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).