Every Little Boy's Dream

One of a few childhood memories I can clearly picture in my mind's eye is the classroom in Benjamin Franklin Elementary School where I spent the kindergarten school year of my life. In particular, I envision the wooden jungle gym near the middle of the room. There were many days were that structure served as the stage of a sort of 5-year-old boy fashion show. Perhaps even a pageant. That's right, I'm talking about...

UNDEROOS!

Yep, you heard me. Underoos!

Now don't get your proverbial panties in a bunch. I'm not suggesting my kindergarten teacher was so "progressive" as to allow half-dozen 5-year-old boys to prance around in the middle of class wearing nothing but their skivvies and smiles. (Yes, that was a bit of an "Auntie Mame" slam:)) In fact, I remember that Mrs. Moroni (more affectionately known as Mrs. Macaroni) had a pretty good handle on things. But let me clarify: during the indoor recess time, in true Clark Kent-esque form, many of us boys would peel off whatever top layer of shirt/sweater/sweatshirt we were wearing to reveal the true superhero that lay beneath.

For example, my Batman undershirt gave me the ability to cause large cartoon dialog balloons (such as "POW!" and "WHAP!") to appear when I struck down a villainous foe. Occasionally, depending on the various household laundry cycles represented in the classroom, there were multiple Batmans, Supermans, etc. protecting the class on a given day--watch out all you demented ill-named fiends plotting to take over the universe!

Through the years between kindergarten and today, I have many times dreamed of really being able to levitate objects with my mind, or to exercise physical strength beyond natural human limitations. And even outside of the context published by the likes of Marvel Comics, I have considered the soaring eagle, and longed to experience the freedom and perspective of his lofty ways.

But I am now arriving in a season where the truth of the matter is becoming clear to me.

As a parent, I see the same impossible superheroic longings and imaginations in my own son and daughters. Yet I also see their tremendous shortcomings in things that are not so superhuman. Things like telling the truth. And working hard. And exercising self-control. And being kind to each other. And being grateful.

And for my part, I have seen positive results when I train/coach/encourage/discipline them with particular skills, like how to play soccer. But, I have also seen very little effectiveness when I try to do the same for those character shortcomings. And it leaves me feeling so very powerless.

Come to think of it, maybe those things really are superhuman after all. Where are my Underoos now?

Good thing there really is a super-power to fight those villains: the Holy Spirit.

So as their parent, I see that what my kids need most is the Holy Spirit.

Me too.

"Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!"

Just Two Things

I've wielded a number of complex thoughts and arguments that defend the existence and intervention of God in my day-to-day life, and in those situations I've been encountering where pain, disappointment, grief, death, loss, etc. seem to be having their way.

But those intellectual weapons don't seem to be having any noticeable effect.

So I'm lingering on a couple of simple thoughts today.

Psalm 62 says...
"One thing God has spoken,
two things have I heard:
that you, O God, are strong,
and that you, O Lord, are loving.
Surely you will reward each person
according to what he has done."

He is strong.

He is loving.

Take that Brokenness! Take that Fear, and Pain, and Hopelessness!

See if you can stand up to His love and strength, Death and Divorce! Love that went to the utmost extreme! Strength that only had to speak to form the very universe!

Just try it!

My heart is stirred by a noble theme...

A stirred-up heart. That would be refreshing.

No, amazing. That would be AMAZING!

Oh, how frustrating to merely endure the daily grind of life. And the hope that somehow my heart will be better equipped to face tomorrow's circumstances swirls unpredictably beyond my control, like the early autumn leaves the neighbor is blowing from his yard to mine.

How will I respond? The "right" answer is already in my cranium, but the actions and attitude don't resonate.

I don't just need the right answer, the right thought, the perfect advice. My heart needs to be stirred up!

My heart is stirred by a noble theme...

Psalm 45 is richly prophetic in its foretelling of a "most excellent" prince and his "all glorious" royal princess bride.

The Prince. Gracious in all He says, victorious, truthful, humble, righteous, just, anointed with the oil of joy.

The Bride. Enthralling in her beauty, courted by wealth, forsaking her past.

The Bride's past, her suitors only serve to magnify Him.

Stir up my heart! Drizzle the oil of Your joy on me!

What does He sound like?

An unexpected question left me wrestling with that question.

Last night while I was tucking daughter #2 into bed, she asked me how she would know if God was talking to her. She had prayed many times about many things, but had never heard Him answer. And she wasn't really sure she would know if He was "telling" her something.

So many have that same question, Christian and non-Christian alike. Just Google "does god talk" to see a plethora of attempts to analyze God's communication with man. While many writings take a heavily theological stance, the best one I found quotes some 7-12 year olds: How Does God Talk To You?

Although those deep, scholastic, logical presentations can be intellectually satisfying, they hardly address the angst I have known in those times when I've longed deeply to hear from Him. The problem is that that longing isn't intellectual; it's spiritual. My spirit needs to be able to communicate, since "God is spirit."

I've never heard Him myself, at least, not with my ears. But I've known Him to respond to my prayers, and to direct certain situations in my life.

And having an opportunity to convey that to my dear 9-year-old, who genuinely wanted to know, was a privilege I won't take for granted. In fact, I'm pretty sure God was speaking to me in that situation!

Thank you gracious Lord!

Guess Who! (updated)

Here's _Mayor Greg Ballard (Indianapolis)_ (in the suit) with me (no, not in the suit, and not wearing a tan jacket walking away from the camera behind the car).

Think you can fill in the blank? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Great guess Lisa! And I didn't even have to give hints.

Not that bloggy...really.

Oh, my dear wife. What are you trying to do to me?

First, I fall prey to the AI blogging epidemic. Now pyramid-scheme blogging with rules? What next?!?!

Alas, here are the rules imposed upon such hapless victims as myself:
1. Write the title to your own memoir using 6 words.
2. Post it on your blog.
3. Link to the person that tagged you.
4. Tag five more blogs.

Drum roll please...

Either way is fine by me.

There it is. I know what you're thinking: profound, daring, poignant. Well, maybe I come across as a little opinionated, but I'm willing to take that risk.

Now the problem--I don't really have any blogging associates. Unless I count my wife's. So, I'll just tag her back 5 times (I love you Sweetie!), and let her pass along another 5 tags.

Shutdown Day - tomorrow!

I'm gonna try this: http://shutdownday.org/



I think the biggest challenge for me will be my cell. phone, especially since it's an e-mail/web browser/etc. SmartPhone.



But I also envision some other difficulties, since our household has come to rely on the convenience of Internet-based driving directions, weather, gardening tips, etc., etc., etc. It's going to take some forethought to avoid pitfalls which will send me scrambling to plug in, power up, and logon (perhaps in a similar sense to this). And since it's nearly Friday afternoon already, I'd better get forethinking!

I'm succumbing

Yes, this is me, blogging about American Idol.

There aren't nearly enough blog posts editorializing the AI goings-on scattered across the blogoverse.

So here's mine.

I'll keep it short (I can do that pretty well).

Natasha Bettef...... didn't sound like she had a pocket full of sunshine. In fact she was quite shouty in the middle of the song. Like maybe she had a pocket full of angry fists. Fists that are dry and cracked, and that desperately need Calgon.

Take me away!

It's after my bedtime.
_________________________

I was soooo done. I even gave EEEEMommy the old "I should be sleeping now" line (which usually elicits a deep sigh from my dear night owl).

But then, they did it. The brass section and the background vocalists. They completely ruined any serious "personal" and "intimate" vibe good ole' Neil was shooting for in his "Pretty Amazing Grace" number.

The brass guys were grooving a little too much. I don't even remember seeing them play their instruments. Perhaps they did, and I was just too distracted by the crazy, octopus-like swaying/waving/pointing/walk-like-an-Egyptian/chicken dance hand motions from the background singers.

Good thing they didn't show much of the "mosh" pit! The mental distraction that would have caused would definitely require therapy.

All-nighters used to be so fun!

Now I have a family, and a house, and a job, and a yard, and have to behave responsibly pretty much every day (even on vacation, although I'm not sure I did a great job of that last week--thanks for hanging in there with me EEEEMommy!).

But if I do give up sleep for a night, there are a few qualifying reasons in my book:
- sick child(ren)
- sick spouse
- sick me
- talking and playing games with good friends (making for even better friends)
- being in a tent (or just under the stars)
- New Year's Eve

I think that's about it. Maybe I'll think of a few more, but I'm sure that "fixing e-mail servers that got broken in the course of applying patches for a project with an overly-aggressive schedule" won't be on it.

Blah!

You read it here first!

Yahoo! Mail appears to be down today.

Has been since I got in to the office around 8:30 a.m.

Yes, I do check my personal e-mail at work. Occasionally.

Yes, I do get into work after 8:00 a.m. Often.

It's still down now (1:04 p.m. EST).

Just thought you should know.

[I thought about trying to break this story in Haiku form, but that would be an even more significant procrastination on my part. And since I'm just returning to work after a week-long vacation to Peejun Forj--no, that's not in Iceland--I need to keep my procrastinations to a minimum.]

So, it appears that not all of Yahoo! mail was down, just the new Beta interface. But since that's what I use, it was down for me. Oi ve!

I quit!

That's it! No more blogging for me. In fact, I've had it with technology altogether. I'm going to quit my job, and aim for employment collecting golf balls at a driving range.

And I think I'll stop eating ice cream and pizza while I'm at it.

And any more Hershey's candy that my parents bring directly from the factory store.

And I'm going to sell my guitar and my volleyball on eBay.

...

Alright, I couldn't think of anything really clever to post on this April Fool's Day. Perhaps this will redeem the time for you:

Have you heard about this case? In Florida, an atheist became incensed over the preparation of Easter and Passover holidays. He decided to contact his lawyer about the discrimination inflicted on atheists by the constant celebrations afforded to Christians and Jews with all their holidays while atheists had no holiday to celebrate.

The case was brought before a judge. After listening to the long passionate presentation by the lawyer, the Judge banged his gavel and declared, "Case dismissed!"

The lawyer immediately stood and objected to the ruling and said, "Your Honor, how can you possibly dismiss this case? The Christians have Christmas, Easter and many other observances. Jews have Passover, Yom Kippur and Hanukkah. Yet my client and all the other atheists have no such holiday!"

The judge leaned forward in his chair and simply said, "Obviously your client is too confused to even know about, much less celebrate his own atheists' holiday!"

The lawyer pompously said, "Your Honor, we are unaware of any such holiday for atheists. Just when might this holiday be, your Honor?"

The judge said, "Well it comes every year on exactly the same date--April 1st! Since our calendar sets April 1st as 'April Fools Day,' consider that Psalm 14:1 states, 'The fool says in his heart, there is no God.' Thus, in my opinion, if your client says there is no God, then by scripture, he is a fool, and April 1st is his holiday! Now have a good day and get out of my courtroom!"

I love British humor!

Hysterical--no subtitles necessary.

Weird Science?

When is the "scientific" community not really the scientific community? Quite often. Certainly, recognition of who is/isn't qualified to make scientific assertions has fallen into the hands of the media. And it's doing nothing to bolster the notion of journalistic integrity.

Consider Exhibit A: http://www.reuters.com/article/email/idUSN0444950920080304

The referenced article (titled "High on Mount Sinai?") outlines a new theory to explain, sans Divine intervention, the happenings on Mount Sinai when Moses received the Ten Commandments from God. What you can infer at this point, even without reading the brief article, is that the new theory hypothesizes that all of the people of the nation of Israel were, at that time, under the influence of a "hallucinogenic brew," causing them to imagine the events recorded in Exodus 19.

Hmmmm...

Following this idea to its logical conclusion, I guess you'd have to chalk up the rest of the congruous events recorded in the book of Exodus to similar inebriation...were the Israelites merely a bunch of drugged-up hippies gathered around Mt. Woodstock?

But back to my point--who is this "scientist" proposing this as a reasonable explanation of historically-recorded events?

The article notes that he is a "psychology professor." How interesting! I myself have some credentials in the psychology field (see #4), but certainly don't consider myself qualified to suggest alternate readings of historical documents.

Okay, so I'm definitely snide in my opinion of the psychology field. But psychologist aren't the only "scientists" who have felt qualified to wax eloquent on topics outside of their expertise. Thespians continue to consider themselves eminently qualified to offer their expert opinions regarding foreign military operations. And more to the point, many cosmologists, astronomers, physicists, etc. strive daily to develop theories regarding the origin of the universe, using currently-observable behaviors of anything from electrically-stimulated gases to buried fragments of bones to offer proof of those theories.

However, in the end, those theories must, in the strict sense of the word "theory," remain just that. They should never be considered "proven," at least until a time-travel machine is really invented, which would allow historical events to be observed.

Don't get me wrong--I'm not writing off the value of scientific hypotheses and proper application of the sciencific method. Science is of great value, but only when it doesn't try to become history. And for that matter, acting does offer some value to society, but certainly not at the head of arguably the most advanced military force in the present-day world (I don't know about you, but I wouldn't be so willing to put my life on the line under the command of someone who gets paid to be someone else).

In the end, I echo wholehearted agreement with the synopsis of the orthodox rabbi: "The Bible is trying to convey a very profound event. We have to fear not for the fate of the biblical Moses, but for the fate of science."

Ever been to prison?

I have...finally!

I'd been putting it off some quite some time, but it finally made its way into my schedule. There have been a number of opportunities to go in the past few years, but I just hadn't made it a priority.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a prison. But it was a maximum-security juvenile correctional facility. That makes me a least a little tough, doesn't it?

A few Sunday's ago, I accepted the offer, and joined a couple of Brothers in leading a worship service there. I've had several invitations in the past to be involved with prison ministry, but there have always been weighty-enough excuses to decline.

But that Sunday afternoon, there was no excuse, no reason to put it off any longer. And what I found there (thanks in part to my basketball career) wasn't so shocking: a bunch of almost-adult boys doing all they can to avoid appearing vulnerable.

They showed it in many different ways. Some were rowdy. Some were quiet and withdrawn. Only a couple appeared to be attentive or interested.

Not so unlike....well...anywhere else.

The great irony of vulnerability is that those who show it (at least in the emotional and spiritual senses) are the stronger ones. I'm pretty sure I'm not one of them.

In our current culture which gives plenty of "people are basically good" lip service (which is a lie!), yet is so bent on self service that everyone is suspect of taking advantage of me, revealing my weaknesses is a daunting prospect. Willingness to show my flaws without fear of rejection, ridicule, or exploitation is beyond any resolve or determination I can muster. Candidly, cognizance of my flaws is something I usually avoid.

And yet, growing stronger requires that I start by recognizing my weaknesses. In fact, I'm convinced that recognition of those weaknesses IS strength. As the years trickle by, it's becoming clearer to me that the most significant component of maturation is that of becoming well-acquainted with ones flaws.

My heart ached for those boys, many of them staring blankly, content simply to be temporarily relieved of their confinement. There was so much more we were there to offer them than a few breaths of less stale air. But for their unwillingness to let their guard down, let alone expose any soft spots, I wonder how many caught a glimpse of the great treasure being laid before them.

I highly recommend going to prison. It certainly played a part in reforming me--it could even reform the likes of you!

Dear Son,

[A bloggy friend of my dear bride is having a contest for writing a letter to one of your kids. Not being the immensely-verbal type, I guess it's fitting for me to use this opportunity to express some gratitute to my son for the great job he's done raising me.]

I can't believe you've already been with us for a full decade! Looking back at your baby pictures has an out-of-body experience feel to it, and yet those days seem so recent as well.

You can probably recall many aspects of your own life, as you saw them through your own eyes, as you felt them with your own heart. Maybe they're similar to the ways I remember them too. Maybe not. Oh well...every child is destined to have parents whose memory didn't latch onto the same key childhood events yours did.

But I do hope you'll remember some of those key parenthood events that have defining places in my thoughts.

Like when you...

- Helped me develop a stronger stomach (learning to change CLOTH diapers)
- Spent one-on-one time with me while Mommy waitressed (thanks for sharing your puréed sweet potatoes and carrots too!)
- Took me on our first camping trip at Pax River Naval Air Station ("It's 5 A.M. Lay down and GO TO SLEEP!")
- Fine-tuned my soccer coaching skills with several of your 8/9-year old friends
- Taught me to ride a bike...


- Forgave me all of those times when I set a bad example for you, and had enough brain cells operating to recognize and admit it
- Helped me realize how important it is to consistently pray and read the Bible, and to be a good example of a husband and father

Wow! Thanks to you, I've really grown and matured over the past ten years.


I love you, son. You're doing a great job raising me so far. I hope you'll stick it out with me, 'cause I know I have a long way to go...

Love,
Dad

Family-Friendly

As I was driving to work yesterday morning, that phrase just struck me silly. Why are soooo many Christian radio stations, movies, etc. dubbed as "family-friendly?"

Well, there's certainly the obvious answer--they don't scare people away by saying "Jesus" (although "Jesus-friendly" should really be their aim, shouldn't it?).

But it seems to me there's also a more pragmatic explanation. And I, being a pragmatic kind of guy, will attempt to explore that...

Some Divinely-appointed friends recently asked about what standards we apply for movies we allow our kids to watch. Have you ever had to answer that question to like-minded friends whose children are playmates of yours? Talk about a touchy, carefully-worded discussion!

We didn't even have to explain some of the obvious violence, language, and sexual content metrics (all fairly clear to distinguish, even if you don't see eye-to-eye about what is "too" ______ for my kids). However, phrases like "potty talk" and "crude jokes" and "disrespectful" were required to further distinguish why some movies targeted at today's younger audience might not be suitable for ours. Now, defining what exactly qualifies as "potty talk" is no easy task. Heck, even deciding which jokes are "crude" is a tough one--there are some jokes that definitely are, and some that definitely aren't, but there's a huge gray area in the middle...

Nonetheless, I bear a God-given responsibility to make that determination for my children, and to model those standards for them.

Wait a minute! Did I just write that...yeah, that second part there?

After all, one of the most widely-accepted axioms of parenting is that not everything that might be acceptable for my mental and emotional consumption is acceptable for consumption by my children. So many of us parents live that out...it must be true!

But if a particular commerical aired during an NFL game makes me cringe because my 10-year-old son is sitting on the couch next to me, taking it all in, is it really okay for me to watch it too?

Here's another generalized example. I've noticed what I'll now dub as a "classic" phenomenon which occurs to many parents of young children: they start going to church. Think with me...how many young married couples have you known that were completely disinterested in church or anything spiritual...until they had children? Now, suddenly they're thinking about what kind of upbringing those impressionable youngsters will have. Surely, they don't want to be to blame if those kids grow up to be heathens! And even before they get to that point, they're purging their music and movie libraries (or, at least, boxing them up) and their language. And maybe they're even reevaluating their friends.

Okay, I know I don't have to keep emphasizing the double-standards that so many of us parents have--we probably all feel guilty about it already.

But let me ask another question on the positive side: do ours kids actually serve as a significant component of our consciences?

I could make a very long list of instances in which one of my children pointed out my less-than-savory behavior. Sometimes even unintentionally. Or of the times when my own words sounded not-so-wholesome coming from a much younger mouth.

Rather than living in fear of my children turning out like me, I'd better start living a more "family-friendly" life.

Presentation Skills

On Tuesday, I had an opportunity to give a presentation (yes, replete with PowerPoint slides).

I prepared many hours for said presentation. Many hours.

My slideshow was keenly templated, doused in captivating animations, and encumbered in geekily-detailed glory!

There was no stopping me!

No, really, there was no stopping me. Even though my presentation was supposed to last for 20 minutes, maybe 30 at the most, it took me about 50 to complete. That's right 2.5 times as long as it was supposed to be.

Now, in my defense, it had been almost 2 years since I had given a similar such presentation. And I didn't have an opportunity to fully rehearse it so as to know it's possible duration (or was it that I didn't MAKE that opportunity?). And I did allow my technical comrades to ask questions during my presentation...

But still, 2.5 times?

Wow!

Well, today, I have another opportunity--instead of my fellow engineers, however, it will be a room full of of not-so-technical types (i.e. not interested in the full geekness). I've eliminated about 40% of the slides, polished my comments, and rehearsed.

All I can say is...please pray for me!

On the surface...

"On the surface not a ripple,
Undercurrent wages war."

So writes one of my favorite singer/songwriters.

How many would describe me as "even-keeled," "always calm," "never gets upset?" Most probably would. Several have.

Yet few catch glimpses of the undercurrent roiling inside. True, I don't lose my cool often.
At least, not outwardly. But I can get angry. I can get really angry. And I can get sullen, and impatient...and...well, I won't go on (this time).

"Quiet in the sanctuary,
Sin is crouching at my door."

I need to remember. Oh, how I need so much to remember.

I need to remember how I'm not bound to live angry, or sullen, or impatient, or...

I need to remember that "it's" not about how I lived (sorry POG ladies, I disagree).

I need to remember that this life is only "the dash in between" the dates on my tombstone, and that the second date marks the beginning of reality.

"Curse-reversing Day of Jesus,
When you finally seize my soul.
Freedom from myself will be
The sweetest rest I’ve ever known."

The Jews Have It Right!

Ugh! I'm exhasuted today! I struggled to get out of bed.

And had an even harder time getting my attitude on the right track. (I know, I know, you're struggling to relate...just bear with me...)

If I don't get a good night's sleep, my attitude and actions in the morning usually reflect it. In fact, barring Supernatural interventon, I'm practically guaranteed to have a rocky start to my day...well, let's not stop there..a rocky WHOLE day. (Now I've completely lost you, haven't I?)

(Wow! Am I *really* that sarcastic? Oh dear, now maybe I have really lost you...come back!)

Where were we? Ummm...oh yes: tired, exhausted, having a bad [attitude] day.

Suggestions anyone? Starbucks? Red Bull?

How about starting my Friday on, say, Thursday night instead?

Perhaps considering a good night's sleep as the beginning of a productive, respectable day (instead of its end) would aid against the struggles.

Now, I don't fully credit the Jewish people with the idea that a day begins the night before. I mean, they are the Chosen People, not necessarily the Deserving People (don't get carried away, we Gentiles aren't either)--they didn't come up with the idea on their own. But they do adhere to it.

And why not?

There are certainly some great spiritual truths bound up in it, such as Darkness preceding the Light. Yet even non-theologians can appreciate the very practical aspect of building a good night's rest into one's day.

My dear bride and I, for a time, ensured that our Sunday mornings were not harried, hectic, altogether-unspiritual events by carefully considering our Saturday evening plans. Unfortunately, we've lost a bit of that resolve (I don't dare call it a habit--it was never "automatic"). Nonetheless, on those many exhausting morning-after occasions, I can't overlook the impact that last night has on today.

Profound? It's too obvious to warrant that word. And yet the sacrifices required to turn that idea into a lifestyle are hardly trivial. You figure that part out yourself...

Now, if you'll excuse me, tomorrow is a few short hours away, and I have to get ready for bed!

To the top of the mountain...and back down again.

Sunday was a great day!

After a spiritually-enriching time of worship together with 150 or so dear Brothers and Sisters, we embarked on a 1.5-hour drive to nearby Perfect North Slopes to enjoy a beautiful day in The Neighborhood by snow tubing. What a treat! The frigid previous week ensured an icy sheen on the tube runs (super*FAST*), while the sunny weather of the day (in the 40s) kept our toes and noses from complaining. It couldn't have been more "Perfect." Well, at least until my cell. phone's familiar buzz interrupted...

...my brother-in-law was calling to find out when we were going to arrive...at their house...for a birthday party...1.5 hours (or more) away. I quickly quipped that we were still on the slopes, and that our tickets permitted about 30 more minutes of tubing time.

"How long will it take you to get here after that?"
"Well, it took us about 1.5 hours, so probably about that long," was my reply, knowing that 1.5 hours was very optimistic (note foreshadowing...).

"Well, I hope we're still awake when you get here."
"Yeah, me too." [laugh]

Click.

Ah well, the great outdoors is still calling, and we need to get our money's worth. Back to tubing. We're determined to get the largest group of tubes to go down the hill together. What a rush!

But there's a little nag in the back of my mind. Brother-in-law was cordial, but didn't sound thrilled about the prospect of us showing up for dinner, presents, and cake at 7:30 p.m. (or later).

Finish our tubing, we must! Back to the slopes!

Sunday was a terrible day.

We finally piled in the van and started driving after 7:00 p.m. (remember earlier time estimate...we're approximately -1 hours ahead of schedule). What does any reasonable person do when the egregiously-underestimated schedule of the day lags so far behind?

Why, he speeds of course!

Huh? He does what?

Yep, even though he has been working to eliminate speeding from his driving diet for years (barring exceptional cases, of course...like this one, right?), he opens up the throttle on the interstate and flies right by all of the other caravaning vehicles carrying many of those dear Brothers and Sisters mentioned above, leaving his reputation as a safe and conscientious driver in the dust...

It's what you would do too, right?

You'd drive 5, 10, 20 MPHs over the speed limit to "soften the blow" of arriving so long after you said you would.

What?!?!? That doesn't even make sense! How's is that going to make anything right?

And then, in your transfixed state, you might even ignore the flashing lights and descending gate at a railroad crossing, tempting fate and endangering the lives of your loving, trusting family.

You'd really do that?!? That's insane!

Why yes, yes it is.


Shortly thereafter, we arrived at brother-in-law's house. As we pull in the driveway, dear 10-year-old son was giddy as he announced, "Now we have a story to tell!"

I, on the other hand, couldn't have been more ashamed...

...more wreckless...

...more foolish...

...more irresponsible...

...more convicted...


I was as profusely apologetic as sincerity would allow, while we spent a polite (and late) evening celebrating with my brother- and sister-in-law, who were so very gracious and hospitable. In fact, dear brother-in-law even managed to keep his cool when our 11-week-old puppy chewed up one of their house plants.

When can this evening end?!?

Monday was burdensome.

I could barely focus on my work yesterday, because I kept picturing the railroad crossing scene in my mind's eye, and hearing my 5-year-old condemning me in the same terrified voice that she used when we were involved in an accident last July, "Daddy you shouldn't have done that! The train could hit us!"

And then my imagination decided to do some exploring into the realm of "what if there wasn't a safe distance of 10-feet between your van and the careening train."

Even today, I'm haunted by all that I destroyed in a matter of about 3 or 4 hours:
- the trust of my wife and children
- the respect of my Brothers and Sisters (did I fail to mention that I and my lovely bride were leading worship on Sunday morning?)
- any swatch of a reputation of being a safe, conscientious driver
- I can't help but wonder what else...

And all for the sake of...well, honestly, I can't distill a coherent purpose out of any of that.

It was just sheer...ah, but words fail to finish that too.

I'm fallen.

I have great reason to be thankful for my forgiving family. And my forgiving God.

A [Slightly] More Serious Note

Soccer, I can do. Volleyball, I'm there. Basketball...not so much.

But after living in IN for 1.5 years, I had a culture-shock breakthrough Tuesday evening.

That's right, I played basketball. I even played it kinda well--I was the high-scorer of the final game that evening.

Granted, everyone (including the opposing team of high school boys) was pretty tired by that point, and I wasn't being guarded very closely. But still, the ball went into the basket after leaving my hands. Nothing short of miraculous!

I'm convinced God was intervening!

More importantly, I hope God was intervening in the hearts and minds of those high school boys, who have two things in common:
1. They love to play basketball (and there's 1 skater too).
2. They live in a pretty rough area in downtown Indianapolis.

Many of them live with one, or neither, parent (and maybe a live-in girlfriend/boyfriend, or a parade of such). Many of the homes in which they live are pretty close to destitution. Many of them are in uncomfortable proximity to drug, alcohol, and sexual abuse on a regular basis.

But they keep coming.

Even though they often lack enthusiasm about the devotion/Bible lesson that one of us old guys shares with them each week, they keep coming. Probably mostly for the basketball, but hopefully for something deeper. Something they themselves don't understand. Something they need if they're going to survive their circumstances.

Something we old guys need to survive our circumstances.

So I keep going too, even if I don't like basketball.

What about you? What don't you like?

I really am a gEEk!

I find humor in this. Now, don't get me wrong--this isn't the funniest geek humor I've seen, but it's quality stuff.

How about you? Do you see any humor in it? Does it even make sense? Will you read it to your kids?

I don't talk much...

...and although I've been encouraged by several key friends to try journaling, my handwriting is...well, painful (both the writing and the reading parts).

On top of that, I'm usually quite content to let others do the talking, and I find that in most group settings, there are plenty of others who are quite content to do the talking. See how content we all are? So nice:)

But alas, many thoughts and ideas remain trapped in my chest and cranial cavaties (probably somewhere in the nasal region--there's plenty of room there). On the other hand, do I really want you to know what's going on in there? Wouldn't that be scary? Maybe for both of us?

After all, that is the quandry for a life-long introvert--so many years of obscuring "who I really am" leaves one wondering how acquiantences would be able to digest "who I really am" if it somehow escaped. Oh dear, seems we have a chicken-and-egg predicament.

I'm sure there's all kinds of psychological (bah!) reasonings for the quandry:

1. Lack of parental approval - Now that I'm no longer a "my parents are close-minded dullards" teenager, I've learned to recognize the many ways that they encouraged and praised me during my stubborn youth. And they're certainly full of support for me and my family now. Can't use that one.

2. Low self-esteem - A former Navy SEAL friend once explained that his collection of various tattoos (on his body) was the result of low self-esteem. Hmmm...what kind of tattoo would suit me? Probably a SmartPhone, or perhaps the OSI Layers model? After all, she's kind of cute.

3. Large nasal cavity - Well, this one's kind of genetic. Surgery is available, but since I'm already going in to debt by having a blog (see Post #1), and since I don't aspire to be a celebrity, I'll have to stick with what I've got.

4. Something-or-other-deficit-disorder (SOODD) - As an honorary psychologist (I did, after all take the first week of a high school psychology class), I'm thinking about inventing a new disorder which has a very small known occurence (1). The only problem is that I'd have to contract with a pharmeceutical company to develop an appropriate medication--clinical trials, TV commercials ("May cause diarrhea, vomiting, death, and the symptoms that it's supposed to treat."), etc. = $$$cha-ching$$$ (see Post #1).

5. Food stuck in teeth - No explanation necessary. I could go on...

6. Lack of sleep - See, I'm going on.

7. Malnutrition - Still going on.

8. Invisible ducklings that follow you around the house - Ooooh, not sure that part of "who I really am" is ready to come out and play yet. Sorry!

9. Violent video games - I just threw that one in there for some gratuitous fun.



Wait a minute! As I review my not-painful typing, I see that perhaps "who I really am" stuck the end of his nose around the corner for all to see! (very easy for him to do) Wow, he's quite the comedian (or, at least, he thinks so). I hope he didn't lose you with his deep philosophical musings...oh, wait, I can't tell if there actually were any of those. Mostly just humorous banter, but maybe there were some deep thoughts hidden in there. Well, I guess that's "who I really am." Thanks for loving me anyway!

What am I thinking?!?

And so it begins...why I have finally created a blog is beyond logical explanation. When I add up all of the other competing priorities, outstanding projects, and such, starting a blog feels a bit like going into debt.

Ah, but I console myself--quite easily, I might add--with the thought that you, dear friend, are very likely not doing something you should be too. Oh, sweet solidarity!

So what do I plan to accomplish with these electronically-stored-and-rendered binary numbers which somehow aspire to recreate themselves as the thoughts bouncing around my head when they appear on your computer monitor? (I know, don't I sound so heady? Pretty cool!)

Not really sure. Any suggestions? (Yeah, that's me--phlegmatic).