Bern Sterner rainbow over New York City as captured on the CBS Evening News during the Eve of September 11, 2001
I watched the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 unfold live on t.v. I will never forget. I will also never forget the chivalry of Mayor Giuliani and President Bush, our law enforcement, firemen, and countless volunteers who rushed to the Twin Towers, the Pentagon, the field of Pennsylvania to help. The event consumed Americans for a very long time.
The United States of America mourned and prayed. We became more secure for a time. We rebuilt and life carried on.
Then we became complacent again while Satan got a foothold. He played on our fears, our vulnerabilities whilst taking away our sense of reason, patriotism, and reverence for God. In due time we opened ourselves up to new threats that will someday bring us to our knees again perhaps more severely — I am sure of it.
Who will save us from this evil? There is only one answer for all of us. The answer has nothing to do with our leaders and our public policies. No new world view or world order will stop it. The answer begins in our hearts: believing in the One Who transcends this evil.
Who will save us? Jesus Christ, that’s Who. He is the only One with the power to overcome evil.
(That’s a period at the end of that last sentence.)
The Star of Palmer Lake is the claim to fame of this small town in Colorado by the same name. Built on the side of Sundance Mountain in 1934 and rebuilt in 1976, this 500-foot star shines above the city in December and on special occasions every year. I got to see this local wonder in the year 2003.
Robert had a gentle spirit as a kid. He talked less than his older brother and sister yet they often knew what he was thinking based upon the look on his face. A stern look that made his face turn as red as a stuffed sausage meant that this little kiddo needed to get to the bathroom right quick!
Perhaps Rob was more sensitive than they realized: the kind of kid who took in the good and the bad without saying much while growing up in a single-parent home. Rob looked like his dad which may have given him some slight favor . . . or at least that is what his older brother, Mike and their mom would say. But Rob was too young to really get to know his dad before he divorced his mom then eventually became estranged from the family altogether. How did Robert Matthew Lech get to be so mechanically inclined anyways? Decades later it became very clear that the instruction manual for the Motor City Gear Head that Rob became was in his DNA as well as from those years as a young child when his dad was still around tinkering with this and that in the basement workshop. Just like his Dad, Rob could fix just about anything!
There’s one thing, however, that he could not fix. Rob could not change the fact that his dad left without a trace until many years later. All of the kids would be grown up by the time they learned that “Ted” was living in Florida. The older sister had moved to Chicagoland and the older brother had returned from the Navy. Rob had completed an aviation mechanic certification course with his buddy Karl, then never took the test to actually become certified. Rob drifted a bit then became the Grease Monkey who could answer most any question when you dropped by to see him at the local NAPA auto parts store near Palmer Lake. He would often help his customers fix their cars as well, no charge. Rob had many friends for sure. Many of them joined him at the bar of the bowling alley in the evening, much like the camaraderie of the 1980’s television show, Cheers.
Rob reached out to his Dad some time after receiving his Dad’s address from his mom. It might have been when the family received notice of his Dad’s brother’s passing that they all saw Ted’s address in Uncle Fred’s legal paperwork. Someone had found Ted! Ted’s sister, Lori, went to visit and Ted reportedly shunned her. But for some reason Rob needed to try to reach out to him anyways. Something inside of him still needed to know his father, the one he had come to be like. These things would be revealed many years later, of course. No one got to know Ted just then. Ted responded to the letter that Rob finally sent to his Dad, telling Rob not to contact him again. Ted said that he had a mental illness and he had found a way to live with it which included estrangement from his family and everything in his past. Ted slipped away into anonymity once again. So very sad, really.
Rob was devastated. Rob had another close friend, Dewey, who had passed away which was doubly devastating for this tender-hearted young man. Rob never seemed to overcome the loss of these two important men in his life. His drinking increased and his life crumbled. Before he died he had started to ask questions about God and may have even attended a local church to find some peace. Cans of food from a local food bank were found in his disheveled mobile home along with the slot cars from racing with his dad and brother at local tracks as a boy. Ted Lech, aka “Mr. Motor” was a champion slot car racer and design engineer behind Dyna-Rewind: the fastest motors in the cars on the tracks in the 1960’s. Mike and Rob’s best times were shagging cars during competitions, especially those where their dad smoked all the other race cars every Thursday night!
Dad’s Slot Car
I found the letter from our Dad in Rob’s wallet when my mom, Mike and I got into town after Rob had died. I was devastated. I, too, carried big hurts from our Dad leaving us as children and so did Michael. We needed our Dad and he could not be there. I grieved the pain that my little brother must have carried to his grave. I loved Robbie so much! Then I found a picture in his wallet, the only one he carried with him every day. It was a picture of me. Oh dear. My brother loved me too! Sigh.
I am not quite sure why this memory is so tender for me right now. I am not quite sure why it still hurts so very much. I am not quite sure my little brother Rob knew how much I really loved him. Oh Rob, how I wish you were still here! I wish you could meet my really cool husband Steve and talk with him about cars and motors and carburetors and hemi engines and more! I sure miss you Raaaaaabeeee!
It is quite possible that Steve and I will do some travelling West this Fall. Lord willing, one of our destinations will be New Mexico and potential places north of there for us to live where the climate is dryer. We just may have to visit Palmer Lake, Colorado too.
Rob’s ashes were dispersed at the base of one of the stars on the side of the Palmer Lake Star on Sundance Mountain in the late summer of 2003. Mike and I climbed up the steep slope, hanging onto brambles, posts, and the cables that comprise the outline of the star while our mom waited and watched from the road below. Two of Rob’s friends from the bowling alley lead the way for us while we huffed and puffed fighting altitude sickness to complete our mission to place Rob at rest. His remains are part of the mountain that he called home: the second light fixture from the upper right point of the 5-pointed star. It’s also right next to the resting place of his friend and neighbor, Dewey. Kind of poetic in a way . . .
I do hope that somehow Rob made peace with his past through the tender love of our Heavenly Father before he passed away. I hope that I will see my little brother and his lanky frame, cute smile, and soft brown eyes when I reach the presence of the Lord someday. Hey Robbie, you will always be a shining star in my memories, my heart.
And thanks again for fixing up that 1974 Nova for me too! JJ
This song came to mind with the burdens of late. “Keep moving forward,” my brother used to say. “Trust in the Lord and lean not on your own understanding . . . ” we find in Proverbs 3:5-6. And when I was a girl, it was the singing of Mother Superior in the Sound of Music that captured my spirit. She begins with the instruction that, “we have to live the life we were born to live.”
Ah yes. Now I shall praise my Lord Jesus Christ for bringing it to mind. May the wonder of my youth, the life I was born to live be rekindled in my soul. You too, Gentle Reader. You too. JJ
Lying in the dusk immobile on the asphalt was not the place I had intended to be on Sunday night. It was only the second time I had attempted to ride my bike this year and it ended in a bit of a disaster when my toe clip malfunctioned . . .
Lying on my chase lounge icing my sore, bruised, scraped elbow the next day came with a pretty view of our garden. Both the clematis and the wisteria had started climbing the 8-foot trellises that flanked the flagstone patio. From every angle but this one, their foliage plus the hydrangea, Japanese maple, dwarf mugo pine, and two goldenthread cypress blocked the view of the neighbors. Perhaps in another year the landscaping plan will have achieved its goal of complete privacy!
Lying on the grass after dizziness set in post-crash last night, all I could see above me was a few buzzing mosquitos against the early night sky. I had no idea the extent of my injuries. How would I make it home? We were two blocks from our house and I had not yet moved my left arm in searingly sharp pain. Steve hovered nearby, having dismounted his road bike, waiting for a word from me.
Lying in bed this morning, the wretched convulsive episodes were particularly long. They jarred my tender left arm and beaten-up spirit. The tears flowed easily: the big crocodile type ones that come from deep within. “How much more trauma could my broken frame handle?” I wondered. Probably “all of it” would be the Biblical answer but definitely not in my own strength! The Lord breathed life into me once again and helped me get up out of bed when my world stopped shaking. It was afternoon: time to get breakfast I guess.
Lying on the treatment bed in physical therapy today, I was glad that my PT was a competitive cyclist. Like my husband, he had crashed his bike a couple of times as a consequence of the toe clips of his cycling shoes not disengaging from the pedals. Jason made it sound like a normal occurrence. When you must stop suddenly and the quick turn of your ankle fails to disconnect the cleat that attaches your foot to the pedal, you can do nothing to brace yourself from falling. You simply fall straight down sideways to the hard asphalt or concrete below you. Your elbow usually ends up taking the brunt of the impact. Yup. For me this was followed by my knee, hip, shoulder and head. Thank the Lord for my helmet!
Sitting after dinner talking with my beloved Steve this evening, we reviewed the accident. There were misunderstandings between us that needed to be clarified and a plan put in place should an acute situation like this come our way again. This incident was unlike the medical episodes I encounter every night that often require his physical assistance or supervision. Yet it was very difficult to separate the two types of stressors. We agreed: all we really wanted was a nice activity that we could share together. Instead something went terribly wrong . . . again! So sad.
Reliving the whole ordeal yielded two truths that made this experience significant for our future times together. First, when I was crying in pain I was also scared not knowing if I had any serious injuries (as I still couldn’t move my left arm), struggling to get myself up off the ground the second time, and unsure how to position myself to walk home with my bike. Steve had offered to go get my truck to bring me home. Some other ideas he had ended up stirring some resolve within me to force myself to do as much as I could on my own. Even in this time of mini-crisis, I would not fall victim to another major setback in my health. I cried and groaned in agony for two blocks, stopping periodically as needed. I was going to make it home under my own power no matter what! This attitude carried me though the pain of later dressing and icing my wounds. (Gratefully nothing would be broken or even sprained!)
The next morning was difficult as already mentioned. The second truth was realized as I later was able drag my way through my daily routines. For many of us those routines might mean interacting with real people. For a largely homebound person that means checking social media! And what I found under my brief post on Facebook about the accident and my gratitude for no serious injury . . . was as humbling as it was empowering. My beloved made a comment in which he called me a “tough one.” Really? Yes really! And yes, I guess I am! He added a thought this evening that not everyone can keep on going with all of these struggles going on at once. His words meant the world to me. The person closest to me in this time of unbelievable struggle believes in me. He said I was tough!
Now you and I both know, Gentle Reader, the source of the strength that lies within me. It is not my own, it comes from the Lord. I embody His strength when I have none of my own. When my resolve can bring me no further, my Jesus’ hand covers mine over the handlebars and together we roll that crazy thing home. And when I had to wash open wounds it was the Lord showing me what to do, giving me the courage to do it too. My beloved helped me apply the compression bandages to keep down the swelling and pain. It was my Heavenly Husband who gave me the idea to use this kind of dressing of which I had never used before and was incredibly effective. Wow.
Lying in bed later on tonight I will have much praise for my Lord and for my beloved husband. My arm is working fairly well a day later and I will recover fully. I have learned a little more about the physical toughness that goes with the mental toughness of recovery from serious illness or accidents. Both will happen in this life to all of us. It is my prayer, Gentle Reader that no matter what situation you may find yourself in someday that you too will find the Giver of strength available to each us that knows no boundaries. I’d love to hear about your travels with Him too. Kind of like a bicycle built for two, eh? JJ
First ride this year: that’s me taking a quick ride around the campground, January 2015
Jesus is for the Wounded 
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