Reflections on 9-11

I walked the perimeter of "Ground Zero" for the first time last July. Today it is a busy city construction site. Buses, taxicabs, pedestrians and pigeons surround it. The sounds are those of city life. If you were not aware, not looking for indications, you would never know that six years ago today it was hell.

It was late on a Saturday afternoon and my son and I sat at a table outside a pizza place and stared at the hole across the street. I found myself so busy looking down that I almost forgot to look up. When I did ... the pizza lost its flavor. The sky was blue and the breeze was cool, much like the 9-11 of six years ago. And without expecting to I could see horrors unfold in my mind. Proud skyscrapers, a testament to the tireless men who built them. Racing jets, mere yards from a doom that nobody expected or imagined. Vast fiery infernos, fuel mixed with every imaginable item. Ball point pens and body parts. The shower of papers floating to the ground like so much snow in mid-January. The hollow, nauseating "thud" that kept a sickening cadence as over 200 bodies chose to crash into the sidewalk rather than burn to death.

What did it look like on September 11, 2001 to sit in the seat where I was eating my pizza? Was anybody sitting there? Did he or she live? Is their story being told today?

The next morning I found myself walking down a railroad track in New Jersey with a 19 year old young man. It is not important how this midwesterner came to be in that place with a Puerto Rican immigrant teenager. We had been sitting on a platform of the light rail system when we realized that no trains were stopping. Closer inspection showed that it was closed for repairs on that day. And so that young man chose to help this lost stranger walk the tracks to the next station so that I could catch up with my own son and we could make it to a Yankee's game on time. What is important is the story he told me as we walked. This young man had only been to "The City" twice in his life. His momma will not let him cross the Hudson River into Manhattan alone and he has chosen to obey her. Everyday he looks across the river at the largest city in America and he does not go there because he respects his mother. Is this not a part of a fading Americana that we all miss? I asked him what 9-11 was like for him. He became quiet and we walked many yards before he replied. He had been in school as a 13-year-old junior higher. Suddenly the teachers dismissed the students. He was not told why. He and his friends were just sent home. As they rounded a corner on their short walk home a smoke shrouded city skyline came into view. They could only see one tower due to the smoke from the first explosion. As these junior high school kids stood along their river, looking at their city they saw another jet fly directly into the second tower. The young man grew quiet again. Then he told me that it did not look like it did on TV. They saw it. Then they heard it. Then they felt it. He said that upon the impact of the jet they watched steel girders shoot out the other side like airborne toothpicks pushed from their places by the explosion that took hundreds of lives as they stood and watched. I asked him if the memory has faded since that day. He said that it has not. He said that he does not expect that it ever will. Moments later we were on a train and got separated by the crowd, he on his way to work and me on my way to a ballgame.

I understand anger. I understand fury. But hatred? Hatred at this level eludes me. I do not want to be capable of it. And then I think of that sidewalk that once ran deep with blood and ash. I think of that boy who should have been studying math but was forced to watch the subtraction of human lives. I think of how it will shape his future and I am afraid that I begin to perhaps comprehend in a very, very minute way what hatred feels like. I give regularly to the poor, I swerve to avoid squirrels on the street, and I have volunteered in soup kitchens and homeless shelters. That is what humans are supposed to do. Yet I confess that if I found myself in the mountains of Pakistan or Afghanistan and I came across a certain bearded individual I would neither hesitate nor lose sleep over pulling a trigger.

And I really do not like that in me.

New News (as opposed to old news)

Well, this is an unusual blog entry. It is not intended to entertain, teach, stir your brain cells or anything like that. It is purely informational. Forgive me for stepping outside my norm. But here goes ...

On Sunday, October 14 Debbie and I will be at the First Baptist Church of Sheffield Lake, Ohio where I will be speaking in the morning service. That evening there will be a church-wide meal and then an open forum question and answer time during which the church will be able to ask me any question they like. I, in turn, will be able to pretend that I have all of the answers. They will be taking one week to pray, seeking the will of God, before voting on whether or not to call me as their Sr. Pastor on October 21st.

Sheffield Lake is a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio. It is approximately 25 miles from downtown Cleveland and is situated on the shores of Lake Erie. The church has been averaging around 150ish during the summer months, give or take. They are debt free and own two buildings that, honestly, need some work. After many phone conversations with their pastoral search committee and spending last weekend with them I believe that they are a church that desires to seek and follow the will of God, regardless of the cost. They are flawed but so am I. (I know that is hard for you to believe but really, I am. Ask Debbie. No... don't.) I am grateful that they are willing to spend a week between my time with them and their vote as they commit themselves to prayer over the matter. There are only a couple of protestant churches in Sheffield Lake, FBC being the largest. The area is heavily Catholic. The opportunity for evangelical ministries to serve the community are limitless.

Obviously we are grateful for your faithful care, prayers, and support. I will do my best to keep you updated on any prayer requests as they arise. It has been an interesting year. I am sure the next month or so will be even more so. While Debbie and I do believe that this move is God's direction for our lives we realize that we are leaving family and dear friends. That's pretty stinky. In addition, if God puts this together, I will probably be spending the majority of the winter in the frozen tundra without her as she impatiently waits for our house to sell. Ahhh... the joys of home ownership.

Anyway, that's what's going on within the confines of our lives. This is not confidential information and you may feel free share it or to call the National Enquirer with the information if wish. I expect fifty cents from every dollar you make from the proceeds.

Seriously ... this is huge for us. Happy. Sad. Joyful. Sobering. Pick an emotion and it's there. But overall we are grateful to God for choosing to use us at His discretion.

Thanks for caring and loving us...
Ron & Debbie

Oowie

i am "hunt and peck" typing. got a problem. was subbing in a jr high p.e. class this morning. flag football. 1st period i was talking to a girl on the field before the game. i saw movement ouy of the corner of my eye, looked over and the football was flying toward her head. jr, high heads are empty so i should have let it go. but noooooo. i lunged in and batted the ball away. now fingers go in strange directions. cant type. fingers taped. not good. obviously i am her hero. right? not so much. NO THANKS NECESSARY, EMILY. I'M FINE. DON'T GIVE IT ANOTHER THOUGHT.

so. brief blogging sabbitical is in order. miss me. check back in a couple of days. pass thy tylenol...

A Labor Day Treat

Enjoy...

The View From The Web

Don't think I haven't been trying because I have. I am well aware that I have not blogged ... seriously written anything worth reading ... in a few weeks. It is not for having failed to sit in this place late at night pounding the keyboard. The simple truth is that life is becoming complicated and I'm limited on how much I can say about the "whys" and "wherefores." I am almost as limited on the "what I know's."

Did you read about the massive spider web found in Texas this week? If you missed it, here is what www.foxnews.com had to say...

"WILLS POINT, Texas — Entomologists are debating the origin and rarity of a sprawling spider web that blankets several trees, shrubs and the ground along a 200-yard stretch of trail in a North Texas park.

Officials at Lake Tawakoni State Park say the massive mosquito trap is a big attraction for some visitors, while others won't go anywhere near it.

"At first, it was so white it looked like fairyland," said Donna Garde, superintendent of the park about 45 miles east of Dallas. "Now it's filled with so many mosquitoes that it's turned a little brown. There are times you can literally hear the screech of millions of mosquitoes caught in those webs."

Spider experts say the web may have been constructed by social cobweb spiders, which work together, or could be the result of a mass dispersal in which the arachnids spin webs to spread out from one another."

I am trying to decide whether I feel like the spider or the mosquitoes.

This coming Friday I will be flying off to a far away city to meet with a pastor search committee, a finance committee, a staff, a real estate agent, and then speak to a local "neutral" church. If all goes well and we sense that God's Hand is in it then I will return in a couple of weeks to meet with the entire church, speak to them, and we'll decide whether or not it becomes official. (But not before I fly off to Dallas to perform the wedding of a precious friend and the daughter of one of my best buddies.) If it does ... I'll be leaving my bride, my home, my family, and pretty much everything except Bailey the Killer Beagle (because she already left me. She's a run-away.) I would be living there alone until the house here sells, etc., etc., etc. I don't mind the alone part. I mind the not knowing part. I want to be the spider. I want to chart the course. I want to weave the tapestry. I want to set the trap.

But I am not the spider. I am the mosquito. Let there be no doubt about it. I have been caught in God's web. I do not call the shots on any of this. The church sets up the details, and rightly so. God makes the decisions, and VERY rightly so. I simply do my best to follow His string and obey His directions. In the mean time my mind runs at about 120mph. What do I say to them when I speak? What points does God want me to make? How do I handle (insert any of about 50 things here.) And most importantly ... am I hearing God? Is my heart in tune with His? Is my spirit sensitive to the leading of His Spirit? These are difficult questions and if I mess them up ...

Well, I do not want to think about that.

I have never been to this city before. I do not know what it looks like from the air or from the ground. I can't tell you the name of the airport. I cannot tell you where a shopping mall is. I have no idea about the names of the local grocery stores. They have a baseball team, a football team, a basketball team and for all I know a water polo team. I do not know the name of the county the church is in. I only know the area code because they keep calling me (a fact that I am grateful for.) I know the time zone but it is not one I am used to.

I am the mosquito. I am caught in God's web. He wove it and flew me right into the heart of it. He has held me fast and I couldn't get away if I wanted to. Which I don't. I often find my head spinning as I examine the possibilities and probabilities. It is hard to explain. I seem to be a person that has developed a penchant for "forgetfulness" of late. Ask my wife. (No, don't!) Ask my former boss, Patti. Ask my kids. And it frustrates me to death. I do not know how to say it ... the phraseology fails me. But life has thrown so many curve balls my way over the last few years that I have almost lost track on what is worth paying attention to and what is not. And honestly, there are so many things that I thought were important five years ago that I realize now are a waste of time. I just tune them out. Unfortunately, I also tend to tune out the person talking about them. That causes pain and strained relationships. It also makes me feel quite stupid. But my brain is not cooperating. It keeps running ahead to the next problem .... the next issue. I spent four years living in constant "crises mode" and, while I have gotten rid of that original crisis, I have learned, regretfully, to replace one crisis with the next. And so I try to pay attention to so many things that I wind up being unsuccessful at paying attention to anything at all.

And then God brings a 200-foot spider web to my attention and I remember that I am merely the mosquito. But the analogy takes an odd twist here. God's web is one that you want to be caught in. You would be crazy to fly around it. It is in the web of God that you find peace, security, fulfillment, safety, and dozens of other positive attributes. I am grateful for His web. I just wish I could remember to stop struggling against it and let Him do His work in me.

The Stupid Picture Chronicles #13

Well, I think I know what their intent was when they wrote this sign but ... come on.

This was on the trash can in the sound both at our church. I was SO TEMPTED after the service to grab some of their garbage and sprint out the door.

The Seinfeld of Blogs

This is the Seinfield of blogs. It is about nothing.

I suppose that some days are just meant to be "nothing days." This was one. I am trying to think of something ... anything ... that I did today that had any sort of real consequence. Eternal or otherwise. And I am not coming up with much.

Is that ok?

I am all for "the purpose driven life." I buy in to the entire idea that life is not about me. It is about God. It is about knowing Him, loving Him, serving Him. He is the focus and the reason. I live for Him.

This is going to be boring but here it is ...

Today I woke up. I sat for a bit. I showered. I sat for a bit. I ate tuna. I sat for a bit. I went to the store for really unimportant reasons. I sat for a bit. I ate supper out with my wife. We walked through a couple of stores. Now I am at home and I am sitting for a bit.

If I had not lived today nothing would be any different in the world. I did not make anyone better off. I did not really make anyone smile or frown. I gave out no meaningful information. I learned virtually nothing new. And now the day is over and I do not even have anything to blog about. And so I am blogging about nothing. Because that was my day.

But I have this blank space on my screen and it seems like I should put some words on it. Why do I think that? Why do I think that a day that has been purposeless is of no value. That cannot be true. Is it? I should know. But I have forgotten. What would I tell someone else if they asked me if having a day like this was alright? I would say, "Certainly. It is called 'down time' and it is profitable simply because it is unprofitable." They would feel better about their day and I would feel better because I gave out meaningful advice and spiritual direction. But I guess that I do not really believe the advice I give sometimes or I would not be asking the question of myself.

Or ... or maybe I think to much.

So I think I will just sit for a bit.

Satan's Sebring

I think that if the devil owned a car it would be the one I drove last weekend. I had to go to Chicago for my nephews wedding and then to Steven's Point, Wisconsin to talk to a friend who wants to get married and wants me to be the officiating minister. (That sounds so much better than the preacher boy.) I noticed that I could rent a car for 50% off over the weekend and get unlimited miles. Well, my Mustang and my Explorer both get about 20mpg on the highway. Not good. So I trotted on over to the local car rental place of national repute and got it from my brother-in-law the car rental guy. Remember Herb Tarlik from WKRP in Cincinnati? He looks just like him. Actually, I think he IS him. Look up and you be the judge. Anyway ...

She was a real beauty. A nice burgundy with a black convertible top. And she got a blessed 34mpg! Score! The gas savings paid for the car and I didn't have to put one mile on my own vehicles. Mission accomplished!

But then ... there were these situations. They make me ... wonder.

Debbie brought the car home on Friday night and parked it in my driveway. On Saturday morning we pulled our luggage outside and the car windows were down and the headlights where on. Why? I don't know why. There was only one key and I had it. Sophie the GPS was stored in the console and she was still there. Nothing was taken or damaged. The windows just opened. And the headlights just turned on.

So we loaded up and began our drive. When we got to the hotel in Schaumburg I noticed that the doors on the car would not lock. The key fob wouldn't lock it. The button inside on the door wouldn't lock it. I could not push the button down or pull it up. This car had decided not to lock.

As a side note, I travel with everything I own of value. I had my Mac laptop Tess, my GPS Sophie, my Ipod ... remind me to name my Ipod... my Treo smart phone. Get the picture? And now my car will not lock. So I drug everything into the hotel. That was all well and good until Sunday morning when I drove Debbie to the airport for her flight home. I dropped her at the curb side check in and went back to the hotel (it was too early to drive far in a possessed car.) I showered, packed, checked-out and loaded the car again. In the rain. As a matter-of-fact the outdoor wedding was held indoors because of the rain. It began raining as we entered northern Illinois and it was still raining. It rained as I left the hotel. It rained as I stopped at the bookstore at Willow Creek. It rained as I got onto the toll way. It rained as I felt my ears go funny because of a sudden pressure change in the car. It rained as I noticed in the rear view mirror that my trunk was open.

My trunk. The protector of Tess, my nameless Ipod, my clothes, Debbie's clothes and perhaps worst of all ... my pillow. And the lid popped open at about 70mph. I pulled over onto the side of the toll way and jumped out into the driving rain. This was not just a driving rain because I was driving in it. It was driving at me too. We are talking about serious RAIN here. Rain that would have made Noah proud. And I got out into it and closed my trunk. It took about 15 SLAMS before it stayed closed. Why? I don't know. There was nothing in the way. And there was no way for me to have opened the trunk while I was driving if I had wanted to. Which, by the way, I didn't.

I got back into Satan's Sebring and prayed that the trunk would not pop open again. I could not leave my stuff in the car if I had to stop and go potty because the car would not lock. And I could not be certain the windows would stay up. And at any moment the trunk might open.

What to do, what to do?

Drive. Faster. Get there. Sooner. It was somewhere around Beloit, Wisconsin when I noticed the new light all gold and pretty, shining on my dashboard. It looked like this ... (!). That's it. An exclamation point in parenthesis. It was right below the "D" on the "P R N D" lights. At first I thought that meant I wasn't just in drive ... I was REALLY in drive. But that would be silly. So as I drove through the blinding rain I decided to get out the owners manual and look this new symbol up. I mean, come on. I could not see past the end of the hood anyway. I might as well read. Ok, it made sense at the time. The light went off. The light came on. The light went off. The light came on. This trend continued for the rest of the trip.

After a few minutes I found the symbol and discovered that it meant my car had some kind of tire monitoring device. It was checking my tires in relentless fashion. It was running checks on my rubber 24/7. While that is a pretty cool feature, what do you do if it lights up? I did what any self-respecting guy would do. I kept driving. And I prayed. And I called Herb. I mean I called my brother-in-law. I don't think he believed me. Actually, I don't think he was convinced until I returned to the Gateway City, to the home of unquenchable grass and crop thirst named St. Louis and he saw the door lock problem for himself. (Did you know that everything north of ... oh ... Bloomington, Illinois looks like the Garden of Eden? It's all green and growing and wet. And everything south of Bloomington looks like the moon with grass. Dead grass but still grass. They were wearing sweatshirts in Stevens Point. In Springfield they were wearing sweat.

Other than that the car was fine. Not really. You see I was really, really sleepy when I left Stevens Point. I stayed up way too late visiting with the daughter's of my friends and then I drove forever with the wipers on super high and I was leaning forward, squinting and trying to see between the raindrops. By the time I got to Rockford I was woozy. The air conditioner was on high and pointed directly at my face. The stereo was turned all of the way up. A voice in my head kept telling me to just go to sleep and let death come painlessly. Then I remembered that applied to victims of extreme cold and not to drivers doing 70 through a flood of biblical proportions. So I did the next best thing. I stopped at this place called "Beef-A-Roo." Yes, really. And I ordered up two Chicago hot dogs, a large fry and a large Coke to go. I got back in the car and navigated to the expressway where I put the steering wheel up as far as it would go, took off my tennis shoes and opened my first hot dog. It promptly exploded. Well, the hot dog didn't. The condiments did. Have you ever seen the neon green relish that goes on a loaded Chicago style dog? It's a thing of beauty. It is the best tasting pickle by-product ever. It is the gold standard of all things stored in vinegar. And I was wearing it. So was Satan's Sebring.

I returned the car later in the day. A small notation was made about the windows opening on their own, the phantom headlights, the unlockable doors and the levitating trunk lid. But I think they wrote a page and a half on the strange relish-like odor permeating the vehicle.

If they had only asked I would have told them.

See. I told you he looks like Herb Tarlik.

I Got Nothin...

... to complain about.

I do not know anybody trapped below ground or anybody who is dead because they tried to rescue somebody trapped under ground.

I am not in outer space on a vehicle that is going to re-enter the atmosphere soon with a "harmless" hole gouged in its underside.

I am not hungry.

I have friends who call me or e-mail me simply to say, "How are you?"

My house maintained a pleasant 72 while the outside thermometer's raged at 105 most of the week. This kept my asthmatic wife breathing which, in turn, kept my heart at peace.

I am not in a war zone.

My family is healthy, happy, employed, clean and each one likes all of the others.

Their are no hurricane's bearing down on my home.

I see no wild fires burning in my neighborhood.

What? I should complain? Why? Because everybody does? Because it gets attention? Because it is the new American way?

I think not...

Stupid Picture Chronicles #12

I am not really sure what to say about this. I came across this tombstone while driving through a cemetary. Ok, did I really need to say that? If it was not in a cemetery I would have a truly, truly stupid picture. But it's the angel. The angel on the tombstone bothers me. Is that celestial boredom I detect?

What? Is he tired of waiting for the resurrection? Is he disgusted with the way the deceased became ... deceased? What is the deal with a bored angel? (No disrespect to the dead intended. I'm only making fun of the marble angel.)

Not so long ago, at an intersection not so far away ...

For a brief few moments tonight ... I believed.

Debbie and I had been out all day and after we got home from the mall, a funeral home, a gas station, and a restaurant ... she asked me to go to the store. (Selah) There really is no point in debating whether or not to go because sleeping in "The Big Bed" is high on my list of priorities. The evening had cooled a bit and I opted for Ron-duh the Hon-duh instead of a car. I slapped the helmet on my head and roared off to Walgreens. After procuring the requested item I re-mounted Ron-duh, pulled out of the parking lot and stopped at the traffic light on the busy corner. The light was red and it just seemed like the right thing to do. There were not many cars out and I had the intersection to myself for a few moments.

Then I felt it. The hair on the back of my neck would have stood up if I had any. All I can say for sure is that I KNEW it was there. Above me. It is a clear but moonless night. I raised the clear face shield of my helmet and slowly looked up.

It was indeed there.

Do you remember the opening scene of the original Star Wars movie? I think it was the Millennium Falcon that was flying slowly over or under you as you sat in awe struck wonder. The sheer size of the massive space ship was an incredible start to the entire Star Wars series.

And that is pretty much what I saw. Hovering over me ... moving slowly from the northwest to the southeast was a ginormous gray ... something. It was not moving fast enough to be an airplane. No typical airplane could stay airborn at such a slow speed. In addition there were flashing lights, one on its left and one on its right. They flashed in sequence. I am telling you, the thing covered the entire sky. At least that is how it appeared from my perch on Ron-duhs leather seat.

I do not scare easily. I've been in nasty slums face to face with bad men who out numbered me. They threatened me with a tomahawk in my "little white forehead." No, I'm not kidding. Atlanta, late 1980's. I worked on the streets of the south side of Chicago during hot summers and frigid winters in my college days. But this ... this caused my mouth to drop open and my brain to shift into high gear.

Speaking of shifting, that is exactly what I did with Ron-duh. I kicked it into all 5 gears within 2 blocks until I was able to pull into the parking lot of Ace Hardware where I killed the engine, tore off my helmet and looked up to see ... the Met-Life blimp.

Drat. I had my camera with me and was SURE that the last shot of my life was going to be the one to get me on the cover of National Geographic and maybe even Scientific Quarterly. I had, after all, hard proof of intelligent life beyond planet earth. And in the end it was really the least intelligent life ON planet earth ... an insurance company.

Sometimes life does not produce what it promises. Sometimes it sets you up only to smack you down. Tonight I got smacked down. I did get my pictures. The first one turned out ... funky. I tried to take the picture of the IFO (Identified Flying Object) at 40mph by just pointing and clicking without even glancing at the viewfinder. Hey, it wasn't a picture worth dying for. I'm not sure how the weird lights came out like they did. I think I caught the reflection of the blimp off of a chain link fence around the adjoining airport. But the other picture was one I stopped and clicked-off with a little more planning.


Ok, it is not the Millennium Falcon. It isn't even a Cessna. But for one brief moment in time .... I sang "So Long and Thanks For All The Fish" and meant it. (If you have not watched "A Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy" you won't get that so don't bother....)

The Stupid Pictures Chronicles #11

I generally try to not include people in my stupid picture chronicles. Expecially people in my family. But I took this picture of my son Scott not too terribly long ago. And you know ... it just begs to be posted. So here you go.

Still, I'll only give it a 2 on the Flash-O-Meter. Sorry, Scott. Maybe if you had put a cherry on top?

Life Is An Off-Speed Pitch

Sometimes life throws all fastballs at you. That's when you dig in at the plate, take your swings, and cast a wishful eye toward the outfield fence. Sometimes it throws curve balls. When that happens you really don't know what to expect anymore. The "tried and true" morphs into the "gasping and guessing." I hate it when that happens. Sometimes a screwball gets mixed in and then you might just as well walk back to the dugout and take a seat.

But it is the off speed pitch that leaves me bewildered. You know how it goes. You get used to life's 99mph fastballs and suddenly one comes at you doing ... oh ... 55. Before the ball gets half way to the plate you've swung three times, taken a shower, gone out to lunch, and power napped. This has been an "Off Speed Pitch Week." Let me tell you why.

I have reconnected with a friend who spent six years in my youth group some time back. That means I was his youth pastor and he owes me big time. Anyway, he just graduated from law school, can't find a job, and turned down an opportunity to be an FBI agent. You know them. They are the guys with the truly big guns, the awesome ball caps, and permission to do just about anything they want to do whenever they want to do it. He e-mailed me to ask me to pray for him. Well, sure I will. But how do I pray? He's an unemployed lawyer. I never met one of those before. All you have to do is wait for an ambulance to drive by and then run after it. Right? And the feds offer him a badge and gun and he says, "No thank you." Be aware that if some one offers me a badge and gun I am going to do the happy dance and then clean-up dodge. That is only one reason why this offer will never happen. I would be positively dangerous. Mainly to myself.

My second freaky off-speed pitch came over the weekend when another one of my former teens from my youth ministry days dropped by to visit. Krista is cool. She is one of the famous (infamous?) "K" girls. Kelli, Krista, Kim, and Kristen were all buddies and since Kelli is my daughter they hung out at my house a lot some years back during high school. Krista married an Englishman and moved to jolly old ... someplace. She lives in Britain but I don't know where. So there I find her knocking on my door last Saturday night and I hug her and she starts talking ... foreign talk. She has a perfect British accent. What is with that? She's only been there a few years. I could not have been more surprised if she had sounded like Donald Duck. But no, she's Benny Hill in a dress. I found myself not hearing her words ... just listening to her accent. I wanted to ask her to read Shakespeare to me but I was afraid I would finally understand it. And that would ruin the entire experience.

Did I mention that my friend turned down the opportunity to wear a cool blue windbreaker with FBI written on it? I did? Oh. Sorry.

Sunday afternoon I was going to the Sprint store because my brand new Treo cell phone stopped working and that's not acceptable. I went to four ... count 'em ... FOUR stores before they managed to swallow their pride and swap it out for a new one. But that was not the off-speed pitch of the day. As I was leaving the parking lot I was the second car in line to make a left onto a busy highway. It's known as Clayton Road and you really have to look both ways like ten times before gathering up the courage to make a left. The car in front of me was breaking the worlds record in caution though. I figured it was some little lady who could barely see over the steering wheel because I could not see her over her seats headrest. I waited. I waited. I waited some more. Did I mention that I had been waiting for FOUR HOURS AT FOUR SPRINT STORES and my patience was running short. I almost honked my horn. (I don't do that much because people carry guns and I don't want to tick-off the wrong guy who just might be having a Vietnam flashback or something.) That's when I saw something that made SPRINT, THE COMPANY THAT WASTED FOUR HOURS OF MY SUNDAY AFTERNOON, look like it was staffed by all Jr. Einstein’s. A teenager girl walked out of a store, opened the drivers door of the car with the blinker on in front of me, got in, made a left and was ... gone. Ok, you have to admit that's a new one. Who parks their car in a turn lane with the blinker blinking its little guts out while they run into Starbucks NEXT DOOR TO THAT SLOOOOOW SPRINT STORE and grab a nice Latte? You see why we need more FBI agents? Who is going to stop the stupid people?

The final off-speed pitch (so far) occurred last night. My wife was driving in her Explorer. She was coming home from her brother's condo in St. Louis. It's only 25 miles. She has a GPS. She has a cell phone. She has a full tank of gas. The tires are good. The oil was just changed. What can go wrong? How about two idiot adult males that decide to harass her? They pulled up next to her and noticed that she's a total babe. Then they won't stop driving by her. She slows down so they can pass and they slow down. She speeds up and they speed up. Finally she opened her cell phone and they saw her, prompting them to pull in front of her. Now understand, my wife is brilliant. Really. She is. Except that she didn't DIAL her cell phone. There are numbers to dial on occasions like this. Number like ... oh ... 911? Instead she fakes them out by turning on her blinker so that it looks like she's exiting the expressway. The wise guys do the same thing. Remember, they are in front of her now. So as soon as it's too late for them to change their mind she hits the gas, swerves back to the left, and stays on the expressway. Two exits later she gets off and comes home where she tells me her story. What is a husband to do? Well this one called the non-emergency number of the Illinois State Police. I mean this is a no-brainer. My wife is home safely (thank you, God) but SOMEBODIES WIFE is still out there and these guys are dangerous. So naturally the State Police dispatch a car to check out that part of the highway. Oh wait. No they don't. They say it's her word against theirs. Of course, they didn't go looking for them so we really don't know what their word is. Did I mention that my wife got the make, color, and model of their pick-em-up truck as well as their license number? I told you she was brilliant. (She would have been staggeringly brilliant if she'd called 911.) The police said they had already had one call like that last night so see ... it happens all the time. Hmmmmm. Let me think about this. It had already happened once. And then it happened again. Is that what one might call ... A TREND? Might there be a 3rd attempt? This makes me angry. But I won't tell you how angry because, well, because they have guns.

If we only had more FBI agents this would not happen. (I hope you sleep well tonight, Bo. Geez, you even have a cool FBI sounding name, for crying out loud. What were you thinking?)

I hear that it reached 101 degrees today. I have a nice air conditioned Mustang I can drive to work. It's all emerald green with a 6 CD changer and really cool looking. I walked right by it and roared off on Ron-duh the motorcycle. Within minutes I was sitting on a 300-degree engine. Wearing a helmet. Maybe ... Just maybe I am the biggest off-speed pitch of all?

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.