The Stupid Pictures Chronicles #10

Any idea why the "abandon ship gear" would be PADLOCKED in the locker? "Excuse me. I think the boat is sinking. Could I please borrow the key to the life jackets? No? You don't know where it is? Oh. Ok. Well, can I use your cell phone to call my insurance company and raise my life insurance policy?" I noticed this on a car ferry on Puget Sound and it rates a "5" on the Flash-O-Meter for huuuuuuge stupidity.

Things I Have Learned Today (so far)

I woke up feeling rather poorly this morning and so I decided that it would be best if I write my blog early. I do not want my massive wealth of knowledge to die with me, therefore my purpose in today’s blog is to tell you everything that I know all at once.

Don’t laugh. You might learn something. And do not ask how I learned any of these things. Ever.

Here we go ...
-Never trust any one older than two years old. People learn to be surly early.
-If you do something nice for somebody for free they will be big-time surprised. They probably won’t thank you though. That is way too personal.
-Humidity kills more people than drown in the Bering Sea each year. Be especially cautious of humid days ON the Bering Sea. (This may or may not be true but I think it is.)
-The trophy belt of the minimally successful professional wrestler will kill an ordinary man if it hits you just right.

-Never let any one hear you say, “Hey, I’m all caught up!”
-Never call a woman “wench” even if she calls herself that.
-Dogs do not smile. If a dog looks like he is smiling it is a trick. He is simply wetting his teeth so that they can sink more deeply into your flesh.
-On a hot day “Ice Road Truckers” is the best show on television.
-I asked God for "a sign" about what He wants me to do and now I work at a sign shop. Pray clearly and specifically.
-From 2 until 5 in the afternoon is “The Death Zone” because that is when the sign business turns my brain to mush and I become dangerous to myself.
-If you whip a rubber ball at a co-worker odds are even that you’ll hit the boss by accident.
-Listen to too much classical music at close range and you will start having elevator hallucinations.
-I actually know somebody who knows somebody who got charged with kidnapping today. How cool is that?

It is now nearly 4PM and I think I am going to live. But I’m publishing just in case...

The Stupid Pictures Chronicles #9

The thing that makes this picture so outrageously stupid is not the fact that the sign is posted over the moat surrounding the Gorilla's at the St. Louis Zoo. No, you have to be a little more observant to "get it." If you look to the left of the letters you'll notice that a bird "dropped" something on the sign that most assuredly can NOT be returned ...

Call me warped but I give this a strong "4" on the "Flash-O-Meter!"

Being Simple is Complicated

I did it again. And again. And again. And again.

Get the picture?

One of the most valuable lessons I have learned in my travels with God is that He delights in simplicity. Oh, trust me. HE is complicated. But He calls us to the simple. Don't believe me? Well, think about it for a second. When was the last time you remember God giving somebody a complicated assignment in the bible? (Remember, I did not say "hard." I said, "complicated." Big difference.)

God told Adam and Eve to enjoy the garden and everything in it except for this one tree. Under no circumstance were they to eat from it. Are those directions complicated? No. Are they simple? Yes. Still, they could not manage it and they succumbed to the temptation of the yummy looking tree.

Abraham was told to sacrifice his only son on an altar with a knife. Unimaginably difficult? Yes. Complicated? No. The direction was simple.

Noah was told to make an ark. Moses was told to talk to the Pharaoh. Jonah was told to preach in Nineveh. Nehemiah was told to build a wall. The disciples were told to "follow me." Paul was told to tell the gentiles. Anything complicated about any of that? (Grant it, I could not build an ark but Noah was given specific instructions and evidently he had some carpentry skills.) All of those things were difficult. None of those things were complicated.

Jesus was told to go to the cross. Difficult? You betcha. Complicated. Not at all.

So why do I keep falling for the lie that it is different for me? Why do I convince myself that it is so stinken hard to get past the barriers that keep me from knowing what God wants me to do? Do you notice anybody in the bible begging and pleading for God to reveal His will to them and God bobbing and weaving in order to keep them guessing? Uhhhhh. I cannot think of any. Correct me if I am missing something but it seems to me that the problem was in the obeying not the knowing. Is it not true that when God does not reveal anything new to you it means you should either keep doing what He last told you to do ... or simply wait on Him? You might reference Paul again on that. After God knocked him off of his horse on the way to Damascus he was told to go on into town and ... wait. Jesus told His disciples many times that He was going to be killed but that He would be back and they should ... wait. I can picture Paul between holy assignments working at his day job making tents. That part does not get much press in the bible but it is clearly what he did.

Every morning I get up and I think about my day. I do not consciously say, "Hey, I think I will beat myself up today. I think I will worry so much about missing my next God assignment that I will lose my appetite, work my way through a bottle of Tylenol and pay a Christian counselor to help me figure it out." And yet those are exactly the kind of things I have done. Over and over, ad nauseaum.

Then The Whisper comes. You know what? In the entire reality of my life only one-person whispers to me. The Holy Spirit. Everybody else has a volume button and knows how to use it. And the enemy? He shouts. He yells. He screams warnings that I am going to screw up and miss God entirely.

Then The Whisper comes. I only hear it when I have cultivated a quiet inner heart. I have to learn and relearn to be still and trust. I have to put away the fear, the false fronts, and the disbelief. Those things all make my heart noisy. The noise always drowns out The Whisper.

Then The Whisper comes. The Whisper says, "It's alright." The Whisper says, "I've got you." The Whisper says, "You can rely on me." The Whisper says, "I love you." The Whisper says, "I've got your back." The Whisper says, "My yoke is easy." The Whisper says, "My burden is light." And then I realize I have not been listening to the right voice. Because I have been living complicated. I have forgotten about the simple. You know what is amazing? When I hear The Whisper all I have to do is take a deep breath, listen, and obey the simplicity of His Voice. And the moment that I do I find myself right back on track as though I had never stepped off of it.

You know what I love the best? I love it when I hear The Whisper say, "Follow Me." I have no earthly idea where we are going. But I know it is going to be one amazing ride.

The Stupid Pictures Chronicles #8

How can this not be at least a 4 of the Flash-O-Meter????

I saw this sign tonight while riding "Ron-duh" the motorcycle. Am I the only one that sees a certain irony in it?

The Stupid Pictures Chronicles #7

Yes, indeed. A "5" on the Flash-O-Meter.

Stupid? This one is deliriously insane. A volcano blows up and you should "remain calm?" "Don't panic?" Don't "breath in" ash? Are you looking at that cloud? If it comes your way ... what ARE you supposed to breath?

The Stupid Pictures Chronicles #6

I am not sure what my current fasination with garbage is all about ...

From "Tom's Burned Down Cafe" on Madilyn Island in Lake Superior. I give it 2 flashes on the Flash-O-Meter.

Passing on the plaques ... Toppling all the trophies ...

I don't get it. This does not add up to me. I've tried to figure it out but all of the answers I come up with seem to fall short. I began working at a friends sign shop this past week. They make signs. That's why it is called a sign shop. They also make trophies, plaques, and all kinds of engraved stuff. I don't make any of it. My job is to invoice everything that gets sold, make certain the buyer knows it is done and ready for pick-up and to run the counter. It's kind of cool to be the guy out front. I guess I am a people person because I enjoy it. I'm only going to do it for a while. I have another opportunity in the works that I would like better but both jobs may be about to get over turned by a church I am talking to. That's my goal, dream, and calling.

I'll keep you posted.

But for now I've been working in this sign shop for a whole week. Already I have this question bugging me. The question is simply this...

Why?

Why do we human beings seem so driven to honor ourselves? It is mind boggling to read some of the engraved plaques that make their way through the production of this particular store. People get honored for shooting an arrow really well with a bow. Now I am sure this is a difficult feat but come on. A plaque because you can point straight? A trophy because you can pull back a string really far? A ginormous clear acrylic trophy for a guy who worked with kids in a church for a few years? We are talking nearly a hundred bucks here. That is probably bigger than the monthly budget of most youth ministries. And how about the literally hundreds of trophies that go out to kids baseball teams this time of the summer. I think every kid who owns a mitt or a bat gets a trophy.

Isn't this just a little bit over-kill? I could go on but I think you get the idea.

It seems to me that as believers we have something more than a trophy or a plaque at stake. I mean, puh-lease do not ever give me something like that for obeying God. Don't rob me of what I am really after. Trophies tarnish and plaques fade. I am more convinced than ever that I am living for two simple words.

"Well done."

And those words ... they only count if they come from Jesus. The last few years of life have been hard. Really hard. I never anticipated or expected them to be what they have been. The most wonderful mistake I have ever made was when I began praying, "God, do whatever you want to do to make me the man You want me to be." I prayed that fearlessly. I prayed it daily. I prayed it with my whole heart. I prayed it with all of the good intent in the world. And God heard me. And He said ... "Ok." That is when the walls began shaking, the floor began to crack beneath my feet, and the ceiling caved in on my head. I do not know how it all turns out because the after shocks have not subsided as of yet. And yet I have absolutely no doubt that all of the pain and weirdness I have dealt with has been a part of God's response to my simple request.

Growth requires pain.

But please ... no trophies. No plaques. No ribbons. I am going for it all. I refuse to stop now. I plan on following Him wherever He leads on this path. I will not stop until I get it.

I want the "Well done."

The Stupid Pictures Chronicles #5

Ok, this one is almost not funny because my brother-in-law can buy his own stinken bike! (Totally faking the anger.) This one gets a mere 2 in today's Flash-O-Meter. (Taken somewhere in Duluth, Mn. Not sure where...)

The Stupid Pictures Chronicles #4

Fresh from the camera. I found this on a garbage truck today. The driver even stopped so I could take the shot. Yup ... it's a 5 on the good old Flash-O-Meter!

The Stupid Pictures Chronicles #3

Given the obvious way they plan on filling this kiddie pool, please tell me ... do you put the kid in before or after you start the water?

Definately a 4 out of 5 on today's stupid chart on the "Flash-O-Meter!"

The Stupid Pictures Chronicles #2

Coming in at a solid 3 on the "Flash-O-Meter" ...

What can I say?

Topher

I miss him. He occupies the southeast corner of our home and a ton of his stuff is still in there. I go in and walk around every now and then. It is really odd but ... I feel him there. He's got this huge queen sized water bed, a desk, and a dresser covered with things that are his. His poster's are on the wall. (Not to mention a picture that used to belong to his grandfather. You have to see it and know the family story to understand. But it was a major coup for Topher to score it.) Actually, to walk into the room is to pretty much know that it is owned and operated by an early twenty-something young man. It's just got the feel.

Christopher is simply called "Topher" these days. It's a name he grabbed at Centrifuge (the summer camp for teens he works at... some guys drink their summer away... Topher teaches teens about the amazing love of God for eight weeks at camp) last year and it's stuck. Some simply call him "Toph." But whatever you call him he is my son and I miss him. He passed through here a week ago after an absence of thirty-nine days. (Yes, I count them.) Now he's been gone for six days and will be back in seventeen. When you are a dad you know these things. I didn't get to spend enough time with him when he was here. I was gone for part of the week with Scott on our previously blogged "Great Baseball Extravaganza." The only bad thing about that trip was that it kept me from being here when Topher got back. And then he had friends to see and a very, very special young lady to hang-out with. So we kind of crossed paths a few times, I got a few of those manly hugs in, and then he was back on the road again. I feel like I kind of missed him. And now I do. Miss him.

There are a lot of amazing things about Topher but my favorite one is that he is what he is. There is not an ounce of pretense in him. He is an extremely good looking young man ... that consistently wears one of the oddest hats that I've seen. I mean, it's not got horns or pig tails or anything. It's just this knit hat with a baseball style bill on it. But it's knit. And it's summer. And he's been wearing it for well over a year (though I think he takes it off to sleep.) And you know what? I LIKE IT ON HIM.
I heard the funniest story about that hat tonight. There were about ten of us eating fast food Mexican style and looking at pictures from Scott and Amanda's wedding. Topher came out looking great. I mean like ... really good. Like he cleaned-up in an amazing way. And then somebody mentioned that he had worn the hat all day ... the day of his brothers wedding ... and pulled it off when it was tux time, ran his fingers through his hair and said, "Well, I guess it will have to do." And in the pictures he looks like he spent fifty bucks for a haircut!

That's the way it is with Topher. He is real. And I love that. I do not think he reads my blogs and that's ok. But if he did he would learn something. I hope he already knows it. He is one of my favorite people walking the planet. I love him. He is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased.

And I miss him.

The Stupid Pictures Chronicles #1

I noticed that I have accidently compiled a collection of stupid pictures that I have taken over recent years. I have been wasting them by allowing them to remain hidden from the world. Well, no longer. For tonight we begin a new bi-occasional series ... "THE STUPID PICTURE CHRONICLES!"

And now our first entry ...

Tonight's entry is a photo of probably the dumbest sign I have ever seen. I took it in a parking garage at Pike Place Market in Seattle. I rate it at "5 flashes" on my own personal "flash-O-Meter." (Out of a 1 - not so dumb to 5 - totally stupid - scale.)

Waiting For Mornings Light

When I was a very small child the dark nights sometimes scared me. One of my most vivid memories of early childhood years in Detroit was lying in bed wide-awake, having been roused from the innocent sleep of a child in the middle of the night. The shadow's cast by the moonlight did not bother me. I was comforted if there was a light on down the hall indicating the presence of my parents. No, I was only afraid on the very dark nights when all I could see was darkness compounded by silence. Had my parents left? Were they asleep in their bed or was I alone in the house? There was only one way to know for sure. I clearly remember calling out into the void for my mother ... hoping to hear her comforting voice calling from the far side of my fear. I have no memory of a night when she did not respond. There was no need for her to come to my room. The simple sound of her voice was enough. She would assure me that all was well, that she and my father were there. This alone was enough to relax a little body and allow it to drift back into the dreams of baseballs soaring over walls and footballs being thrown downfield.

I have not changed all that much.

Live long enough and you will learn that a walk with God produces seasons of great conversation with The Holy Spirit as well as times of dreadful silence. As a child the darkness of night deepened the silence. I have found the reverse to be true in my relationship to my Heavenly Father. It is the silence of His Voice that deepens the darkness of an evil world.

I spoke to God about that today. I was driving through the suburbs of Chicago delivering a load of "life stuff" to my son and daughter-in-law. They are still off honeymooning and so I had to make a brief stop at Willow Creek to get a key to his condo from a friend. As I drove I complained. I told God that I was tired of His silence. I admitted that I had wanted to tell Him that for a long time but I was hiding the truth behind pseudo respect and trust.

Always tell God the truth. Always. He already knows. Why waste time pretending that He does not? If it is true that demon's die in the light ... and it is ... then go ahead and shed light on the ugly truth and let God kill it off. That lesson learned has not come as easily as it might sound when reduced to five sentences. Spiritual warfare is brutal.

So I was finally getting up the courage to tell God the truth. I am mad at Him. This is a unique and awkward time in my life and I would really appreciate it if He would pay closer attention and maybe throw a "bone" of advice my way every now and then. That may be a flippant way to speak to the great "I Am" but it is pretty much how the conversation went. I dumped on Him for the better part of an hour before arriving at Willow.

My heart hurts. I want to serve. I want to obey God. I want the trenches that I spill blood in to matter. I want to win more people to Christ and baptize more people into the family. That is what my life is about. In the last months I have turned down the opportunity to serve at four churches. I did not find God calling me to any of them. It has been a long decade so far and have needed the rest but it seems that (get this...) "rest" is making me "restless." Go figure. As I entered the church the first thing I saw was a booth set up for "Pastoral Care and Counseling." It was empty. "Why are places like this always empty when I need them not to be, God?" No answer.

I found my friend and got the key. Next I made my way upstairs to "Seeds Bookstore." I quickly came across a book about spiritual and emotional healing. $14.99 will buy you the formula. I was about to put it back when a sales person asked me if I was ready to check out. I had only been in the store for less than five minutes. Still, I really needed to get to Scott's and with a little effort I just might beat the worst of rush hour. I bought it and complained to God as I did. If He would just speak I would not need a book.

I turned the corner to walk through a reading area filled with shelves of books, tables and cushy chairs. As I did I breathed a prayer of desperation. "God, I really need to dump this stuff and if you want me to talk to somebody you are going to have to put them in front of me because I just cannot see them." I walked across the mini-library. A person sat on the far end with an open laptop and notebooks. I did not pay much attention. The person looked up as I rounded that corner uttering that prayer in my ice cold heart. Oddly, I had turned down the offer of a bag to put my book in and I carried it in my right hand. That is the hand on the side about to pass by the person ahead of me. As I neared the table the person looked up again.

"A new book?" The stranger spoke.

I lifted it up showing the cover. We began a conversation about books on spiritual and emotional healing. The person began to tell the story of the past years. It seems that my new friend had left Willow Creek not too long ago at the direction of God to serve in a church in Nashville. In this one person I was talking to the former head of greeters at Willow Creek, an author, a public speaker, a parent, a person suffering from a destroyed marriage, a two-time cancer survivor and the product of a horribly dysfunctional family. I stood and listened as the story poured out. After half an hour or so I took a seat on a nearby sofa, realizing that something unique was happening here. I was not relaxed. I was not all together comfortable. Yet I sensed a holiness on the horizon.

I do not remember the conversation word for word but my new friend asked me how I had been wounded. I told my story. It hurt to speak it. It felt wonderful to speak it. I felt weak. I felt energized. I know, I know, it makes no sense. I am just telling you what happened to me today. I wanted to cry. I could not. I never do.

I really do not know but I think we talked for nearly two hours. This person read me as though I was a children's book. I would present a dilemma and would receive an immediate smile and help in knowing how to handle the issues. Please understand that I have spent hundreds of dollars in the last years seeking the wisdom of Christian Counselors. They have all been great. They have all helped. But this person told me more than what was right or wrong. This person told me how to change.

After a long while an old friend of my conversation partner came and they greeted each other with hugs and back pats. My friend had come to Willow today to meet with another person, a friend who had gotten sick and had not been able to make their meeting. That is why the laptop and notebooks were open. Time was being killed until another meeting later in the evening.

I interrupted long enough to say, "Thank you so very, very much." Then the strangest thing happened. My friend said, "when I saw you come around the corner from the bookstore God told me to speak to you. I went back to my work and when you came near God told me again to speak to you. When I saw the book you were going to read, (the one I had just refused the bag for,) I just had to obey. I know about hurting, anger, and healing." I then told of how I had rounded that same corner asking God to please put someone in front of me if He wants me to talk. I don't cry. I didn't cry. But my eyes got very moist and my voice cracked as I told my side of the experience. My friend did cry.

The same corner. The same moment. The same God.

For a couple of hours today I was a child again. I called out into a dark night in hopes of hearing a parent’s voice. And my Father answered. I still have questions. I am still in the middle of a battle that I thought would be over long ago. But tonight I have what I needed the most. Father is home. He loves me. He remembers me. He is here ... no matter where "here" is.

And that will be enough until morning’s light.

Isaiah Knew The Truth

"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
Isaiah 41: 10

I like it when God makes me promises. Because He never breaks them. He never calls a "time out" or a rain delay. If God says it is so then write it in ink. Chisel it in stone. It is going to happen. I wish I were that dependable. That faithful. I fear that I am a bit more wishy-washy than that.

Shaddup. So are you.

God says, "Fear not, for I am with you..." I cannot think of a better reason than that to drop my fear right where I stand. Who's the biggest guy on the universal block? I'm thinking that is my God. So let the sweat stop here.

God says, "... be not dismayed, for I am your God..." Say what? You ever had a bully pick on you? I have. The guy two doors down from me when I was a kid thought he was a one man gang. Eventually you either fought him or he owned you. I fought him. I left with a bloody nose but he never bothered me again. It would have been MUCH better had a bigger guy stuck up for me. When you are the little guy in a fight you get creative and you scrap like a tiger or you get creamed. I don't like getting creamed. But if I had a bigger friend than the bully, well, he never would have picked on me. God says I have a bigger friend than the bully. He is my God and He gives me permission to not be dismayed. In other words, no distress. And you know what I say to that? SWEET! No more bullies.

God says, ..."I will strengthen you, I will help you ..." So not only will God protect me but He will become my personal trainer. The closest thing I have ever had to a personal trainer was a sadistic gym coach in high school. God is not sadistic. He knows how to give us strength that will take us home safely. I like the thought of that.

God says, "...I will uphold you with My rightous right hand." Friend, you don't have to fall over any more. When God says He will hold you up He means all the way up. He means that if you take His training advice you will not fall to the bully anymore.

Lot's of bullys in the hood. My hood. Your hood. You want to bow to them, you go right ahead. As for me, I am with Isaiah. I'm holding His Hand.

Ron ... OUT!

Burning Bridges ...

What good is a 6th of July wedding without walking through an arch of sparklers on a stone bridge as you leave for your honeymoon?

Phantom Vibrations of the Soul

You got a cell phone? You keep it in your pocket? You keep it on vibrate? If you answered, "yes" to all three of these questions you surely know what I am about to talk about.

Phantom vibrations. They drive me crazy. I keep my phone in my right pocket. It is always on vibrate even when the sound is on. That's 'cause when I am driving in my car I like the music loud, causing me to fail to hear the phones ringing tunes or clanging bells. You don't have to hear vibrations. And admit it, when something vibrates against you it gets your attention. The "vibrate mode" is a brilliant addition to the cell phone.

But there is a problem. Sometimes you feel it vibrating and it isn't. I mean, your leg tells you it is vibrating but when you reach for it ... nothing. No ring. No vibration. No phone call. I have mentioned this phone-nomena (I just made that up and it totally kills me...) to quite a few friends and every one of them knew precisely what I was talking about. I don't understand it. It's like you leg just decides to trick you. To make you think your phone is vibrating when it is not.

Why would my leg do that? Clueless here. Answers will be considered. Just leave them in the comment box at the end of this blog.

I had one of those experiences today. I was lying across my bed talking to God. Yes, I talk to God. Get over it. He answers when He wants to and He is quite when He doesn't want to. But I was talking to God about some things that are on my mind and I have a phantom vibration.

First it annoyed me. It distracted me from God.

Then it opened my eyes. It told me that just maybe God was teaching me something through phantom vibrations.

Sometimes it occurs to me that God wants me to do something and I do it and when I am done I feel His pleasure. That's a cool thing. And sometimes it occurs to me that God wants me to do something and I do it and when I am done I realize that it was not God at all. It was just me.

It was a phantom vibration of the soul.

There are times in life when God speaks often from His Spirit to mine. And there are times when He is very, very quiet. I rather like it when He speaks. Right now I am deeply into a period where He is quiet. And so I am listening all the more closely. He has my complete attention ... and yet He does not seem to want it. Now I am no rookie to this Christian thing. I know a lie when I hear it. And it is a lie to believe that God does not want my attention. Just because He is not speaking or I am not hearing does not mean that He wants me to turn my back on Him. No, it means He is teaching me. Through the silence. Often it seems that His silence comes when I most need His voice. I know that there is a reason for that. I have no idea what it is. I just trust that He knows what He is doing. Hey, He is God. If He is not in control ... Houston, we have a problem. And if I am going to trust Him I am going to do it every day and every moment ... unless I get careless and blow it. I have been known to do that.

Phantom vibrations of the soul are dangerous things. When I think God is "calling" me and directing me and He is not ... I can do some really strange stuff and get into some deep trouble. Fortunately, He seems to honor a trusting and seeking heart. He has never let me crash into the rocks yet. I doubt that He starts now. So I am listening. Sitting quietly and listening. He will speak when He is ready. And when He does I will have my ears turned and tuned in His direction. It is all I can do. That and wait. And time? Time I have. Nothing but time. But time is something that He made. And He can use it as He pleases.

I love God. I really, really do. I've got my hand on my "phone." I wish He would call...

A Wedding To Remember

Alas, it is done. The two are now one and at this hour should be winging their way to the left coast. I am much too foggy today to write but I thought you might enjoy a picture I captured of the very in love couple during their first dance. It was just taken on my Treo so go easy on me...

Scott and Amanda, sitting in a tree ...

Today is the day. The day of great anticipation. At 6:30 this evening I will conduct the wedding ceremony for my oldest son, Scott and his lovely fiancé. I have done many, many weddings over the years. Only one other can compare in stature to this one. That was the day I gave my daughter to her knight in shining armor, Joe. It was a good move on her part. Not a bad one on his either. (And it resulted in the production of the all-impressive Elle, the world’s greatest granddaughter.) The vow that Scott is taking tonight is just as good. Just as wise. His almost bride, Amanda, is one incredible young woman. She is totally worthy of his hand. She is one of my favorite people.

The feelings a parent goes through on a day like this are so mixed that they defy my clumsy attempts to make words obey my emotions and explain themselves. I really disappoint myself in that. I desire to host nothing in the way of a pensive heart or so much as a backward glace at the years gone by. I want each of my kids to marry God's intended mate. Looks to me like one has done it, one is about to do it, and one is most certainly on the right track to do so in the future. (Just my opinion, which, by the way means absolutely nothing.)

Amanda has always been an amazing young woman in my eyes. I tease her that the first time I saw her she was upside down. And that is true. She was in a musical production. As the lights went up the first thing seen on the stage was a flood of young people with Amanda running out and doing a perfect back-flip and not missing a step as she continued on to her assigned place. I was rather taken aback. I was equally taken aback when Scott began dating her because I learned that she is as talented and intelligent as she is beautiful. I cringed with all parents when she became the captain of the cheerleading squad at her university and because she was the only one willing to "fly." You know what that means. They launched her in all sorts of convoluted directions in hopes that things would go well and the right people would be in the right spot to catch her. Over the four years of her college career I think her catchers were 100% successful. I'm really glad about that. So is Scott. I am certain that none of us are more pleased than Amanda.

This wedding has my approval X 1,000,000. It is a match made in heaven. I am used to Scott's room being empty as he moved to Chicago over a year ago. And yet there is something so definitive about saying the big "I Do." And definitive is exactly what it should be. It is meant to last until death do they part. I plan on parting long before either of them.

And so here is my cyber-toast to the young couple. The catch in my throat and the moisture in my eyes ... don't pay any attention to them. It is joy. Pure joy.

Scott and Amanda ... the greatest dream you have dreamed, the day you have longed for, the moment that always seemed just out of your grasp ... it is here! Walk to that altar with purpose and exuberance. Hold the hand of your beloved with intent and passion. Repeat your vows while contemplating their deepest meaning. And when I say, "you may kiss your bride..." Scott, kiss her like she has never been kissed before! Because the greatest days of your lives begin today. Savor every second. Memorize each moment. Drink it in like a thirst-maddened couple that has stumbled into the purest of oasis. Squeeze every moment until the last drop of bliss saturates your heart with the bold love of youth.

I know that I speak for all of your parents when I say that we love you. But I want to say it this way as well ... I love you. Both of you. And I want to tell you that in each other you are about to find out what God meant when He said ... "...and it is good."