Surviving the World

So a couple of weeks ago I broke this tooth. Below the gum line. You know you are in for a good time with the dentist when you do that. I went to visit him last week and he began his torture. They draw it out for as long as possible. He got about half finished rebuilding the fang. That meant I had to go back today. And he did something really cool. I have these three HUGE canker sores where he shot me last week. And today? Today he needed to shoot me in the same places to numb the same areas. That, my friend, means that you get a shot IN the canker sore. Good times! He asked me if I wanted to wait a couple of weeks and come back when it was all healed up. Riiiiight. I put the head phones on and said, "drill me, doc."

That really wasn't the best idea I've had all day.

So now he's almost done. Friday he installs this nice shiny new cap and I dance off into the sunset. I requested one of those diamond studded caps but he told me no. Geez. And here I thought it was actually MY mouth and I got to make the decisions. El-wrong-o.

Then I went and got the oil changed on Emma the Mustang. And she had a bad belt. So Emma got a new belt. Oh, and they lied to me about checking the air pressure on the tires and I caught them so that's one for the good guys.

After that I went and visited one of my friends from church who keeled over and fell out of her pew yesterday morning during church. (Hi Arlene!) She just went ... BAM! Fortunately there were two guys sitting near her and they knew what to do. One was a fireman and one is in the air force and, when over seas, serves as a medic. So she was sitting in the right place. She was pretty much not breathing when she hit the floor but they brought her back. Today all she remembers are these two good looking guys kneeling over her. So for her it's all good. It looks like she's going to be just fine. We'll know more soon. But you know what is truly weird? When I got to the hospital to check on her (we canceled the remainder of the service) there were FOUR people in the ER that had passed out at local churches during their morning worship services yesterday. What are the odds? (I would like to point out that I was not speaking when her lights went out so you can't hang this one on me.)

So that was the high lights of today. And as I type them I realize that there is actually no reason to tell you about them on the world wide web. I mean, it was just a day. I didn't get to help change anybodies eternity. I didn't come up with the cure for any major world ... or even local ... problems. I barely even ate because the inside of my mouth feels like a Mexican drug cartel has been taking target practice in it.

I guess tonight a truth has occurred to me. Some days you change the world. Some days you survive it.

Who dis be?

I got worked over today. Not by a hustler or a con man. By God. He does that every now and then. I've learned to just let Him do what He wants to do because He's going to do it anyway. "Resistance is FU-tile..." I was simply enjoying some time in my man cave. The weather was decaying rapidly (a daily occurrence lately) and the radar was on the mini-flat screen on my desk doing it's "loop" thing. "Meteorological Armageddon" was only moments away.

Then He spoke. No, it wasn't audible. I'm not Moses, ya know. My bushes weren't burning. It was just one of those "still quiet voice" things. But it was clear. And He said ... "Who would you be if all of the titles you hold were suddenly gone?" At my deepest core God looks at me and ask "Who dis be?"

What?

What if I was no longer the husband of Debbie? The father of Kelli, Scott, and Chris? The father-in-law of Joe, Amanda, and Laura? The grandfather of Elle, Paisley, and Judah? The brother of Jim? The pastor of Towerview Baptist Church? The friend of 2 or 3 people? If all of those titles and others were stripped away ... who would I be?

That question makes my brain hurt. The first thing I feel when I think of losing those relationships is fear. I think that is appropriate. I love the people in my life and I love thinking that in some small way I might matter to them. FDR told us that all we have to fear is fear itself. I respectfully submit that he missed that one. I think that he was trying to pump the country up. But that's a crazy idea. There is a lot to fear. Forget Bin Laden. Pay no attention to the drug cartels. The threat is much nearer to home. The thought of losing those relationships causes me to feel fear. And it occurs to me, that fear cannot be held. You can't touch it as you can touch your own face or a prized possession. You can only feel it. Tangibility is not part of its package. So fear doesn't really count. It's there but it isn't. I know that is confusing but trust me on this. The same can be said of sadness, depression, and all other emotions including the positive ones. And the question I was being asked is "Who would I BE if ..." Be. Be.

It occurs to me that if all of my physical relationships were to be swept away I would only have one title left. "Child of God." Or perhaps, "Friend of God." I like them both. And they are both accurate. They came to me by way of a gift. That makes them all the more precious.

Then "The Still Small Voice" pointed out one other truth. Someday ... if only for a brief moment ... all of those relationships will be gone. I doubt that my wife and I "expire" at the same moment. Unless, of course, we pull a "Thelma and Louise." That's not likely since she would, no doubt, make me be Thelma and I hate that name. But even if we did leave this earthly soil at the same moment, every man (or woman) crosses the line from time to timelessness all alone. You are naked. Stripped of all titles and possessions. And at that moment all you have is ... God.

And so this is what I learned today. At my very core my relationship with God is the most vital of all possessions. It is the only thing that will never cease, never fade, never fail. My other titles? Very worthwhile. Also very temporary.

But Jesus? Jesus lasts. And coming face to Face with Him will be enough. Does that take the fear away? I guess I'm one of those, "Oh ye of little faith" guys, because no it does not. Not totally. It tempers it. But it does not erase it. You can call me a weenie but deep inside you know I'm right. My titles will fail. But God is working on my biography. And my biography will last forever.

God Works Through Dummies Too

Every now and then God just decides He's going to do something and even the dumbest of us (me) can't screw it up. Today is a perfect example.

I arrived in our outer office area about 20 minutes before morning bible study today. A friend, Diana, gave me the names of a few individuals who had visited within the last month that she did not think I had. She was right. I thanked her and dropped them on my desk, making a mental note to spend time making some contacts in the coming week. I spent the rest of the hour studying and going over the "talk" I was about to give to the church congregation.

Fast forward about 90 minutes.

Our morning worship service had come to its completion. As usual we "sang our way out." I had gathered up my stuff and was walking toward the rear entrance to the worship center when I noticed her. She was standing between rows of pews and looked a bit disturbed. I felt a clear prompting from God to go and introduce myself. We shook hands and I asked her how she was doing. Tears filled her eyes as she told me that the mornings message had been exactly what she needed. She referred to some "issues in life" that were working her over, yet did not go into any detail. After a few brief minutes of talking I asked if I could pray with her. She replied, "Yes, please." So I prayed a very typical prayer that God would cover her with grace and love, providing for her needs and walking her through her troubled areas. After the big "Amen" I gave her my card and told her to feel free to contact me if she needed to. I turned to walk away but got no more than a few steps when "that prompting" came again. It was just clear that God was not done. He was sending me back to talk some more. He wanted me to be more specific. Don't ask me how I knew. But once you receive a "prompting" from God you tend to remember what it feels like.

I turned and walked back to my new friend. She was picking up her belongings and I interrupted her seeking permission to ask her one more thing. She told me to feel free. And so I asked her what God's Spirit was telling me to ask her. "Has there ever been a time in your life when you have prayed and told God that you wanted to give Him all of yourself? You know, a time when you admitted that you have fallen short in many ways of his perfection and you want to ask Jesus to pay for your sin, forgive you, bring you into His family, and give you eternal life?" She looked down and said, "No, I don't think I have ever done that. I have prayed a lot of prayers. But I have never asked Him that before."

"Would you like to do that now?"

"Yes. I really would."

I prayed, thanking God for this holy moment and asking Him to please hear the prayer of my new friend. I squeezed her hands and asked her to tell God what ever she wanted to.

She prayed out loud. She told God that she was sorry she had messed things up and she wanted to be forgiven. She wanted to be one of His kids. She was willing to live her life doing what He wants her to do from now on. She got quiet. I whispered, "Amen."

And then I hugged her. I told her that we had a lot to talk about and that we needed to do begin that process this week. I told her about baptism and what it means. And then I realized that I really needed to pair her up with a woman from our church. I looked around and there was only one woman left in the worship center (besides my new friend.) I called her over. I told her about what had transpired over the last ten minutes and asked if she would be willing to get in touch with this new believer this week. She looked at our friend, beaming from ear to ear. She hugged her, called her by name, and said that she certainly would.

Hmmm. Strange. I asked her if she new this new Christian. She looked at me like I had three eyes and said, "Of course I know who she is. I gave you her name and address when you came in the office this morning." You see, the friend I called over was Diana. The Diana that had met me earlier in the morning giving me visitors information. I didn't remember any of the names on the card. Honestly, I didn't even remember at that moment that it was Diana who had given them to me.

Isn't that just like God? The morning had come full circle. A new child was born into The Kingdom and he used the least likely guy in the room to do it. The one with no clue as to what He was doing.

I just love it when God works through dummies.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #48

Okay, maybe this isn't a stupid picture. Because it's pretty much true. At least for me.

Reflections on my independence

I love the 4th of July. Independence Day. I mean, if you live in America you love it. Right? It's a given. Fireworks, sparklers, boom-boom, steaks on the grill. The whole nine yards. What's not to love?

But can I be honest for a second? I mean gut-level-I-think-I-must-be-a-jerk honest?

Our Independence Day does not effect me like it should. I should stop and think about what has been sacrificed for me in order for me to enjoy the life of freedom that I have and that should be enough to leave me in a puddle.

And it does not work that way.

You see ... I am spoiled. I have never lived in anything but freedom. Nobody has ever asked to see "my papers" at any border except the few times I have crossed over into Canada. I have been in most states any my license plates have never been looked upon with scorn. I have never been slapped down because of my color, my race, my nationality. It's never once happened to me.

I am enormously glad that this is true. I am grateful. I hope that I will be able to make this statement until the day I die. But I recognize that my lack of personal sacrifice and persecution causes me to simply not fully comprehend my freedom ... much less what others paid for it. My father fought for 4 long years in world war two. He was in a "half-track" with the 2nd Armored Division. "Hell on Wheels." He slept in this track or in ditches. He fought in snow and blistering heat, battling his way across north Africa and then Europe. He compiled memories that he could not talk about. Ever. He was at D-Day +3 on a beach in France named "Omaha." He took part in the Battle of the Bulge. As a result of his war time experiences he could never fully enjoy 4th of July fireworks. The "rockets red glare" and "bombs bursting in air" remained too real to him till the day he died. Dad? He could appreciate freedom in a way that I'll never fully understand.

My blessing is a curse. I am blessed to have never pulled a trigger in anger. I am blessed to have never had a trigger pulled on me in anger. I am blessed by the sacrifices of millions who have gone before me or are serving to keep me free right now. Some of my best friends are numbered among them. I have friends serving on military bases right now. I have friends risking it all on foreign soil right now. And they understand fully what I cannot. They understand the great price that has been and is being paid so that I might live on in my cursed semi-ignorance.

And to those men and women, past and present, I say from the bottom of my spoiled heart ... thank you.

385 In Dog Years

When I was born this house, the Barbagallo House," in Kimmswick, Missouri, was already 105 years old. I take comfort in that. Because I am now 385 years old in dog years. That's 55 in human years. VERY hard to believe. Staring down the barrel at 60? Not possible. Many people have expressed kindness to me today. I am grateful for the multitude of friends that God has given me. A few have been obstinate, reminding me that death is looming. Well, to them I only have one thing to say. I'll probably get to heaven before you will. And when I get there? When I get there I'm going to go mess up your room. That's IF you have a room. Uh-huh. Better think that through. Nothing worse than getting "short sheeted" in The New Jerusalem!

I've been asked what I've learned in 55 years of life. I've tried to boil it down to a few bullet points. For you young'ens ... read and learn.

-Never laugh at old guys. It's like laughing at your tomorrow. And the truth is, you might turn out uglier than the old guy you are laughing at.

-The more you learn the more you forget. It's inevitable. You can only retain so much. But as you increase in age the information you gather tends to be much more important than what you gathered in your younger days. Which means you forget what is least important. Unfortunately, you forget the very part that younger people remember. Because it isn't as important to you. This makes you an easy target for laughter or jokes. Don't let it bother you. Retain what is important and let the laughers laugh. By the time they understand you'll be dead which simply means they can't whine to you and, with any luck, will be in heaven messing up their room.

-Your relationship with God is far more important than anything else. That makes a great sermon point. But forget about that. It's just a simple fact. When your life begins to boil down to what is important NOTHING will top that. So pay attention early. You won't have to spend so much time "cramming for finals" later on.

-Right after your relationship with God you might want to consider cultivating, watering, fertilizing, feeding, your relationship with your family. Do you realize how precious ... how important they are? Who knew you from day one? Who else will be with you on your last day (hopefully?) And honestly, who else would you rather be with? Family. I have many great friends. I'd like to have many more. I'm in the market. But if my phone rings and ANY member of my family is on the other end ... family by blood or family by marriage ... you betcha I'm answering that call. I would move mountains for my family. I would rearrange cluttered schedules. I would walk across hot coals. I would die for my daughters-in-law and my son-in-law as quickly as I would my own kids. They ARE my own kids. Every Thursday night I drive two hours to spend one hour with two of my three kids and their families. MY families. Why? Because it's worth every minute of it. And not just because they might be choosing my nursing home someday. I will do it because, well, because I love them with a deep and impassioned love.

-You don't really have to change your oil every 3,000 miles. Every 5,000 will be fine unless you drive in really dirty places or you stop every block and let your engine idle. I'm not a mechanic. I've just owned a lot of cars. If I'm wrong about this remember ... never take car advice from a pastor.

-Don't take yourself so stinken seriously. You spend much time wondering what people are thinking of you? Let me give you the true answer. THEY ARE NOT THINKING OF YOU. They are thinking of themselves. So please God first and then please those you love and then please yourself. And if others give you grief for it ... laugh at them. No, not to their face because that would be rude and it might get you punched in the nose. But do laugh at them. Certainly don't pay them any undue attention.

-Everybody has an opinion. You want to make somebody angry? Make a decision. You'll hack someone off every time. Get use to it. It's an irrevocable law of the universe.

-Okay, just one last thing. I could go on all night writing this stuff but you are already bored and my 55 year old fingers are tired. So here's the last one. That person who lays next to you at night? You know. Your wife. Or your husband. They are gold. Always, always, always give them the benefit of the doubt. Always put them before yourself. Always make certain that, before they go to sleep or drive away in a car, they know you LOVE THEM. And then tell them one more time just to make sure. Contrary to popular opinion, they cannot be replaced.

"The Birthday Flag" flys at our house in my honor today. (Thank you, honey!)

Vacation update...

When you get these seats at the Brewers/Twins game at Milwaukee's Miller Park...

This is the inevitable result...

To my kids. Thanks for letting me be the dad.

I suppose the typical Father's Day blog would find a person writing to his father. Or perhaps about his father. Tonight I am blowing away all trends. I have something important that I need to say.

Kelli. From the moment they lay you in my arms in the deliver room I was a changed man. I fell into your deeply piercing eyes and my life has never been the same. With your first breath my life was altered for all eternity. You have brought things out of me that no other person could have ever brought out. I was so thrilled to have a daughter. A daughter. Those words rang in my ears when the nurse first spoke them to me. They ring to this day. I could write so much about the in-between days but I would much rather fast forward to today. You were the first one to make me a father. You were the first one to choose a mate. You were the first one to make me a grandfather. And I am so proud of you. But those are not the only reasons why. I watch you live your life, love your family, serve your God, and I can not think of one thing that I would change. You are everything that I dreamed you would be. Everything I prayed you would be. It thrills me to know that you serve God as a ministry leader in your church. But that is not what thrills me the most. It is simply who you ARE. At your core. You are a woman of integrity and honor. You are purposeful. You are loyal. Dedicated. Incredibly resourceful. Independent. Shockingly beautiful. I could go on. But let me say to you one more time what I have told you many times before. If I could have talked to God and designed my own daughter she would look exactly like you. I love you with every fiber of my being and am honored that for all eternity I will be your father. Kelli, you are wise beyond your years and gifted beyond you ability to have learned all you know on your own. God has His Hand on you. And I cannot wait to watch what He does with your life. I love you, Kelli, far more than I love my own life.

Scott. You came into my life wearing a little yellow sock hat. It quickly morphed into a blue Cubs cap. How many baseball beatings have we taken together? More than I can count. Watching you grow up in our home brought me joy I had never known. My first son. Somebody to play catch with. Somebody to teach the letters "ESPN" to. You use to cry and scream when I would get on a bus or into a van to leave on a youth trip. You just wanted your dad. Those moments ripped my heart out. But I walked on and did what God told me to do. Now I understand a little bit about why He wanted me to demonstrate that faithfulness before you. It would not be long until you would be the one climbing on a bus. You would be the one leading the charge of teenagers in a well planned attack on the gates of Hades. I remember the days we "shared a wall." I was a pastor on one side and you were the youth pastor on the other. Those were some of the best moments of my life. The day came when you sat in your room, on your bed, and stared at the walls and the memories they contained. You didn't know I was watching from a distance. You walked outside where your mother and I were waiting to pray for you as you drove off of our drive way for the last time as a resident of our home. I will forever remember you wrapping your arms around my neck and saying, "I never thought they would say yes!" I have to tell you, Scott. I knew from the first moment you began filling out applications that they would say "yes." Because I knew you were called. Scott, I am incredibly proud of you. Of the man you have become. I love you and all you ever have to do is make the call and I am on the road, heading to wherever you are. You are my son in whom I am well pleased.

Chris. I scarcely know how to say to you how much you mean to me. You completed God's gift of children to your mom and I. When you first showed up we realized that we were now complete. Until you came it always felt as though someone was missing. You were that someone. God designed you specifically to be the final puzzle piece to our family. Oh how I loved raising you! Oh the challenges you sent my way! You always did things your own way. I often had to express my displeasure (while stifling a belly laugh) but I can now be honest with you. Almost every time I found out what you had been up to deep in my heart and soul I was thinking, "This is one amazing kid. Magnificently creative. Totally independent upon his own wit and skills. Raising him is going to be a BLAST!" And none of that was wrong. And I look at you today, Christopher, and I stand thrilled and humbled by the man that I see. Overnight you went from "the learner" to "the teacher." How did you do that? I should not be surprised. It is typical Christopher. I have no idea what your future holds, my son. But I know this. It is brighter than the brightest sun. You have grown a heart after God and He is going to use you beyond your wildest dreams. Maybe it won't always be fun or easy. Maybe it will sometimes hurt. But it will be a ride that you will never regret taking. Thank you for calling me "dad." When my phone rings and I see your picture on the screen my heart smiles. And I never know what I am going to hear! I love you so deeply, Christopher. Remain faithful. I will be here for you whether you need me or not!

It is Father's Day. And I am one blessed Father.

10 Years

Ten years ago today life changed forever. I remember the moment as though it just happened. For me, on a personal level, it is a line drawn through the history of my life. On the other side was a naive joy that I totally took for granted. This side of the line contains the things that go along with age and maturity. They are over-rated. They are also unavoidable.

Ten years ago today I was attending Centrifuge with a hundred or so of my closest friends at Union University in Jackson, Tennessee. It was around 9:30AM. I had finished breakfast with multiple tables of teens. And then I had made my way to a pay phone in a university hallway. I had a daily phone call to make.

My dad was sick. He was eighty years old and seemed to be increasingly in poor health. I dialed the number and my mother answered the phone. She quickly told me of how my father had become disoriented the night before, had fallen, hit his head on a night stand, and was now in the hospital. Dad was dealing with what had proved to be a very slow growing liver cancer. He had battled it for over a decade. Lately he was on chemo. It was not fun to watch. Dad was always a man of great strength, both of physical stature and character.

After talking to my mother I called my father's hospital room. He was thinking and talking clearly though he sounded weak. He told me what had happened to the best of his recollection. I assured him that I had plenty of adults to take care of the kids at camp and I would be leaving to come to his bedside on that very day. Dad's response was simple and yet strong. He said, "No son. You stay there and you do a good job." As always I obeyed my dad.

I didn't know it at the time but dad was just over a week away from death. As I thought about that today I realized how blessed I had been. I was 44 years old and, while I had conducted many funeral services, dad was the first person I had lost that I was truly close to.

Ten years. It's very hard to believe. I miss him more than I can say. I still remember his phone number and have an uncanny urge to dial it every now and then. My tower of strength was falling. My hero was coming to the end of his fight. I don't understand it but I miss him more today than I did that first year he was gone.

I hope I have done what dad told me to do. I hoped I have stayed the course. I hope I have done a good job. He may be gone but he's my dad. And I still want to make him smile.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #47

Ya'll drive careful now! Ya hear!
Rush hour in Highland, Illinois.

The Great Donut Harvest Of '10

It works. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Planting Donut Seeds ... Memories in Sugar

Tonight Elle and I planted Donut seeds. Yes, you read that correctly. Donut seeds. We've already reaped a crop of four donuts and I expect more in the morning. What? You find this hard to believe? See for yourself...

I gotta get me one of these...

Click on the video for a better/wider view.

If I Ruled The World - Part 2 (today's rants)

- Everybody has to drive the Popular Street Bridge in downtown St. Louis for a month. Survivors will be allowed back into the general population.


- Skimping on carbonation in fountain soda wins you 3/4 of a normal ration of oxygen per day. Hey ... if it doesn't burn going down it doesn't count.

- Forcing people to pay to park in a garage connected to a hospital results in hospital administrators paying to park at the grocery store, shopping mall and , oh what the heck, stop lights.

- Throwing your "butts" out of your car window gets your butt thrown out of your car window. (I don't really need to explain this, do I?)

- Not paying your employees enough to work at your restaurant (thus forcing them to rely on my tip to put diapers on the baby) will result in your giving them your restaurant. Fair 'nuff.

OH PLEASE let me be in charge...

Tonights Guest Blogger; Mrs. Laura Woods. My daughter-in-law.

I read my daughter-in-law's blog tonight and there is simply no way I can top it. So I am introducing her as my guest blogger for the evening. And I think this just may be my favorite picture of my granddaughter, Elle. Enjoy ...
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This is my niece Elle. She turned 4 last week. This is her new “bell bike” as she likes to say. Not because it has Belle from the movie on it, but because it has a bell she can ring to tell other bikers that she is also now biking. At least that’s what she told me.

Elle is so happy. She helps me remember the amazing joyful imaginative newness of being 4. You can’t keep her down. Not to say she doesn’t have her moments, as does any 4 year old. But then she just ends up right back here. With the wind in her tassels and the sun on her cheeks just waiting to pop out some freckles.

I kind of love her. A lotta bit. As if you couldn’t tell. She’s gonna make a great older cousin to help Judah get in all kinds of mischief.

i.can’t.wait.

If I Ruled The World

- You spill oil in the gulf? You suck it up. You can't suck it up? We give your gas away for free.

-Ribs once a week. It's the law.

- Tailgating would automatically trigger the backward facing Stinger Missile in the trunk of the car in front of you.

- Those headlights that are like ... bluish and retina melting? 20 years in Leavenworth.

- You break your leg celebrating your own game winning grand slam? Walk it off. You can't walk it off? After you heal you spend the rest of your career with 6th grader as your "pinch runner." Oh, and you split your salary with him/her 50/50.

- You don't mow your lawn on a weekly basis? Your neighbors get to mow it for you and then put all of your stuff in a "garage sale." All proceeds go to off-set the loss your presence on the block causes to their property value. Oh. And they get to tattoo a bright red "M" on your forehead (for "Mow-ron.")

- You serve cold french fries at your fast food restaurant? You go door to door in Idaho for a year and explain why you did it. In your underwear.

- You text and drive? Automatic hour in the boxing ring with Oprah. Only your hands are duck taped behind your back and she is on Meth. Oh, and your in your underwear.

- Sagging pants? You lose 'em. Yeah, you get a skirt instead. And if your skirt sags you get leotards. Red ones with runs in them. And NO underwear.

- Full body scanners at every airport. You don't want to use them? Go Greyhound.

Oh, how I wish I ruled the world. I'm just getting started ...

Getting Ripped For Heaven

I didn't want to do it. I did it anyway. Sometimes it feels right and good. Sometimes it hurts. I was pretty certain that today was going to fall into the latter category. But I threw my gym bag in the car, dropped the top, and drove to the gym anyway. Why? Well. Because I was suppose to. Because I'm eating relatively little in order to drop a few pounds and it isn't working. Because I pay them $29 a month and I should take advantage of it. Because I told Debbie that I was going to and I thought it would just be a shame if she collected on my life insurance too early.

So I got there, scanned my membership card, changed clothes and went to make myself sweaty and miserable. I hit about 10 weight machines and climbed onto some aerobic equipment. This is the part I hate. Because it is boring. There are 6 or 7 flat screen TV's on the wall. You can plug your head phones into a little gizmo on your machine and tune in any of the TV's you want. There is a room called "The Cardio Cinema" where you can watch a full length, huge screen, surround sound movie in the dark while working out. And I still get bored.

There is something wrong with me. I already know. No need to point it out.

When I was finished I changed again, slid into the hot tub and the pool. Rough life, huh?

It was in the shower of all places when it hit me. The gym I go to is a Golds Gym. You've probably seen their logo. It's the figure of a bulked up guy holding a bar with dumb bells on each end. The weights are so heavy the bar is bowing. The guy isn't bowing. He's bulging. I stood there with soap in my eyes and I whispered out loud ... "No way. It ain't gonna happen." I've been going to one gym or another since I was in my early 30's. I use to run. I use to lift more than I do now. I've used every kind of aerobic machine you've ever heard of. And after all of these years I finally understood the truth.

No matter what I do ... I am NEVER going to look like that guy. No way. No how. I am always going to look normal. Why? I was never willing to give all that it would have taken to bulk up like that. Honestly, I wasn't there for that purpose. I'm still not. I'm just trying to make sure I leave an old corpse rather than a middle aged one. I'm just trying to make sure I'll be able to actually LIFT my grandchildren rather than just look at them and have them push me around in a chair that has big wheels. Some of the men walking around the work out area really do look like the God's Gym guy. I look more like today's version of Chevy Chase. (Sorry, Chevy.) But more and more ... I'm good with that.

For me, First Timothy 4: 8 puts it all in perspective. It says, "For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come." I want to bulk up on godliness. I want to be all that God wants me to be. One prayer that I have prayed for decades is, "God, do whatever you want to do in my life today to make me the man You want me to be." When God began answering that prayer ... I stopped praying it. Because I found out that it hurt. A lot. But lately I've been praying it again. I guess I've just realized that, hey, if I turn back now .... well, I've run about 5/8ths (6/8ths?) of a marathon and then I sat down on the curb and ate some ice cream. Who would do that? Am I really that stupid? Sometimes, yeah. I am. But I'm trying to break myself of it.

Usually when I get in the shower I just get wet and soap gets in my eyes and then I have a good Herbal Essence cry. Today I got more than I bargained for. I got a reminder of what I am not. And I got a reminder of what I am.

And honestly? I wouldn't trade. Cause in heaven ... baby I want to be ripped.

A picture of love

They were an aging couple when I spotted them. They were older than I am but younger than I will be in 15 years. They were going up the escalator and I was going down. They were entering the hospital and I was leaving. They could have been anybody. As a matter-of-fact, they WERE anybody. I would not recognize them now if they walked into my living room. And yet there was something different about them. She was on the step above him and she talked on the cell phone. I imagined she was talking to a close friend that was a nurse or a medical expert of some sort. I think she needed advice. She looked straight ahead but her body was turned toward the left. And he, a step below, leaned into her chest. His eyes were closed, his head buried into her. Standing on a lower step allowed a minimum of hunkering down on his part in order to fit perfectly into this place of comfort.

You know how escalators are. You go up. They go down. They go up. You go down. You see people across from you for a moment and never again. But this couple remained in my mind as I walked through the parking garage. It was easily in excess of 100 degrees down there. You could taste the air. It was dark and heavy. But all of those feelings and sensations escaped me as the scene on the moving stairs played itself out in my brain again and again. He was sick. She was well. She was bringing him to a specialist at this world renown hospital. He was tired of fighting. She was resolved to get him help. All of his senses were geared toward just getting there and sitting down. All of hers were geared, laser-like, toward getting her husband back. He was not giving up but he was clinging to her for direction and she had become his hope.

Maybe I am wrong about all of that. I don't think so. But this much I know. I was looking at a picture of love. Love is something that is tough to define. But when you see it... you know it. It was not in their walk because they were not walking. It was not in their speech because they were not talking to each other. It was in their posture. It was in their faces... one resolved... one resigned. One defending... one depending. But mainly I felt it. It's waves rippled out from this couple like the sound of a gentle murmer spoken in hushed tones. It was the sound of a crises shared and a solution sought. I had no place in their world. I will never know how their appointment went. I will always wonder what news they received. But I learned from them today. They taught me two lessons. Lean. Support. And of course they taught me a third.... love. no matter what.

Mouse Wars ... part deux

Several years ago I went through "The Great Laundry Room Wars." I think it was 2002. Mice had staged a well planned attack on my laundry room. Given time and tactics I repelled their aggressive maneuvers and rodent tranquility ruled in my home once again. I thought it was over. And then ...

I thought I would be pro-active on my snake-in-the-house issue. It only seems smart. At the recommendation of a friend I bought some "sticky strips" and placed them in the location where my little slithery friend showed-up. It only made sense that if one snake was there and another snake showed up, perhaps he would go there too. The strips looked like this after I placed them ...


We then left for our daughters house to celebrate Debbie's birthday. (Happy birthday, honey!) When we came home I went downstairs to check my traps. No snakes. That's the good news. The bad news? I found ...


He was just a baby mouse. Poor thing. Because the operative word is ... "was."

At least I now know what the snake was after. Tomorrow I set regular (cheaper!) mouse traps around. No more mice = no more snakes. Failing that ... I'm off to purchase a nice snake killing dog. Breed suggestions are appreciated.

Head Med's Rock

Another month. Another attempt at a "Head Med." It's getting a bit old but compared to most I don't really have anything to complain about. Since our trip last October ... OCTOBER ... to L.A. I've been rocking back and forth with weird head symptoms. Nobody is quite certain that there's a connection but I had a head cold when we took the flight west. On the third day of the trip as I was driving through the lovely L.A. traffic my head went all wonky. The lanes started .... moving. No, it wasn't an earthquake. It was a headquake. I signed the keys to the rental over to Debbie (sad) for the rest of the week. The operative theory is that the cold went to my ears and did fluidy kinds of things and that they are still going on. But nobody is sure.

And then there's the fun of coughing and losing my voice. What good is a pastor that can't talk? I think the back row at church is actually placing bets on my sermons. You know ... will he be able to talk by the time he's done? So far, yes. But there's no guarantees.

So today I went back to my new doctor. She listened to my story (again) looked at me like I was a quack and gave me a prescription ... nose spray.

My nose is fine, thank you. Well, as fine as it's ever been. I felt like screaming, "IT'S MY EARS, DARN IT!" But, as you may remember, I lost my last doctor due to a verbal flaw on my part. I don't want to lose this one too. So I guess I'll spray this stuff up my nose and see if my throat and ears get better.

In the meantime, if you see me coming in my car, pray it isn't a moment of dis-equilibrium. I'm clueless as to what the active ingredient is but I've got to tell you, the codeine in the cough syrup ROCKS.