they could not. There were the Saturday night devotionals around the campfire when we sang and never got tired. There was the worship assembly where God’s Spirit was active. There were weddings that I officiated and saw the look on the groom’s face when his bride came into his view. There were the meals with friends when we cried because we did not know when or if we would see each other again.

I could also include holidays and vacations with my family, coffee with a friend, standing by the ocean at sunset, golf on a beautiful day, time with our grandchildren, watching my kids play sports or perform on stage, and ordinary times with people I love. All were moments I wanted to last but could not.

Every time it plays, I pause, time stands still, and reflect on moments that could not last. Sometimes I weep. Sometimes I smile. Sometimes I play the song again and wish those moments could have lasted and thank God for those moments that could not last.

I treasure those moments that could not last, and I long for more.

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Expressing Your Gratitude

A Norvell Note

November 14, 2022 – Vol. 26 No. 36

Expressing Your Gratitude

For many, Thanksgiving is the most enjoyable time of the year. Unless we complicate it, it can be simple and calm. Family and friends gather to enjoy a delicious meal, renew friendships, and share memories as you make new memories. You love your life and have no trouble expressing your gratitude.

For all of us, Thanksgiving is an opportunity to count our blessings and express our gratitude to God, the people God has put into our lives, and all our physical blessings. Life is good for you, and you have no trouble expressing your gratitude.

For others, Thanksgiving is a difficult time of the year. The day marks the beginning of the holiday season shifting into high gear and we are reminded of those who are no longer with us. The pain of the empty chair at the table is too much for some. It is difficult but you do your best to express your gratitude.

And for many others, Thanksgiving is a season of endurance. You are away from home, and your loved ones, and you realize they are making new memories without you. This is the first holiday you will spend without your mother, dad, brother, sister, son, or daughter, but they are on the other side of the world serving in the military, on the mission field, or providing for your family. Your life is hard; you are all alone and miserable. Someone you love with all your heart is sick and you try as hard as you can, but expressing your gratitude is not something you can do.

Regardless of where you are this Thanksgiving season, I offer this prayer.

Father, please listen to my heart for I do not how to express the gratitude I feel in my heart.

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Thank You

A Norvell Note

November 14, 2022 – Vol. 26 No. 36

Thank you,

Dear Readers,

Thank you for taking the time to read this Note, and for any other times, you have taken a few minutes out of your day to read my thoughts about Jesus, God’s love, observations about nature, people, places, and ponderings.

Thank you for reading and tolerating the times when I have whined about my life. Most of the time I am aware of how blessed I am now and have been throughout my life.

Thank you for the weeks when you could not make sense of my words, but you kept reading and came back the next week.

Thank you for your kind and gracious comments that mean more than you can imagine.

Thank you for sharing your stories and letting me know when my words touched your heart or struck a nerve.

Thank you for giving me grace when you disagreed with my thoughts, opinions, or views.

Thank you, especially over the last eighteen months, for how you have expressed your concern for our family through your notes, emails, texts, and prayers. And thank you for the comfort I feel in knowing that you will continue to cover us with prayer.

Thank you for reading A Norvell Note.

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Moving Stories

A Norvell Note

November 7, 2022 – Vol. 26 No. 35

Moving Stories

By moving stories I’m not referring to stories about dogs being rescued from deplorable and abusive situations, or dogs running for help because their master is trapped in a mineshaft under a fallen tree. I’m not going to tell a story about a football player that had never played a down all year but gets in the game and makes the play that allows his team to win the championship. I have nothing against dogs or those tear-jerking stories, but those are not the moving stories I have in mind.

I’m talking about real moving stories, stories that happen while moving from one house to another.

For instance, have you ever noticed that your possessions seem to multiply when you start packing for a move? No matter how much you think you have downsized and discarded, you pack and load, load, and pack, then you look in a closet and see boxes and bags and clothes you do not recognize.

And what about, when you finally get everything out of storage and into your house and you look in your garage and wonder where did all this stuff come from, and what you are we going to do with it?

And then, when the new refrigerator is finally delivered, and you start removing the plastic protective coating, Styrofoam, and tape and you notice that there are little circular stickers on every tray and glass shelf. You struggle to pull one off and read what it says, “Please remove.” It is written in four languages.

Finally, you are in your new home. You have time to sit, relax, and reflect on this latest move, and all the other moves you made through the years. The memories start flooding in. You remember the dreams you had with each move, you remember the laughter and the tears, you remember the meals you shared with each other and with guests, the conversations you had. Then, you look around your new place, take a deep sigh, and pray: “Lord, thank You for the blessing of this house, and help us fill this home with love, gentleness, kindness, and lots and lots of grace for each other and all who enter our door.”

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James Robert Gilbert (Bob)

A Norvell Note

October 24, 2022 – Vol. 26 No. 34

Bob Gilbert (James Robert Gilbert)

Bob “the Rock” Gilbert was the devoted husband to my sister (My Big Sister) for more than fifty years. From my vantage point, he was a great father to their two children and a true servant of the Lord. He was a dedicated worker and well-respected in the community. Bob was a good, good man. I loved and respected him, and I will miss his booming voice, laugh, and presence.

My first memory of Bob was when started dating my sister and began showing up at our house. He drove a truck for Richie Groceries. I remember thinking, he was so tall and had the biggest Adams Apple I have ever seen. Of course, at that age, I had not seen that many Adams Apples, but I was sure Bob’s was the biggest, and I wondered if mine would ever be that big.

Later, and probably after they married, when we’d be visiting in their home or ours, he would occasionally pick up a volume from the set of encyclopedias and sit and read it. I remember thinking that he must be smart or bored. Maybe it was both, but I could not imagine why anyone would voluntarily read from an encyclopedia. Through the years I realized that he truly was an intelligent man.

When I was old enough to ride my bike into town, I often stopped by their house to hang out for a while. I felt right at home. One day I parked my bike in the front yard and bounced up the steps on the porch and in the door. It just so happened that Bob sitting in the room cleaning a handgun. I froze, and in a booming voice that resembled James Earl Jones, I heard, “Boy! Don’t you ever do that again!” I always knocked after that.

With our parents gone, Genia and Bob’s home became the gathering place for a Christmas invasion for the families of the three brothers. People sleeping all over the house, making noise, and eating everything in sight, made the holidays anything but calm and quiet. I suspect there were times when he decided that going to work on cold icy mornings was a welcome respite. We all felt bad for him because of his hearing loss, but Bob may probably saw it as a blessing.

The image that is indelibly planted in my heart came during a visit not long after Kim and I were married and early in my ministry. It was a quiet Saturday afternoon in their living room when a neighborhood child banged on their door in a panic. The children were playing in the front yard and one of them got hurt. The mother was at work and no adult was at home. Within seconds Genia and Bob down the street, took care of the injured child, bringing comfort and calm in a very tense and potentially dangerous situation.

I sat in awe as I reflected on the words of a couple of mentors who were trying to guide me along the “right” approach to ministry that included believing and teaching that anyone outside of “our” fellowship had no chance of going to heaven. As I witnessed Genia and Bob being Jesus to those children, I thought, if they are not going to make it, what chance do I have? Gratefully my approach to ministry was different after that afternoon.

Thank you, Bob, for marrying my sister.

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You May Never Know

A Norvell Note

October 17, 2022 – Vol. 26 No. 33

You May Never Know

I am once again reminded of how important it is to understand that what we see on the surface may not be the complete picture of what is going on in a person’s life. You can assume that what you see is all there is. But you may never know.

A child’s grades drop, and her behavior takes a sudden and dramatic change. You wonder about the cause. You may never know what is going on in her home that might have caused the changes.

One of your best employees starts showing up late, missing meetings, and becomes distant and apathetic. You may never know what he is facing when he goes home or what he tries but can’t leave behind when comes in from work.

Your neighbors seemed like the perfect family, but something changed. They seldom spoke and stayed to themselves. You may never know the struggles they’ve been having or the tension that exists on the other side of their front door.

Every week he comes in a little late and takes a seat on the back pew, then he leaves a little early. You wonder why he does that. You may never know.

We encounter people every day who may be suffering from an illness, going through a breakup or divorce, grieving the loss of a loved one, or living in a house filled with anger, violence, abuse, and sadness. Or maybe they go home to an empty house every night. And you may never know why they act the way they do in public.

You may never know, that is unless you ask.

If you ask, they may tell you to mind your own business. Or they may thank you for noticing and ask for your help. They may share the reason for sadness, being standoffish, or why their heart is breaking. They may. But you may never know unless you ask.

Is there someone you are concerned about, but not sure what’s going on? They may act like they want to be left alone. Or they may be praying that God would send someone to help. You may never know unless you ask. So, maybe you should ask.

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Keep Silent

A Norvell Note

October 10, 2022 – Vol. 26 No. 32

Keep Silent

The Lord is in his holy temple;
let all the earth be silent before him.
Keep silence, keep silence, keep silence before him.

You may have sung those words as a reminder that it is time for a worship service to begin, so quit talking in the foyer and find a seat. There may be a deeper meaning.

If you read Habakkuk, you will find the verse at the end of chapter 2. The book of Habakkuk examines injustice from the experience of a righteous person crying out to God for a remedy. God responds to the prophet: Be patient, observant, and steady in your faith, for my judgment will happen at an appointed time. God’s response allows Habakkuk to rejoice in God’s saving power—even while struggling with a question that every generation asks: Why is evil allowed to thrive? The answer is profound yet dramatic: Trust God because He is both powerful and just. (Faithlife Study Bible)

Singing those words reminded me that we are asking the same question today, why is evil allowed to thrive? Among the responses God suggests to the prophet is to remember that God is in His holy temple and keep silent. There’s more to the warning than just being quiet. It means to be calm and remember the Lord is still in His place. You can trust Him.

Those words are a good reminder for us.

When we hear about the injustice and chaos in our world, remember that the Lord is in His holy temple. Keep silence.

When we are confused and afraid, remember the Lord is in His holy temple, and keep silent.

When we are overwhelmed by fear and anxiety, remember the Lord is in His holy temple, and keep silent.

When loss and disappointment sadden you, remember the Lord is in His holy temple; keep silent.

It was helpful instruction for the prophet and wise instruction for us.

The Lord is in his holy temple;
let all the earth be silent before him.
Keep silence, keep silence, keep silence before him.

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December 8, 1964

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