59 - 14 ... we win!

I woke up this morning, shook the stupid out of my head (my way of saying "got rid of the cob webs") and logged on to check the weather. I had already glanced out the balcony door and saw what I expected. Clouds. (Somebody at church told me yesterday that they had checked and the last time Cleveland had 7 straight sunny days was 1993. True? Who would lie at church?) The lake was calm. But the WKYC web site told me that the temperature was 59. Then I slid over to the KSDK web site from St. Louis. I always check it in the morning and look at the arch web cam. I like to see the sun gleaming off of it. That's when I noticed that the temperature there was 14 and everybody had a snow day. No school.

What?

59 in Cleveland and 14 in St. Louis? And they had ice? We had mere rain? What's the deal with that?

Did I mention that the last time there was 7 consecutive days of sunshine in Cleveland was 1993? I did? Sorry. It's messing with my head.

Well, it's all begun to balance out. It's now 24 and there's light snow predicted for tomorrow. The lake is going crazy again. Nice. This is how it's suppose to be.

Here's my Top Ten Things About Cloudy Days In Cleveland ...

10 ...nothing
9 ... nothing
8 ... nothing
7 ... nothing
6 ... nothing
5 ... nothing
4 ... nothing
3 ... nothing
2 ... nothing
1 ... My sun glasses don't get dirty.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #29

"WEAR YOUR SEATBELT OR GET FLORIDA JAMMED THROUGH YOUR NECK!"

Okay, I confess. I stole this picture from a friends face book site. She was driving across Florida and came across it. I found it too good to pass up.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #28

I'm not entirely sure that this qualifies as a "stupid picture." Maybe it just qualifies as a "stupid slogan?"

Good News ... Bad News ... A Season of Paradox (Hint: God Wins!)

The economy stinks. It is the Christmas season. "The Big Three" automakers want to get bailed out financially. Santa Clause is coming to town. Soldiers are still in harms way in Iraq, Afghanistan, and who knows where else. The night ... it is silent. Somebody just got their throat slashed on one network. Billy Graham is speaking to me from the past on another reminding me about what is important. I have paid $4.29 per gallon and $1.49 per gallon for gas all in this calendar year. I just read about a guy who walked on water. The governor of the state I grew up in has been accused of trying to sell a senate seat. On some Sunday's empty seats are rather hard to find in my church. The police think they just found the tragic remains of a little girl who has been missing for a while. I sometimes feel lost but God promises me He's got His eye on me.

Our world has never been a place of greater paradox than it is right now. It seems as though everybody wants to be happy but we are afraid to be. Surely "the other shoe" is about to drop. And with it all of our hopes, dreams, aspirations, and yes, our joy, will be snuffed out with it. You feel it in your bones, don't you.

Can I just say one thing about that?

WRONG.

I cannot say it emphatically enough. WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! Yes, the world is in a mess. Does that really surprise anybody? No, we do not know what tomorrow's headlines will bring. But have we ever known?

No, we have not.

There is but one thing to rest on. Tie yourself off to. Invest yourself 100% in.

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life." I didn't say it. God did. And because He said it, because He acted on it, you and I can live with joy, confidence and well founded hope. IF ... and this is a very big "if" ... if you "know Him." If you trust Jesus with your life and your eternity.

He's bigger than the stock market. More dependable than a government bail-out. Longer lasting than any nuclear threat. You can count on Him.

I strongly suggest that you do!

Tis The Season

This mini-essay is a "thank you" to my brother-in-law and sister-in-law, Jim and Alisha. They were the brain children (though Alisha would emphasis that it was totally Jim) for the center piece of our Christmas decor this year.

It didn't seem wise to buy a Christmas tree, ornaments, lights, and such when we have all of those things in storage. We won't need two of everything next year. It also didn't seem appropriate (to me) not to have any visible way to acknowledge Christmas in our home. I do believe that my bride was just fine simply knowing that it is the Christmas season. I need something to look at.

So, while walking through our local Wal-Mart recently I made a spur of the moment decision. What I really mean is that I participated in the age old ritual of "impulse buying." No tree. No ornaments. No lights. None of those really help in celebrating the birth of Jesus anyway. And neither will my purchase. But it does make me smile. Thanks for the idea, Jim!

Only because Jen is a new friend and I don't want to hurt her feelings ... yet ...

Okay, I hate this kind of stuff. But I made a new blogger friend and she asked me to. So here goes. I've got nothing else to blog about today anyway. She's MAKING ME tell you 4 things about myself that nobody knows. Problem is, I've been around too long and I don't hide much. So it's a challenge ...

Uh...

Okay, I want to have a submarine. No, I don't just want to ride in a submarine. I want my own. And it has to be a really good one because I don't swim. But I think cruising the ocean, sneaking up on entire countries, would be an incredibly cool way to spend a year or so.

And, uh. Well. I hate stop lights with a blazing passion. I mean my tolerance level is zero. Z-E-R-O. I'll do nearly anything to eek through even on the slimmest margin of yellow. Oddly enough I have never once been stopped for this much less ticketed. Oh, I'll gladly cut through parking lots to avoid them too. But only when my wife isn't in the car.

I'm only on three? Sheesh. Let's see. I hate morning so badly that I have this black sort of mesh Nike t-shirt that I keep beside my bed. If I manage to wake up before the sun rises I throw it over my eyes so as to fool my brain into thinking that it's still dark after the day light. Yes, really. And it works. Don't you judge me...

And finally. I count things. Anything. For no reason. I don't know why. I just do. People. Cars. Days on the calender. I can't help it. Things need to be counted. Somebody has to keep track of things and so I just do it. But sixty seconds after counting something I couldn't tell you what the total was. Because the total doesn't matter. It only matters that they were counted.

Four. So there. Feel very honored, Jen.

Oh, drat. I've got a number 5. I cannot STAND the thought that I might have hurt some persons feelings. (That's why I'm dong this list thing in the first place ...) I have to find them and fix it NOW. Even if I'm innocent. Because, in my mind, I'm guilty until proven innocent!

This confession thing might get addicting...

A Guest Blogger ... My Niece Tanya

My niece wrote today in honor of my father. He would have been 89 years old today. I miss him more than I can say. But Tanya says it pretty well ...

I am thinking about my Grandpa today. I think about him allot, he is on my mind at the oddest times. When I am watching Foxnews and I wonder if I could have convinced him to watch it with me, probably not. He was a die hard democrat as far as I remember. I think of him when I see a large American flag and I remember how he loved to fly his flag in his front yard and he never let it get torn or worn out.
He loved the flag because it stood for what he was willing to die for. He was a true American hero. I wonder what he would have thought about 9-11? He probably would have had a few choice words to say.
He believed in God, family and our country. He loved to play with us grand kids. I remember playing chinese checkers with him when we would visit his house for the holidays. I loved going to my grandparents home while my parents went on youth trips, for 2 weeks during the summer. I remember Grandpa taking us fishing on his boat and the time he made me believe that I was steering it straight into the shore. He was laughing in the back of boat as he steered it from the engine. I remember singing "She'll be coming around the Mountain" in the front of his ole red truck while grandpa pulled the boat around the hills to the lake. I will never forget his smell, although most times it is a smell I hate....cigarettes. But now when I get around someone who smokes that same brand I take in a deep breath and think of him, my Grandpa.

Each time I see a simple wooden swing hanging from a tree, I think of the one he built for us in his back yard in Tinley Garden.

You see, he was a simple man and maybe a little rough around the edges. When us granddaughters (the first two grandbabies) came around he was a instant "softy." This tall slender man who fought in WWII and refused to discuss it became a warm lap for us to crawl into. He loved us and there was not any doubt. I wish he had lived longer.
He would have loved to watch his 5 great-grandaughters grow. They too would have crawled up into his lap and been loved without any conditions. I miss him today and each day. He may have lived to be a old man but he still left too early.

I've Been Stolen

I woke this morning and walked through our concrete apartment, climbed into a hot shower, and heard my wife banging on the door. She was shouting something about hockey purchases and the Internet. It takes a lot to pry me from a hot shower but that worked. Seems she was on the phone with the company that holds our sole credit card. They wanted to know if we really were in the UK buying hockey tickets and hockey equipment. And for some reason she felt it necessary to ask me in the shower if I had been in the UK overnight doing those deeds.

Doubtful.

I assured her that I had been by her side all night long. And thus ... our security ... our personal credit card number ... had been hacked. Compromised. Stolen. Whatever you want to call it. Nice, huh? Like the good company they are the people down at Chase canceled our card, promised to have a new one in our hands by Monday, and agreed to not charge us for any fraudulent purchases. Cool. I can finish showering now.

I"ve heard of "identity theft" before. But who would want to be me? If I were going to steal someone's identity ... it wouldn't be MINE. I'm a lowly pastor! I live in a rented concrete apartment! My 401(K) isn't even a 201(K) anymore! I cheer for teams that habitually lose!

I mean, come on. Would you want to be me? As I sit here in my "fuzzy buddy" (formerly known as "The Date Chair") I'm wearing mesh shorts and a Toledo Mud Hens t-shirt. Does that sound stylish to you? I think not. The only flat-screen I own is on my back door. Oops. Wait. I sold my house. I don't even own that flat screen anymore! I'm drinking Coke out of a can because I'm too lazy to pour it into a glass which would just require washing anyway.

I repeat. Would YOU want to be ME?

Somebody in the UK really needs to get a life. And I hope the seats I bought them are behind a steel beam in the nose bleed section.

Smudges

I have smudges on my laptop screen. Little smudges. Couldn't figure out where they came from. I got to work this morning and almost wiped them off because, I mean, they are just .... there.

Then I remembered.

"The Amazing Elle" (aka: the worlds most awesome granddaughter) was sitting on my lap on Thanksgiving and she wanted to see pictures. I asked her which pictures she had in mind. She told me "mountain pictures." She was talking about the pictures that I took at Christopher and Laura's wedding in Beaver Creek, Colorado back in October.

No problem. Elle wants to look at pictures with grandpa? Elle will certainly get to look at pictures with grandpa! I pulled them up and we reminisced. Well, we reminisced as much as a 53 year old can with a 2 year old. Hey, it worked for us.

When Elle looks at pictures she points. She touches. Usually, nobody touches my laptop screen and walks away without twisted fingers. "Tess" the laptop is under a direct "order of protection" issued by yours truly. But Elle? She can touch. Not a problem.

And touch she did. Over and over. Evidence indicates that she touched about a dozen times. And now that I'm sitting here 600 miles away from her ... well ... those smudges are more precious than they were when she put them there. They are her. It's her fingerprints. Her DNA. And for a grandfather they are warmth and love and hugs. They are joy and laughter and giggles.

And they aren't going anywhere.

Thanks, God

Yesterday Debbie and I drove 610 miles without a problem. Everything worked great. The sun was shining for most of the trip. We were warm alone together. When we finished driving I stepped out of our way too big SUV and said, "Thanks, God."

I woke up this morning in a dark room and wondered for about 6 seconds where I was. Then I walked upstairs and sat with my granddaughter, The Amazing Elle, as we ate warm cinnamon rolls that her mother, my daughter, had prepared. We smiled at each other. She giggled. She wiped her hands on my shirt sleeve. Only she and I saw it and I laughed. As she walked away to play my gaze followed her and I said, "Thanks, God."

I talked with my lovely daughter and her husband, a man who loves His Lord and loves his wife. I watched the two of them look at each other with the eyes of two who have shared life for years and find themselves more deeply in love than they were on the day they married and more deeply in respect than they ever thought possible. I watched them "do life" for a few minutes when they didn't really know I was paying attention. And I realized how they were both in the very middle of realizing their greatest dreams. I closed my eyes and silently mouthed, "Thanks, God."

I sat with family and some friends that I have probably not seen in a year. We ate the traditional thanksgiving meal. Some of us ate too much of it. I was in that group. I turned down desert and then realized how dumb that was and I accepted an amazing gift of sugary delight. And it was very good. As I sampled each delicious bite I thought about our unseen guest and I said, "Thanks, God."

I met my sons and their wives in two separate places, enjoyed two separate conversations, drank a Coke and took a drive with one, then ate an evening meal and laughed about life with the other. As I watched them go their ways I had to marvel at them men and the couples that they are and with great joy I said, "thanks, God."

I lay on my daughters floor with Elle and we put puzzles together. I messed up on purpose and she fixed my mistakes. Then she put a stethoscope in her ears and talked into the piece you put over your heart. We played a game we had played last night. She said, "Everybody say YABBI!" And I shouted "YABBI!" We did it for five minutes and it wasn't long enough. Her eyes twinkled and I breathlessly fell into them as I inwardly shouted, "thanks, God."

And now the day ends. And it is quiet. Elle is asleep. Kelli is surfing her Facebook account. Debbie is watching David Letterman's mom on TV. Joe had to run out and do a quick "video shoot" for this Sunday's church service. And I sit here. And I realize how rich I am. And I can't wait for tomorrow. And I have to say it one more time.

Thanks, God.

The Squeaky Blog Gets The Sun

You mean all I had to do was complain?

Shunned By(e) The Sun

The sun is missing in action. No, seriously. It's gone. I have not seen it in 25 days ... and that was in St. Louis. I don't know how long it was absent here in Cleveland before that mini-trip. It is safe to say that it was days at a bare minimum. Perhaps weeks. It had been long enough that I remember flying above the clouds just as we began descending into Cleveland. I actually looked at the blue sky and whispered a subdued, "Goodbye." I knew it was going to be a while. Which means that it had been a while. My logic is good so don't question me!

Let's just go back to our original presupposition. The sun is missing in action.

And that makes me a cruel man. "How cruel does it make you" you ask? Glad you asked. I'll explain. Try to keep up.

I have bookmarked in my favorite places, web cams from around the country. A serious boatload of places. I am addicted to webcams. Call me nosy, curious, or anything you want but I do love me some web cams. Here is a partial list of my favorites ...

-Niagara Falls
-Seattle's "Space Needle"
-Sears Tower
-Wrigley Field
-The shipping port on Lake Superior in Duluth, Mn.
-The "Wailing Wall" in Jerusalem
-The Great Pyramids in Egypt
-The 3 mile marker on I-270 (why? why not?)
-The Alamo (Remember? The alamo?)
-Dealey Plaza in Dallas Texas (where JFK was assassinated)
-Times Square
-Mt. St. Helens
-The U.S. Capital
-The Eisenhower Tunnel under the Continental Divide in Colorado

I think you get the idea. We are talking web cam mania here.

And lately I have been using my web cam addiction to make myself feel better. You know, about the missing sun. I click on a web cam and silently pray ... this is hard to admit ... I silently pray ... (sigh) give me a second to compose myself here ...




Okay, I silently pray that IT IS CLOUDY EVERYWHERE!

I feel so much better now that I got it out. Thank you for listening.

You see, I don't want to be sun deprived all by myself. If I am miserable then the rest of the world should be miserable too. If I am pasty white then you should be pasty white.

Isn't that awful? And yet, to paraphrase an old song ... "If de-sunning you is wrong I don't wanna be right!"

God, forgive me.

Allergic To Night Time

This makes absolutely no sense at whatsoever.

All day long I feel fine. Healthy. Whole.

Nighttime comes. The sun sets. It starts.

Drip. Drip. Sneeze. Drip.

What's with that? I blow my nose. My head aches.

Drip. Drip. Sneeze. Drip.

It's been this way for a couple of weeks now. Nothing in our apartment changes from daytime till night. Actually, we don't even have the heat running. Seriously. We don't pay the bill. It's included in our rent. But the huge building we are in has us all sandwiched between apartments up, down, right, left. I guess everybody around us keeps us toasty warm. It's in the 20's outside. But it isn't the heating system. NOTHING changes.

Except for my head.

Drip. Drip. Sneeze. Drip.

I do believe I am allergic to night time.

Snain and Slipper Socks

I'm not ready. Thanksgiving is around the corner. Christmas is just over the horizon. People are already turning on multi-colored lights and I actually saw a Christmas tree in a picture window this week. And I'm simply not ready for it all.

Wal-Mart is ready. They have been ready since August. They are drooling and salivating, sharpening their tearing-teeth and shoring up their grinders. They know I have to come in the door.

I think I refuse.

I'm not scrooge. I don't "bah, humbug" well. But after months of CNN and Fox News telling me that the financial world is coming to an end I just go nuts when I think about the bulls-eyes being painted on my head. The first news story is that the "great collapse" is upon us. The second news story is delayed so that they can squeeze in a "Visa" commercial. Ya can't have it both ways, people.

Okay, so that's how I feel about it. My Christmas tree ... the plastic one ... is in storage again this year. The ornaments are in a box someplace. Again. But I look at it this way. I live on the third floor. There are three parts to The Trinity. So it's a godly thing. My apartment number is 310. Again, three parts in the Trinity, one God, zero people living at the north pole ... if you know what I mean. So it's a godly thing too. I also believe that there is a secret message in my cars license plate but I'd have to go out on the balcony and strain visually into the darkness to see for sure. The wind is a nice steady 40 mph and it's "snaining." That's snow-mixed-with-rain. Snain. And I don't really want to know badly enough to get snained on. So you will have to trust me on that one. Debbie is watching "TLC" on the tube right now. T = Trinity. L = Lord. C = Christmas. I translate that to mean that Christmas is about the Lord ... all three parts. The Trinity. So for the time being I'm just going to drink another can of Vernor's and wait. Wal-Mart will be open twenty-four hours a day soon so why should I rush?

Besides, by then they'll have all of their slipper socks on clearance. I'll buy a case. Bingo-bango. I'm done.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #27

This road was brought to you courtesy of Ontario, Canada.

Whatever you do ... do NOT back up ...

Ahhhh. This is why I love her...

If you read my daughters blog you may have already seen this. If not ... it seems that Elle missed her nap yesterday. This was the result at suppertime.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #26

I don't know what it means but it can't be good.

Trained professionals only ... do NOT try this at home ...

Lessons from 39,000 feet

According to the Southwest Airlines web site I have flown 18 times in the last year. I was surprised to hear that. My time in the air approaches 1.5 days. I would rather have spent that time on some beach or perhaps on a mountain top but it didn't work out that way. Nope. It's 36 hours in the clouds for me.

I have learned some things in those 1.5 days. "What have you learned?" you ask? Well. Let me reveal my #1 lesson.

I have learned that sometimes airplanes don't hold together as well as you might expect. Care for an example? I thought you'd never ask. In September I was sitting in the very back seat of a jet flying from somewhere to somewhere. I was in the window seat. And then the window was in my seat. Seriously. The inside window of the 737 fell off and landed in my lap. This was rather unexpected. I held it up, looked it over and decided it might make a good souvenir. I was eyeing my backpack when the flight attendant happened by. She asked me why I was holding the window. How do you reply to that? I told her that it fell into my lap. She failed to see the humor in the situation and told me to put it back. I could see my opportunity for extra peanuts on this flight rapidly deteriorating and so I put the window back up to the fuselage opening and slammed it with a closed fist. It popped back into place. I am pretty certain I saved the entire crew and all of the passengers from certain death. Depressurization is an ugly thing. And yet I didn't even get a "thank you." Just a scowl. The peanuts never did come by.

Well. That's how I spent part of my time in the air. Remind me someday and I'll tell you about the time I was the only passenger on the plane. Stellar.

I'm annoyed!

One of the Cleveland news broadcasts did a bit today on what Oxford University has called "the most annoying phrases" in the English language. They are ...

1. At the end of the day

2. Fairly unique

3. I personally

4. At this moment in time

5. With all due respect

6. Absolutely

7. It's a nightmare

8. Shouldn't of

9. 24/7

10. It's not rocket science

While those are good, I think I can do better. Here's what drives me up a tree ...

1. Here's what drives me up a tree (I had a friend who drove up a tree once. It didn't work so well. He's dead now.)

2. That's what she said (Only because I didn't say it more quickly than the person who said it)

3. Whattya gonna do? (Smack you if you say that again.)

4. As you all know (NO I DON'T! I DON'T KNOW MUCH OF ANYTHING! STOP ASSUMING I'M BRILLIANT JUST BECAUSE I'M A GOOD FAKER!)

5. La La Land (I live there. I like it there. Stop belittling it.)

6. Later! (Later what?)

7. Hush hush (I wish people would be quiet about hushing up.)

8. In a funk (See note on # 5)

9. To hot to handle (Then get out of the way and let me deal with it)

10 On the same wavelength (Get off my wavelength. It's mine. Get your own.)

Special Bonus Saying ...

11 I'm just sayin ... (I've used this one and I repent. I use it when I'm actually not sure what I just said. I use it a lot.)