Tuesday, May 20, 2014


Yeah.  Okay.  How did that happen?  I just officially became one of "Those People."  You know.  Them.  The ones that begin a blog and then a month later you find them writing, "I haven't blogged for a while.  But I'm back and I'm going to write every day from now on."

And you know they are lying.

So I'm not saying that.  I am not a slave to my blog (though I love it dearly.)  My blog is a slave to me.  It is my own personal space.  You are a guest.  (Wipe your shoes.)  Some years back I wrote multiple times each week.  In those days I was not a Senior Pastor who was expected to provide fresh insight into God's Word several times within any seven day time frame.  I have found that some of the creative energies I formerly poured into this blog now get poured into sermons.

So I asked God.  He said sermons are more important than blogs.

My creative wells do run a bit shallow sometimes.  But then, so does my intellect.

I digress.  On to more interesting items...

My greatest difficulty at the moment is the insane speed of time as it rushes toward June.  That month contains both Father's Day, and my birthday. 

Father's Day is a piece of cake.  I am a Father three times.  And so I have earned the steak and the cake.  Grill me up a red one and make the other one chocolate.  (Please know which is which.)  That should hold me through the day.  Being a dad has always been one of my favorite things to be.  When the kids were kids ... you know ... little ... I told them what to do and they believed that I knew everything.  Now they are adults.  I don't tell them what to do and they believe I don't know anything.  Take last week for instance.  Chris bought his son, Judah, new shoes.  He put a picture of the shoes on FaceBook.  Some one left a comment that his family always has "dope shoes."  It seems that I managed to live to a ripe old age, spending 33 years as a youth pastor, without ever hearing the word "dope" used to describe shoes.  Or any article of clothing.  A dope was anybody who knew less than I did about any topic.  And so I googled "Dope Shoes."  When I brought that up for discussion at our Thursday evening family meal last week they pretty much fell off their seats laughing.  At me.  What kind of dope doesn't know what dope means?  And so I took a random sampling of people in the restaurant.  (I am prone to do things like that, much to my kids horror.)  Sure enough, everybody knew that "dope" means "cool."  Everybody but me.  Hey, I can live with the laughter.  The only person with a lower opinion of me than my kids is me.  And that isn't mere poor self-esteem.  That's a firm grip on reality.  But the problem is ... nobody asked me what popped up when I googled "Dope Shoes."  If they had asked, they would have found out that "Dope" is also a clothing line.  For real.  Check it out. .  Shirts, hats, sweats, backpacks.  They are all right there.  I'm quite certain there is a particular market in mind for these clothes.  Still, they do exist.  So asking what "Dope Shoes" are ... is pretty logical.  They will never agree but I win this one.  And I'm feeling rather smug about it.

The birthday issue is a bigger challenge.  I am going to be 59 next month.  But that's a blog for tomorrow.  Maybe.


The Dashboard Poet said...

I remember you and I sitting on Grandma's porch swing (circa 1961), mixing our iced tea with Dr. Pepper ('cuz Grandma said so) and thinking we were pretty cool. Pretty "dope." And we were. We were "dope" enough to know nothing good came from Marmaduke. "Dope" enough to know we were sophisticated just because we were from the big city. "Dope" enough to know we were smarter than Grandma, Mom, and maybe even Dad. "Dope" enough to know we would buckle down the world someday. Yep. We were both dope. But then...I speak for myself. (BTW, your blog is dope to the max. The good variety).

Ron said...

Nobody was ever smarter than dad.