I can't let go

Did you ever see someone do something and say to yourself "I could do that". And then you tried. Yikes! Not so easy huh? When I was a kid I had a friend who could draw like nobodies business. I remember in 3rd or 4th grade we were doing art in class and he was drawing Disney characters that look so much like the real thing you'd have thought he worked for the company. It seemed so easy- he just put pencil to paper and Micky or Donald appeared. Me? Not so much. I was having a hard time with squares and circles. At least when I paint I stay within the lines which is all I need I guess to make a living. By the way, last time I saw "Mr. I can draw Disney" he was unemployed.

Fishing is like the drawing thing to me. I see other people do it and it looks so easy - you cast out and reel in the big one. I see it on tv all the time. I know a couple of guys who fish, one for a living and one for sport and they always come home with a boat load and stories to tell. Easy. I go fishing a few times a year with my daughter and we come home with, well nothing. I don't get it. I do the same thing as the other guys and get nothing. There's gotta be some magic incantation or something. Sheesh. By the way, the last time we caught something was when we were standing on the bank holding our cane poles when "Mr. I can draw Disney" showed up and said how he'd caught over 2000 fish in this very spot last year. Right. He told my daughter to bait her hook and 'throw it in over there". She caught one within 2 minutes. I went home to practice my squares and circles.

Like Mr. Disney, I'm kinda unemployed at the moment. I have a job, just no one is calling for painting or handyman stuff right now. I hate being in this spot because I feel like a failure on some level, like I should have been doing something different. Who knows, maybe so. I'll tell you one thing I should have been doing is being more grateful and aware of my Dads provision throughout the year. I feel like I'm the only one who does this: when things are good and going smooth I kind of forget about how much He is instrumental in providing. Now things are bad and I can't pay my light bill and I feel guilty 'cause I realize I treat Him like some big sugar daddy or heavenly atm! And then the thoughts cross my mind like "God's not real" or "life is what you make it" or "He doesn't care much" or "you're broke, you think he cares?". Things like that. And I dwell on these thoughts and I can feel Gods "realness" slipping through my fingers and I feel so...lost.

I went fishing with my cousin once at a pond near his house. The guy that owned the land stocked the pond with bass and my cousin always came home with fish. So we're standing on the bank casting my plastic worm with my new Zebco33 rod and reel combo and as I'm reeling it in BAM, something grabs the worm and off it goes and I whip the rod up and start to reel it in. Somewhere in my frantic reeling the line gets tangled up in the reel and not knowing what to do I start to back up in hopes of dragging the beast on shore (I knew it was bigger than the other fish we'd caught). So I'm backing up, walking along the bank until I run into a fence. With nowhere to go I grab the line and try to pull it in and I'd do it some and then it would slip back through my hands and I'd get a better grip and pull some more then lose ground. It hurt like crazy but there was no way I'd let it go. There was a big fish down there, I could feel him, sense him and he was mine. I just couldn't let go. And I didn't. I finally pulled him ashore and dove on top of him so he wouldn't flop back in. He didn't. Almost 8lbs.!!! Wahoooo!!!

So I'm washing my truck today and feeling frustrated because of no work or money and how I feel stupid asking Dad for money on account of how I ignore Him so often and how it makes Him look look that sugar daddy when I do pay Him mind. And I get down on myself because I know the most amazing, right and perfect thing anywhere. He's so pure. Like a fresh snowfall on a mountain pasture that is so beautiful and smooth and untouched. Breathtaking and refreshing. I don't know, how do you describe God? He's my Dad and He cares about me and He made such a great sacrifice because He does. Pure love. And yet I doubt. In times of trouble and distress I doubt. I wonder why he keeps me hanging. How is the outcome of my life any different than some pagan guy trying to make his way through life? I am such a wretch.

The phone rang today. Some lady I've worked for before wants me to come paint a couple of rooms next week. Not much money but it'll put food on the table and pay the light bill. "I love you you know" He says. "I'm watching and I care." Sigh. There have been times I've wanted to walk away and maybe in my luke warm way I have. Giving lip service but not really living. Sometimes I want to let Him go. But I can't. He's like my fish - I've got something big and mysterious, something special on the other end of this line. My hands are bloody and hurting from the fight but I wont let go. I can't let go. He is awe. He is pure. He is perfect. He is kind. He loves me. He's God. He's my Dad.

Merry Christmas. Again.

When I graduated high school my mom and dad offered me a choice of a graduation gift : a car or a bicycle. I chose a bicycle. I tell you this so you'll know this post is being written by an idiot.

Will moved in next door when I was about 14 and he was a real live hippy. Long hair, a beard and he said things like "righteous, cool and peace man". He rolled his own ...uuhhh...smokes. I liked him a lot. I think 'cause he had long hair. I couldn't have that on account of being my my dad's son and being Southern Baptist. Long hair was thrown in the same category as dancing, card playing and rock music. Video games were soon to be added to that list. Will's coolest thing though was his bike, one of those light weigh touring jobbies that cost over a $2000 and looked so sleek and way fast. He was in college and during one summer he and some of his friends loaded up their bikes, backpacks and their...uuhhh..smokes and headed to Europe to tour the countryside. That, was livin'. That, is what hippies do and why I aspired to be one.

A few day ago my friend David asked on Facebook "to me Christmas means..." . I love to answer questions like this but I was stumped. After last years disappointment I wasn't sure I knew and it called for some maybe painful and embarrassing introspection. I'm still workin' through this.

I chose a bike because 1) Will had one and 2) I loved to ride. Besides, I live at home and could use my moms car, a light blue 1978 Impala station wagon, any time I wanted. Which was only to go on dates. And you can imagine how many chicks wanted to go out with a guy driving a light blue 1978 Impala station wagon. Especially when they found out I turned down a car in favor of a bike....sigh. Maybe best if some gene pools end.....

One Saturday I set out on a bike ride out Millhopper road to where it ended, turn around and head back. 2, hours tops. I got to the end of the road and ate a snack under a big oak tree and began to wonder where this cross road went. Being weak due to the ride I went with curiosity rather than sound wisdom and headed south until this road dead ended into another road. Decision time. Go back or down this road I think goes back into town. What the heck, I'm having a good time and I feel good so off I go. For 8 hours! Yeah, I got lost. In Newberry, Archer and a part of Gainesville I've still never found again. I even stopped and visited a pastor friend but was too embarrassed to say I was lost and to ask for the way back home. Gene pool..... . At some point in this trek I wondered what I was doing, where I was going and was I even on the right road. Mostly though I was just peddling, moving from one stretch of road to the next without thought of time or my destination. Just peddling. I do remember feeling despair a time or two when I didn't know if I was on the right road or going the right direction but kept on going.

So here it is, Christmas, and our situation isn't much different from last year, little money and little work. Enough, but no extra which in America is the same thing as being poor, at least at Christmas time. But I'm ok with it. Well, not ok, but more ok than last year, I'm not depressed like back then. To answer my friend Davids question, for me, Christmas is about giving gifts, being with family and eating fatty foods, decorating, singing carols and shopping. I wish I were more spiritual man and could say it's all about Jesus, Gods gift to us but I don't treat Him any different now than other times of the year. That is to say I ignore Him a lot in my day to day walk and for that I'm ashamed. Last year I said things were going to be different in the coming year, for the things that mattered I'd be more focused, determined, blah blah blah. But it was mostly more of the same and I feel sad about that because I always want to be better and do better. Maybe this year.

So I'm sitting in the church meeting and I'm sitting on the floor singing with the kids and feeling like such a hypocrite. Like a man who cheats on his wife and looks her in the eye and says I love you. Sometimes I'm such a lover of this world or of myself and I come to the meeting and sing with everyone else about loving Jesus but I look in His eyes and I know He knows it's not true. And I just feel so awful and I want to cry and run out but I don't do that in church 'cause it's not normal. Anyway we're singing and the words say something about once being stained but but now we are clean (I don't remember the song) And He say's to me "You're pretty dirty from this last year aren't you? You've done some dumb and thoughtless things haven't you? Lazy, right? Mark, It's like you've been one one of your bike rides again and you just start moving and hope you get there. A thoughtless ride, a thoughtless life. A shameful son. I know that must feel awful and hard to live with and live with it you must, part of that reaping and sowing thing. But don't forget to live with this too son: you are clean and spotless before me. My gift to you. I knew you before and after your life, saw what you'd do and be, all of it, and said it then and say it now, I choose you! My gift to you is you are clean. Forever. I love you. So sing and be glad. Merry Christmas boy.

Thanks

I was thinking about You today which, as You know, is more rare than I want people to know, being a spiritual big-wig and all. Anyway, I was listening to that Nat King Cole version of The Christmas Song and it made me think of this time of year and how much I love it and also reminded me of last years Christmas and what a downer it was and I just started thinking about You and how despite what my life looks like at the moment You're always there. You just care about me. Your nature I guess. I wish I were more aware of You and more loving and grateful. I'm sorry I'm not. I think I love You, just hard sometimes for me to love someone I can't see. Just ask the ones I CAN see!

So I was thinkin' about stuff and and was impressed with what You've done to me and for me so I wanted to offer up thanks....

Despite being unlovable You loved me. Thanks.
You loved Your Son but sacrificed Him for me. Wow.
Not only did You redeem my spirit You gave me YOUR Spirit.
My behavior doesn't affect Your love Or Your Spirits work to make me like You.
You are kind beyond measure, especially to me.
You gave sight and sound to this once deaf and blind man.
You are love and You do even when I don't. Mystery.
There is something about You I can't let go of (though sometimes I try)
I have a family. They love me. YOU did that!
Some have much and are poor. I have little but am Yours and so am rich.
I do anything to live. You died so I could.
I'm kinda lazy. I'm so glad You're not.

I could go on I guess but I've lost the desire to sit here and type. You are so much more than my mind can type on the keyboard. It's the end of the year and looking back I'm disappointed in my performance. My hope and prayer is that in this next year my words, actions and thoughts will be so pleasing to You. You deserve much better of me and I sure hope that if I die this time next year I'll stand before You and You'll say "Dude! That was awesome!". In Your surfer voice. Thanks Dad. Later

Let It Out

Just a short note that ought to be longer but I just want to get something down before I forget, something that's happening with alarming frequency as I age. I watched "August Rush" this morning and was so touched. Not in the head. My heart. If you'd been a fly on the wall you'd have seen a guy smiling, whimpering or flat out crying at points in a movie. I've said before I well up in movies at all the wrong moments (my kids snicker) because I see God. His character, His kindness and love, in short, my Dad being Himself.

I've always wanted to play music, especially the guitar though Keith Green made the piano awful appealing. I used to pick up the nearest tennis racket or broom and jamb with my favorite songs. I don't do that any more. I use my sons guitar from his Rock Band video game. Feels good! No, I never learned for real to play anything but the radio and only that 'cause it was easy. I never developed the follow through needed to learn. I've said before, a good starter but lousy on the follow through. So now you'll see me singing worship and love songs, strumming on my imaginary guitar. I'd like to use my imaginary piano but it's too big to fit in the car. But inside me is this amazing musician that wants so badly to get out, out and play for his Dad. And I feel like it's close, like one day something will go "click" and magic happens. One day.

So in this movie is a kid, orphaned as an infant, is now 10 and he's looking for his dad and mom. He hears music in his head, music in his bones and if he follows it he'll reconnect with his parents. The kid has a gift. He IS the music, it's what's inside him and one day he picks up a guitar and just starts to play and it's beautiful. You gotta watch this scene. The kid was so full of joy and jumps off the screen at you. I sat there watching this scene in the movie and I was weeping and smiling soooo big! The music was out, that which he somehow knew was there all along was now free. And people gathered around and smiled so big and laughed and were in awe and were touched that the music was out. I can't tell you about the end, you'll have to watch for yourself.

So I see this movie and I'm so moved because I know I have this "music" in me, the song of my Father, a love song for me and for all who will listen. It's the tale of my lover and friend Jesus. And I'm so sad because for far too long I've not let the music out, the words out because I was scared that people wouldn't like me, that they would write me off as insignificant. And it has made for a sad life of mediocrity. But I see this movie and I just want to bust at the seams and let this song of Jesus out and it feels really close, like today maybe the "click" will happen and I'll be the stark raving Jesus freak I've always imagined I'd be. Oh Jesus may it be so!

Wasted education

When I was a young pup and newly married they told me I had to work and support my beautiful new bride and that if I didn't she'd drop me like a hot rock now matter HOW good looking I was. And I was!! Have you seen my hair from back then? So with fear and trembling I got a job at The Breakers Hotel and to this day I can't tell you why they hired me. (My Dad again). The first day they had me wait in the bosses outer office for 3 hours before they had me go scrape hardened scum off the pool pump room floor. Talk about make work. This went on for a year and a half but I had a chance to work with some old timers who were a wealth of knowledge about fixin' and building things. A priceless education.

Did you go to college? I did. I got good at ping pong and a beautiful wife out of the deal. Education? Aaahhh...not so much. I went 'cause my best friend Lou went, and because I wanted to be a youth minister. My wife say's "you didn't want to be a youth minister, you wanted to be a youth!". She has this way of beating around the bush... . I played a lot and studied little which was obvious to my professors and anyone who saw my report card before I stuffed it down a culvert. I loved Jesus and wanted to serve Him so I did what all little Baptist boys do who want to serve, I went to Jesus school.

I don't know, it's weird when you look back at your life and it's not at all like you imagined it might be when you started. But I look close and I so much see the hand of my Dad leading me. I've been like a blind man trying to walk on a winding path, always having to have Him reach out and grab me and pull me back onto the path. I started out thinking I'd study then speak with boldness to the masses only to learn I'm not smart (book smart that is) and can't teach to save my life (or any others). I DID learn though, that I could hammer a nail, change out a water pump and alternator, install a ceiling fan or paint a house. Not the education I had paid for but the one I needed.

I'm so tired of politics. I get this way at the end of every political season. So many mailers, commercials and posts on Facebook and Twitter. Passionate people thinking their brand of thinking will make this a better place. Yeah, maybe. Maybe not. It's really too big for me to think about. I'll vote 'cause I need to have a say but I feel like it doesn't matter because I'm just one little guy and government is, well, government. I think I can hold on...just a few...more...days....

I have a friend whom I love and admire so much but he probably doesn't know it. How would he though, I've never told him. Anyway , he's Ericson Frank and he has this group called Christians Concerned for the Community he's the director of and they do some amazing work for those in need. You know, the fixin' up kind of stuff. He posted some pictures on Facebook of a house they made over for some one. Repaired, painted, built a wheel chair ramp and so on. All volunteer. The owners seemed so happy and by the end, they knew Jesus cared and loved them. Nice

So I'm looking at all the political posts on Facebook and I just get tired. People can post, that's fine. Free country and all. But I wont read. Maybe because I don't think it matters. Or maybe I don't think Jesus really care's so why should I. I mean I do, just not that much. But then I stumble on pictures Ericson and friends as they repair these folks home and I smile so big. It's my Dad at work through those who love Him. Him governing HIS kingdom. I think that's the world I want to live in, one in which it doesn't matter who's runnin' the government. It doesn't matter of the rules are fair or not, that they favor one over another.I want to live in Ericsons world where those they serve know God favors THEM. I love those pictures. Those are the posts that change me. That bring me joy.

So I have this education, you know the one I didn't pay for, the one my Dad gave me to serve others. I've been pretty selfish with it. Probably should call the fellas over at CCC ( cccgainesville.org) and volunteer some time. What's a few hours a month? Probably a good way to share the hope that's within me.

There're probably not too many of you out there who've wasted your gift's and talents for too long like me but if you count yourself among those I'd like to say get busy. You've got things about you that can speak Jesus into someones life and it'd be such a waste if you didn't use them. And when you do, Twit or post some pictures. I know of one guy that feels good when he see's those.

tick - tock

One of the sweetest words in a workin' mans vocabulary is vacation. It is so awesome to get away. So I imagine. I haven't had one in I think 5 years. Maybe 4. I guess It's been too long if I can't remember. I haven't had a PAID vacation in 15 years! Oh the joy's of a small business owner.... . Let's hope for next year. Maybe I should plan rather than hope but that sounds kind of adultish. My wife can only hope...

I think there are two kinds of vacations: the restful kind and the play kind. The restful would be like a 2 week cruise up the Alaskan coast and the playful the Disney thing. One you come back recharged and the other you come back needing another week off. I combine the two. When we DO go on vacation we go to Maine to visit Terri's family. What a wonderful people and a slow, restful place but there is so much to do and see and I just can't get enough. I get up at 5:00 a.m. and hit the ground running, just doin' stuff. It's so dumb to get up that early especially on vacation but I feel like I don't want to miss a minute of what awaits me. And I milk every sweet moment of the day until I drop into bed, dead tired at midnight. 2 weeks of that and who wouldn't be worn out.

I got bad news from my mom a few days back. Said my cousin had died suddenly, probably a brain aneurysm. He was only 55. There was a day when I thought 55 was pretty old but now, yikes! I turned 47 a few days back and 55 doesn't seem that far off. Way too young to die. I wonder what he missed? I mean, we all have things we'd like to do in life, things we'd like to experience before taking the eternal dirt nap. Did he do all he had planned? Guess most of us don't get to do ALL we imagine but I sure would like to live long enough to give it a try.

I said I'm 47 now and I think I'm having this mid life crisis thing. Maybe not the full blown crisis. I haven't bought the convertible yet. Or run off with the milk man. Don't ask don't tell. I'm just not....satisfied. With what I can't put a finger on. Life feels good but not as good as it should have been. I am blessed with so much but I feel like one of those homeless guys pushing an old shopping cart down the street overflowing with stuff. Yeah, you've got stuff but dude, your pushing a shopping cart down the street. To where? To what end? To get more things in the cart?

Sometimes I feel alone and ashamed because I sit in church staring at the balding, graying heads of my peers and think they've got it together and wished I'd have listened to my elders when they said to make a 10 year, 20 year, 40 year plan for your life. Think about retirement. Think about your wife and kids. The grand kids. Your death. Your legacy. Don't just let life happen. Don't get to it tomorrow. Those tomorrows disappear like smoke. So I sit here and watch those balding pates nodding, some to the preachers words, some as they sleep through the words and I wonder. Are they happy with where they're at in life or they like me and are a little sad, knowing that life could have been....better. I do have a good life, only maybe not as good a one as I should have had. Never too late though.

Now I find myself as one of these old (er) men who want to say to the young "make a plan, find out what's important and build your life around it. Serve those around you. Your wife. Your kids. Make the time. Take those playful vacations and those slow peaceful ones. Make sure to every day love them. Serve and love your neighbor. Your sisters and brothers. Go on those mission trips. Make plans. And do them. Take care of your body, exercise and eat your veggies, you have to last a long time. And it does seem like a long time when you're 25 but in a very few days you'll be 47 and saying where did it go?" Yeah. That's what I want to say. Life is a vapor and if we aren't careful we'll have spent it ignorant busyness serving a cunning viper instead of purposely loving voluminous God. Sorry. That last part sounded kinda preachery. You get the idea.

He's here but He's not here.....

Still stumbling......

When I was a kid I loved to play hide and seek and I was GOOD at it. My mom and dad's back yard was a perfect place to play it because it had lots of bushes, trees and structures (read : junk) to hide behind or in. It was always a point of pride to hear the hunter say I give up. Happened with me all the time. Like I said, I was good. And on the rare occasion when I was found I was fast and made it to base without being tagged. Good times.

I like playing hide and seek with my grandson. He's 3. He's easy to find which means I win. Feels good. Yeah, I know, he's only 3 but..... . He'll go in the bed room and call out "come and find me but I'm not in the bedroom". Easy win. I go in and there's this big lump under the sheets and I'll look every where but there and say "well, I guess he's not here, I better go..." and a voice from the bed say's "you didn't look under the sheet". "Oh, no I didn't. Well that's just a pillow under there" "No it's not" the bed says. As I approach he erupts from under the sheets and attacks me like the monster he is. Like I said, easy win.

There's a scene in the 2nd Rambo movie where he's being hunted in the jungle by a group of soldiers and silently, one by one he's killing them off. One of them is standing by a mud covered hill scanning all around him when the mud opens it's eyes and reaches out with this huge knife and guts the guy. Amazing. I say amazing because he was in plain sight right next to the guy but couldn't be seen. Standing next to someone and not being seen. Now THAT'S hiding!

We had a mens meeting at church. Breakfast and conversation, some games and teaching. A good time. I guess. I can only guess because I left after a while. Didn't say bye or nothing, just left. I felt like you feel at a party when you don't really want to be there and you really don't have much to say and you feel like the wallflowers at the high school dance who sit in their chair until mommy comes to pick them up. My mommy is in Louisville until the end of this month and I couldn't wait that long for her so I left on my own. I think I wasn't in the mood for fun -n- fellowship.Yeah. I'm weird. I think I just wanted to go back to my hiding place. My oldest daughter Kara was maybe 3 when I tried to explain God and how He's everywhere, even right in this room but you just can't see Him. She thought for a moment and said "He's here but He's not here, right?" Uuuhh...right. Hiding in plain sight.

So my life's been at best, fair this year with a few bright spots along the way to keep me moving. I have good things going for me and am really taken care of by my Dad. But I've had a lot of day to day struggles that have turned me from happy-go-lucky to kind of a sad sack type of guy who some days just barely makes it through. I don't know, maybe I don't pray or read scripture enough, love my neighbor as myself or brush and floss enough. Maybe that's the way of things at times in life and you have to just make it through by gritting your teeth and just do it. I feel like I'm the only one who feels like this. Which is why I hide I think. Don't want to burden anyone with a life mundane.

I've learned that if you show up and smile people think life's grand. That's how I hide. Smile and crack a few funnies and ask a few questions. I'm here but I'm not here. Then I leave, sneak out when nobody's lookin' so they don't have a chance to ask too many questions of me and find out how sad life can be sometimes. I think I feel like people will start to say "oh-oh, here comes Mr. Woe Is Me, smile and wave, just smile and wave....". It's just my imagination but sometimes that can pretty powerful. It makes me want to hide.

I know there are people out there in the same place in life as I am this year. I even think I know who a few are. I've not made much of an effort to find your hiding place. Kinda hard to if I wont get out of mine. I'm so sorry. All I can say is hold on. I'm about to come out of my spot, maybe, and you can take my hand and we can get found together.

Riveting

I like to watch skyscrapers being build and I remember footage of the Empire State Building being built and the thing I was amazed with is the men walking on the steel girders hundreds of feet above the ground - no safety belts, no safety nets! Real men. I was amazed watching the men rivet the girders together. One would toss a red hot rivet to another guy who jammed it in a hole and another guy would put a rivet gun on it and pound it home. They were so fast. No fear, like they were standing on solid ground. I don't think they do it that way now but back in the day that's how you joined two different pieces of steel together. That hot rivet being pounded in with such force caused the two to become as strong as if it were one piece.


I went to bed early the other night which is against my rule as an adult. When I was a kid my mom made me go to bed at 8:00, weekends too! Seriously? 8:00? I hated it and vowed that when I grew up I'd never go to bed early. She was so unfair. I was so glad when I graduated. Yep, all grown up. Now I stay up as late as I want. Later than I want 'cause now I WANT to go to bed at 8:00. Don't you hate being old?

Actually, as an parent I love the idea of the kids going to bed early. Home at 5, feed 'em , play with 'em, bath 'em, read a book and in the sack at 8:00. We did that for quite a while but when my son started shaving he said he thought he could probably handle the rest too. sigh... . Well now they are up 'till all hours and WE have to go to our room at 8:00! Payback. I'll be glad when they're gone. Then I wont have to worry about being caught in my tighty whities during my 2 a.m. snack run! I think the 2 a.m. snack run is why my whities is tighty.

I think I talked myself into a bad mood 'cause my wife didn't wife like the books say's my wife should wife. Don't you hate that guys? You finally read the book and it makes sense, " put tab "A" into slot "B", connect blue wire to terminal and PRESTO your wife will....." only she doesn't. Makes me wish wives were like a Chrysler. Troubles yes but once you've fixed it you always know what to do to fix it again. Women? Not so much. A splendid mystery.

So we were having a , uh...discussion, and I didn't like the answer or where the conversation was headed (I really don't remember) so I did what a lot of guys do. I ran away. And went to bed. At 8:00. None of that take the bull by the horns and solve the issues for me. No sir. I come from the take your ball and go home people. So I did. Weak.


We are reading a book together and one of the chapters talks about differences in personalities (like she's a talker, he's a wallflower, He's a morning person, she's a night owl, etc...) and how to see them as necessary qualities to make you stronger, not something to drive you apart. Nice to know. Sometimes hard to achieve. It's kind of like riveting those two pieces of steel together- sometimes I get this red hot rivet jammed into my life and it gets pounded into place and it hurts. And I just want to run away. Or go to sleep. But I don't. Well, I did but YOU don't! You are becoming one, a stronger piece with your spouse and if you don't endure the hardship you are weaker for it and you may collapse and pull down those who are connected to you.

I love my wife and I'm so much the better person because of her. There's a line from a movie that ought to go here, "You complete me" or "You had me at hello" or something like that. Just how I feel. I have a good life, far better than I deserve and I'm thankful. My Dad is so nice to me. I'm not always glad for the work He does in me but know it's necessary. He loves me. I'm His boy! I hope to someday grow up to be just like Him.

Sometimes

Sometimes I just sit here in front of the screen with my fingers poised over the keys expecting magic to pour out of my brain (hasn't happened in 46 years but I'm an optimist). I feel so much emotion inside and think if I could just write about it it would feel like you feel when you've held your breath under water as long as you could and you come up for that first sweet taste of air. But I got nothing. Or maybe I've got too much. So many thoughts buzzing around I can't latch on to one to write about. I have things I'd like to say but just can't. Boundaries. So I think for now I'm gonna stop writing. Work my way out of my funk, get happy and start over. Bye for now.

Couldn't care less......

I was just lonely tonight and wished I had a friend to talk to. Life's been a bit of a downer of late, one of those hard parts of life momma and daddy told me there would be. Having a hard time loving my wife . My kids. My neighbor. A hard time at my 9 to 5. Less hair and more weight. Out to lunch sign on Gods door. Sigh.......

I've noticed my blogs have a woe is me tone to them. Like my life is full of problems and I just whine and complain. I guess maybe. I really am at heart a happy person and try to be content no matter the situation but sometimes life just gets to you. And in those times I wish I had someone to talk to or go bowling with and I was just lamenting that I had no one like this. I have lots of friends just no ....friends.

I think a lot about calling friends just to chat for just a minute, to make sure they're ok but I never pick up the phone. I figure they're too busy. We all are right? Yep. Just too busy. I let myself get so busy that I can't "encourage one another" like the writer of Hebrews says "so that we aren't hardened by sins deceitfulness". I think I've been hardened. Maybe that's the wrong word. Maybeeee....changed. Changed from who I was or was becoming into being something useless. Like salt that's lost it's saltiness. Just what the world needs.

So many great and wonderful things and people are here because of problems, times of hardship and difficulty. Is there anyone great that didn't have to cross that bridge of failure and discouragement? Out of the ashes of so many failures and heart break have risen great men and women who have changed the world and I wonder if there had been no one there to pick them up and dust off their clothes and said "go get 'em" would the world be worse off? Or how much better would the world be if those who would have been great fell into obscurity because no one smiled and offered a hand up. We never know do we?

Some days I get it right, some not so much. I think most days I'm just lost in my ADHD hazed mind and don't care much. I want to, I just don't. Maybe this goes away when I get older. When does older start? I guess what I'm saying is I want to care. About my Dad. My wife. My kids. You. Pray for me. I'll pray for you. If I learn to care.

Missed It By That Much

I have an agreement with the airlines that if I don't show up when I say I will they should just go on and leave without me.

My Dad has an agreement with me that He'll give me opportunities to raise my kids but that if I don't show up He'll let time move on without me.

I'm a daydreamer. I watched a movie in my youth group many moons ago about this kid who was supposed to do something for God and he was daydreaming he was in front of a crowd of people preaching his heart out and they were swooning and raising their hands and shouting AMEN as hundreds came to the alter to get saved. By the end of the movie though he was a janitor pushing a mop and telling a lonely kid about Jesus. Doing what God wanted. Just didn't have the same panache as the big time preacher dream.

I wanted to be a big time preacher and make the people swoon. No skills. I had the painting skills, fixing skills, ninja skills, driving skills. No teaching skills. Like Maxwell Smart used to say: "Missed it by that much".

I saw another movie last night that made me cry. To Save A Life was the title. About a high school kid whose friend committed suicide. He felt awful. In his quest to find out why, he got saved, took God serious and didn't miss the opportunity to stop someone from doing the same thing. He DIDN'T miss it by that much. I know it was just a movie but I love it when God shows up and does stuff. Makes me cry.

Sometimes I don't show up. Show up for those divine appointments I hear so much about. Too busy looking for that large crowd to preach to. My life is so full of missed chances to make my Dad look good. To make better the lives of my wife, kids, neighbors, homeless or whoever I meet. I think I cry because I feel a little smaller for missing so much.

Today was a good day after a hard couple of weeks. Sometimes my life is just a mess. But tomorrow is a new day that I'm trying to look forward to. To take God serious. A day of a new start, new possibilities. A new chance to love and honor My Dad. He is good. His word is good. His desire for me is Great. I will show up for Him.

Sears Roebuck

You know what I miss? The Sears Roebuck catalog. 4 lbs. and 500 pages of stuff. Stuff I needed. Hey, what ever happened to Roebuck? I remember checking the mail, walking across the street and pulling open the box and lo and behold there it was, wrapped in that plain brown sleeve. I scooped it up and ran to my room and locked the door and opened to that "special" section. You guys know what I'm talking about. Page after page, posed just so and I couldn't take my eyes off. Nice curves and lines, so beautiful, alluring, strong and so desirable. I'd seen other men with them and I was so jealous and remember vowing someday I would have them. All of them. I loved those Craftsman tools. Still don't have ALL of them. Yet.

Have you ever felt trapped? Not like a bear trap but like in a bad marriage, bad job, bad finances, debilitating sickness? I wonder if Bernie Madoff felt trapped? I bet he did. At some point he had to know it would all come crashing down but sometimes you go so far down the road that you just CAN'T turn around. Too hard. Someone has to turn you around and so they did with him. I've been down that road too only without the money.

I would sit for hours and start with page one and imagine this big house that I'd have and would be sharing it with one of those ladies in the "other" section (which, by the way mom, I never looked at. I only heard about it from my brother) and I would start filling it with everything imaginable, from shoes (yeah, funny I know) to baby cribs to king size beds. I spent hours lusting after the things of this world. Ok. Yes. Every section. I imagined quite a life for myself. The only good thing I got from my imaginings was a beautiful wife. Not from the catalog though. You can't get the best from there. You have to shopping in person. Definitely worth the effort. The rest of the stuff, not so much. Turns out you need money which, by the way, they shoulda mentioned on the first page in bold print.

There's a part of me that wants to be rich. The Sears catalog part. Maybe not rich but well off. And then there's the part that of me that thinks it's a shame to have a bunch of money when others in my life have such great need. I really don't know which one is right. Jesus must know but I think He's busy. Raising money for Joel Osteen.

I love it when somebody I know gets a new car. I like the smell. Or when they get that new plasma tv. The games look great. I keep thinking I'm content with what I have but then someone gets a new something and then I'm not. Think I'll try to surround myself with broke friends. Might work. But I know my heart.

I've never played the lottery. Afraid I might win. Then what?

I am a Christian and I want to act like a christian. Be like Jesus. Walk around talking to my Dad, meeting others needs be it money, healing, encouraging words or an introduction to my amazing Dad. Well, I say I want to but mostly I don't. I do do the right things some but I know I don't do enough. I just finished a book called "Will Jesus Buy Me A Double-Wide" in which is story after story of people who gave up the Sears catalog to help those in need. They make Dad look so good. I cried through the book because I want to do it too.

I don't have much money, barely making it by sometimes. So many things we need but I'm so grateful for what we have. We just always seem to be behind or have just enough and I don't have the time or resources for other people. Including my own family at times. I feel so....trapped. Do you ever feel that way? I chose a life of mediocrity some where along the line and I don't know how or where to start to get on the narrower road. sigh. When I started my business I wanted to take a day a week to paint, build, rake or whatever for some who couldn't. Do it with my kids. And I could have. But I didn't. And I don't. Because in my heart are the many pages of the Sears Roebuck catalog.

Hook, Line and Sinker

Fish feel very comfortable when I'm on the water with a pole......

My in-laws live in Maine, the most beautiful state in the union bar none. I love to go there. Mostly for the people but the scenery is amazing, especially in Deer Isle, where the fam is. One thing they don't tell the tourists, especially the ones from Florida is that the water is cold. I've walked in it up to my ankles and my legs started turning blue! There are people that actually swim in it. On purpose! I did once. not on purpose. My father-in-laws boat is anchored in Sylvesters Cove and you have to row a john boat out to reach it. My brother-in-law said drop the anchor which I did....without tying it to the boat. Who knew you had to do that? And why wasn't it tied already? I may have been 'punked. Was told I had to go get it so over I went and...."I can't breath". Which is natural if you're under water but I was still above it! The water was so cold it took my breath away and as I dog paddled I wondered if I should ask to be shot with the spear gun or have them let me drown. I got the anchor, thank you very much. Like I said, the fish had no worries....

I taught kids in church this week. Jonah. He had problems with fish too. I think I read the story for the first time in 35 years. I've told the story many times but I've not read it in a long, long time. It turns out Jonah didn't have a fish problem at all. He had a Jonah problem.

I love the phrasing of Jonah 1:1 "go preach against Nineveh because their wickedness has come up before me". Can't you see God sitting at His desk with a phone to His ear (a rotary phone 'cause this was before cell phones), looking over some papers as an angel walks in and hands Him a folder. He stares at it, His lips moving as He silently reads and He says "I gotta let you go Jesus, I need to call Jonah. This city of Nineveh situation just came before Me....."

I like to fish, I just don't know how or I just don't, for some probably selfish reason, do what I know to do. Like so many things in my life, if I don't get quick results I quit . I like to go fishing with my daughter Holli. I like it because we get to spend time with each other but I just wish we caught something. I was talking to the son of one of my customers and he was telling me of his haul from a local pond. 5 bass over 5lbs. each! Jerk. We'll keep trying.....

It's amazing to me the stupid people God uses. Did Jonah REALLY think he could get on a boat and sail away from God? Adam tried to hide. He might have gotten away with it but he answered a question when God asked it. Oops. Don't think he got the hide part in hide n seek thing yet. So because of his actions Jonah brought a storm into not only his own life but the life of others and it cost them everything (they threw it overboard). Being stupid he told them HE was the problem and to throw him over. Really? Would you have said that? I'da pointed and said Frank did it....

So he get's the first submarine ride. He's swallowed by a fish which is disaster in a disaster and the end of this insanity. Here is where I read something I'd forgotten. God sent the fish. Not exactly the salvation one envisions. It doesn't say how long he was in the water, minutes, hours, who knows. Long enough to pray for God to save him(2:2). Which He did. Which brings me to the point I had no idea I was trying to make when I started typing: Sometimes God's rescues are disasters and it's only the passage of time and the gaining of perspective that we understand it was a rescue.

I've found myself in terrible places in life because of my own actions and at some point I'll repent and make nice with Dad only to find myself in a bigger hole. I guess sometimes that's His way. His salvation. What I'm supposed to do is pay attention to what He's doing or what I think He's doing and rejoice that He cares and grit my teeth and move forward with Him. It's what I'm SUPPOSED to do but often don't. Why? Because I'm dumber than a sack of hammers. But I'll not give up. Because He doesn't. I want to be like Jonah- to be able to worship my Dad in the midst of my hardship. Because He is God!

Boo Hoo

I seem to have a feminine side. Or maybe I'm just a wuss. That's what my friends said growing up. I cry a lot. Ok, not a lot but my fair share at emotional times which is why I like to see chick flicks 'cause there's usually a point I can let loose. One of my favorites is Sleepless in Seattle. I've seen it a lot and EVERY time Tom Hanks (Sam) and Meg Ryan (Annie) meet at the top of the Empire State Building I cry. My heart starts to beat faster when she leaves her fiance at Windows on the World restaurant in the World Trade Center (which is weird now) to go to the Empire State Building, traffic is bad, will she make it? He's rushing to the top to find his son (Jonah)? Will he be there? His son has looked for her fruitlessly all day. Will he leave? Sam gets to the top and,whew, Jonah's there. They head for the elevator. "What are you doing?" my heart says! "Don't go, she's on the other elevator!". I'm always afraid there'll be a rip in the space/time continuam and the movie will some how change and they'll miss each other.Hey, it could happen. So he gets on and the door closes as hers opens and my heart breaks 'cause they missed each other but wait, after an unbearably long time (20 seconds) "ding" goes the elevator, he steps out, walks to the viewing area and they see each other and "poof", it's love! By this time I'm boo- hooing like, well, a girl.


I used to cry in the Adventures in Oddesey radio programs put out by Focus on the Family. Do yourself a favor and listen to them. God speaks.

I think the main reason I cry in movies or while listening to a certain song is I see my Dad. Or His character. His love and kindness are so apparent sometimes even in things that weren't meant to show it. I am just watching and He says "Hey, look, that's Me" and I cry.

At the end of Lord of the Rings there's a part I just well up and can't hold back the tears. You just have to watch for 10 hours to get to it. It's the part where Aragorn is crowned king and as he walks through the people they bow to him, giving honor to the king. As he moves the crowd parts and he stands before the Frodo , Sam, Merry and Pippin , they start to bow and Aragorn says "My friends, you bow to no one". Then he gets on one knee and bows to them and as the camera pans out you see everyone bow as well. By this time I'm sniffling, trying to hold it in if I'm watching with the family ( they always watch me instead of the movie 'cause it's funny to watch dad implode) or just let it all out if I'm alone. Weak. The thing is, I'm not quite sure why I cry here. No one else does. Something in my spirit I guess. Some day I'll know.

There is another movie I cry at. I've actually helped make it. I haven't seen it yet but I know what's in it and I love the actor. He's me. The story of my life wouldn't make much money but might make a good sleep aid.

I haven't had a bad life, quite good in fact compared to many around the world. Too many blessing to recount here and for all of those I an so thankful to my Dad. It's the actor in my life I'm disappointed with. He's lazy and selfish and isn't committed to much but his own comfort. This isn't a bash Mark thing just an honest assessment. I'm a good guy. I have a lot of good qualities and talents, gifts Dad has given me to use for His purpose and glory and I'm happy to use them. Sometimes.

It's those sometimes that bother me though. It bothers me that it's not all the time. And it's in the all the times between the sometimes that I get an understanding of myself. And it's so disappointing. I'm shy and quiet (true) and don't like to take risks. I want ME to be nice and comfy.I don't want to be embarrassed or hurt or thought less of so many times, I do nothing. Shame. I feel like Corporal Upham in Saving Private Ryan (another tearjerker) who let the German soldier up the stairs that killed his fellow soldier. We never know what our inaction leads to do we? I wish I were a better me. I wish I loved my Dad with my whole heart. I have wasted so much time. I'm working that direction though and don't plan to give up. You don't either. Sometimes though, I wish I had someones hand to hold.

I think I know why I cry in Lord of the Rings. It's out of sadness. In 1 Samuel 2:30 God said "I will honor those who honor me". I picture myself in Frodos place and the King stands before me and I want to hear Him say "Well done my good and faithful servant, you honored me and now I honor you" and He takes a knee. But I bow my head and weep in shame 'cause I know it's not true. I was so luke warm. And I weep with gratitude because I stand before my King as a spotless bride because of one who DID love Him and gave himself for Him. I just want to be like Jesus.

Rain Drops and River Rocks

I love a good rain storm. A few years ago we had 3 or 4 hurricanes come through Florida, two of which cut a good size swath through Gainesville. They did a fair amount of damage but not at our house. Well, we had a tree come down but it was already dying so it saved us the $300 to have it taken out. Thanks Dad. The coolest part was sitting on the front porch and watching the wind just whip the trees around. Amazing! Playing in the rain is a blast too! Love to stand in the pouring rain and be pelted with 70 mph rain or watch the streets turn to rivers. Weird I know but I'm a man of child like pleasures.

We were recently traveling through Georiga and a good stretch of their interstate is concrete instead of asphalt like here in Florida. There were places where it was under construction and they had these cranes and bulldozers and huge machines used to pour and smooth the concrete. I'd love to pull over and watch. Much more fun to sip iced tea and watch others work. The best thing, I think, about concrete highways are the expansion joints in the road. You know, as you drive over them you get that ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk sound, like the road has a rhythm to it.It can put you to sleep. Bad if you're driving but awesome if you have fussy kids in the back. They hate being in the trunk.

The Peaks of Otter are in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Bedford, Va. and we used to go visit 'cause we had relatives in Bedford. Climbing the mountain was fun but the thing we looked forward to the most was the picnic at the base of the mountain. And we loved it because there was a stream to play in. It had hundreds of smooth and round rocks and boulders to walk on and if you lifted the rocks sometimes you'd find crawdads. Those boogers were quick but if slowly put your hand over them you might catch one. Once you did though you were like the dog who caught the car he was chasing, "what do I do with this?". I don't know why but mom always said "you can play at the creek but don't get wet". Yeah, It was worth the spanking.

I sometimes pressure wash driveways and some are easier to clean than others. New ones are easy because they are smoother whereas the older ones have cracks and crevices. Lots of little stones and holes the surface for dirt to hide in and around. It used to be smooth but rain drops have one by one warn away the cement in driveway. Or they've watered a near by tree whose roots have grown under and cracked the driveway. Amazing how something so small can in time have such a big effect. Same thing with the river rocks. A small rain drop fall on the mountain and meets with others in the stream and over time shape the stream and the rocks in it. Neat.

I think I've wasted a lot of my life. Maybe we all can say that. Or some of us. Ok, just me. I've pursued so much that didn't matter and with little effort the things that do. Makes me sad. Part of it is that I didn't think I made much of a difference. I'm just a little rain drop of a man whose work is...small. The thing I love about those road building machines is you can stand there and in a fraction of time see them create something big and amazing that everyone loves and uses. I'm no bulldozer. I'm a drop. And that's ok even though I don't like it. We can't all be the big machine. We can't all be Billy Graham. I don't know. Maybe we're the drip that introduced Billy to Jesus. I have some friends who are moving soon. They're not Billy. They're just people who loved God and enjoyed being His child. Being His small drop. They are a big drop in my world. I'm glad to know them. Gonna miss 'em.

I am so grateful for my life, that my Dad chose me to be His son. I'm sorry I've not been a better one. But I'm determined to be the best drop I can, to be at the right place at the right time to affect whatever He puts before me. Please know you're not a drip, but a drop of His creation with a purpose and an intention. "We are His workmanship, created for good works in Christ. He calls us to offer up ourselves a living sacrifice". I AM important and hope to live that way. You are too. My prayer is that we live in such a way as to refresh our world. Refresh it with a drop of Living water.

I am Gollum

The coolest thing to happen during the school year as a kid was the fire drill. A couple times a year the bells would start ringing and the teacher would say something like "Oh goodness me the fire bells are ringing. Class, in an orderly and quietly manner line up at the door". Right. Amongst chaos and screaming we bolted out the door and ran to the play ground and stood around for a half and hour while they made sure the building was empty. Uhuh. Yeah. Only half the teachers came out to watch over us. The other half were in the teachers lounge smoking cigarettes and passing around the bottle of "Mr. Happy". That's why we had 2 fire drills, so the other half got their shot. Good to be a teacher.

I really did get evacuated once. Not a fire drill but a real live bomb scare. I guess it was a scare 'cause nothing went off. Bummer. How great would THAT have been ?!? On opening night of Raiders of the Lost Ark we were 10 minutes into the movie when the movie stopped and the lights came on and the manager ran down front and said "There's a bomb in the building. In an orderly and quiet manner line up.....". He must have been a former teacher. The place was soon swarming with police and firemen yelling " Please move away from the building to the back of the parking lot". Yep. " In an orderly and quiet manner". Authority. We finally did get to see the movie.

I'm sad today. Sorta. I've been confronted with something again that I haven't changed about myself and I feel like I never will. Though I want to. But not really. Jesus was talking to this guy who had a bunch of stuff and told him to sell it, give the money to the poor and follow Him. The guy said " bummer " and walked away sad 'cause he had so much. He was so close.

I liked the third Indiana Jones movie the most. Sean Connery is the best. The part of the movie I was thinking about today was at the end where they'd discovered which cup Jesus drank from. There was this earthquake and the ground split apart and the cup fell down the hole and landed on a ledge. The lady (Elsa?) dove for the cup and ended up hanging by one hand over the abyss. As she was reaching and stretching for the cup Indy tried to get her to ignore it and grab onto his hand so she could be pulled to safety. She kept reaching for the cup. It meant wealth. And Power. In the end, it cost her too much.

I'm reminded of another movie where someone had something of such value it consumed him. The best CG character of any movie. Gollum. He had this ring and it was so precious to him he forgot about all else, including his own self. Really, he forgot, or ignored, right or wrong and pursued the ring no matter what it cost him. Or others. In the end he did get what he wanted and we watched as both burned into oblivion.


My friend Scott turned me on to this preacher named David Platt today. I'm so blown away and sad. He talked about being so in love with God. Sold out. So much so that the things I can get and have are meaningless compared with knowing Him. So much so that my love for my wife and kids looks like hate. What's that about? I've not been down that path. That's what makes me sad. I fear I never will. I'm so in love with the ring.

When I was in college I wanted to be like that. Maybe I was. Kinda. Sorta. My friend Scott was. And others. I thought of the American Dream as a nightmare. A wife.The house. The garage with 2 cars and bikes for my 2.5 children. My 401k and trips to Disney. Retirement package and a VCR (this was the 80's). All good stuff. Great stuff. All ok things to have unless I hate it in comparison to my love for my Dad.All ok unless I'm not willing to sell it, give the money to the poor and follow my Dad.

Life is subtle. It has a way of sneaking up on you and passing you by before you know it. And one day you wake up and you're the rich young ruler and you wont go where you're led. 'Cause you have a lot of stuff. I am that man. I'm not rich, or young (ooooohh that hurts) or a ruler but I play one on the TV of my life. And I've taught my kids this which is the saddest part for me because I can't have a do over. I've burdened them and others with a life of mediocrity and self love.

Every day is a new day. I pray I have the chance to wake up tomorrow and love my Dad so much that others feel left out in comparison. I hope I will. I hope and pray I'll find someone who'll do it with me. Because I don't know how. Because I'm scared. That's tomorrow. Tonight, I go to bed knowing I've fallen in love with a ring. Tomorrow I hope it's my Dad. Tonight though,I know who I am. I am Gollum.

puttin' it together

Captain Jack Tate was a fighter pilot in world war II who shot down 13 German fighters. On March 23rd 1945 he and his wing man Captain Ted "Butternut" Thornton were patrolling the sky's west of Berlin when they encountered 4 German Me262's streaking across the horizon. They gave pursuit and engaged them in a dog fight. As they had the element of surprise they quickly shot down two before things got tough.Taken out of play due to a stuck throttle control captain Thornton could only watch as the Me262's got on Capt. Tates tail and began blasting away. Try as he might Capt. Tate couldn't shake them and in the end his P-51 exploded in a ball of fire as it crashed into the earth. Capt. Thornton say's he'll never forget Capt. Tates final words: " Oh god oh god she's gonna blow. Chunk it now! Chunk it now!"

Did you have hobbies as a kid? You know, like stamp collecting, wood burning,beads? I like to build models. Like airplanes, ships, cars and the like. WWII airplanes were my favorite. There was something majestic and sleek about them. And lots of fire power. And bombs. I went to the mall as a kid and they had this display, kind of a show of peoples crafts and hobbies. Glass blowing and wooden knick-knacks, flower arrangements and so on.A group of folks had a display of models they had built. I can't make words come out of my mouth that could explain how real those airplanes looked. Just awesome! They ruined me.

My dad was a typewriter repairman, one of the best. He had so many tools he used to fix those machines. I was always envious of those things. I love tools. I sometimes wonder if I went into business for myself so I would have a reason to buy tools. My dad set me up with a set of tools to build models with. Small files, clamps, pliers, tweezers and so on. I was so enamored with them. They ruined me.

It was so exciting to get a new model. I would look at the box for a long time then open it up and look at all the parts in the box and imagine them going together just so. In my minds eye I'd see this airplane hanging from a thread over my bed. Sweet! I begin to assemble the model with care, paying close attention to each small detail, getting it just right. Back in the day we didn't have superglue so I had to wait overnight for the glue to dry. Which is not good when you're 12 and have no patience. So I would begin to mess with it before the glue was dry and some of the parts would move. Then they wouldn't quite fit right. I'd not pay attention and glue the right part in the wrong place. I'd get in a hurry and not follow the directions, just doing what seemed right. So, what I ended up with is a plane that looked like it was put together by, well, a 12 year old.

There is no Capt. Jack Tate. And not because he died in a plane crash. When I made a model airplane that didn't turn out so well I would have to find a way to get rid of it and what better way than to blow it up with a fire cracker. So I'd put a fire cracker in it and my friends and I would make up a story, fly it around, light it and "oh god, oh god, she's gonna blow. Chunk it now! KA-BLAM!!!!

I think here was my problem. I saw at the mall the possibility of what my plane could look like. And my dad gave me the tools to work with. And I had the instructions. And I knew how to do it. Sort of.I'm a great starter and a great ender but it's the middle parts I have trouble with. When things don't go as well as I'd like them to I start to hurry thru, not paying attention to the details the make all the difference. I get discouraged and become shoddy. I do enough to make it "look like an airplane" but I'm not happy with it. And I just want to quit, blow it up and start over.

My life is like that sometimes. Start something good but end up blowing it up. Marriage, fatherhood, jobs and so on.... . It's that mushy middle part I have a hard time with. And that part is so important and it's the part I can't, you can't, ever give up on. It's hard sometimes and it seems like forever until the "glue dries" and you can move on to the next thing. Because there's a right way. I've got to follow the instructions, use the tools, and make a amazing airplane. And maybe someday I'll get to stop a brother or sister from lighting that fuse on their model and show them a better way...

I will fight through. Will you?

Tool Man

"What time is it?....Tool time! And here he is, Tim the Toooool Maaaaan Taylor!" Didn't you love that show? So funny and always had a good point. I think my marriage is better for it. "You can learn a lot from a dummy". I could so relate to the tool angle of the show. And really, what guy can't because we all love our tools. Doesn't matter if it's a saw and hammer or iphone and a laptop, we gotta have 'em, bigger and better and "more power". I tell people I got into construction because I wanted to buy tools. I say it with a smile but on some level it's the truth.

My dad had some nice tools but as kids we played with them and lost them. Criminal. I'm a little obsessive compulsive. A couple of years ago I bought a new set of pliers and wrenches so the grips would match. And they're all hung nice and neat on my pegboard. According to size. With the outline drawn around them. Mr. Monk would be proud. I was looking in a wood working magazine years ago and saw the absolute best tools. This man had this amazing little shop in his back yard with all the tools and it was set up so perfectly. He had a little office and behind his desk, hung on the wall were all these old tools from the 1800's or early 1900's. Antiques. But they were beautiful. They had that solid, rugged look of tools meant to last no matter how much or how hard the use. Rusted, dirty and scarred from years of good use. They were quality. They were of such value. I have one tool like that, an old pipe wrench about 90 years old. Some day I'm going to have a wall to hang it on. And others like it

We went to a little college reunion this weekend to see people we hadn't seen in over 20 years. I was a little nervous. Afraid I wouldn't know what to say. Afraid I wouldn't measure up. (I don't but we don't have to tell them that. I told 'em I was a surgeon.). They went to college and spent 4 years learning the knowledge and wisdom of the ancients, fell in love with their sweetheart, got married, got a high dollar job, moved to a dream home with their 2.5 children and they ride in the lead car at the 4th of July parade every year. Me? Not so much. I followed the "make every mistake" path. Isn't that how we imagine things though,some times? The truth is, nobody has a straight path. Between being a senior and a senior citizen there's this thing called life, full of twists and turns, dead ends and wrecks. A lot of beauty too! It's just that the beauty is all we think there is when we leave college.

It's nice to see my friends lives haven't been perfect. That sounds bad doesn't it? Nobody wants to hear of bad things in others lives and I ache when I hear of someones misfortune or hardship. I guess it some how makes me feel...normal? Truth is life is hard and we all endure disappointment and hardship. Some by Gods design, some because we reap what we sow. Some caused by others. Some because "It rains on the just and the unjust". What inspires me though is to see my Dad in those situations. He is so good. As I talked to my brothers and sisters this weekend, about the ups and downs of life, I saw Him. His work. His tireless devotion. their willingness to trust Him. These are such good people and they are loved.

Diane was there. I was so excited to learn she was coming. I remember she was so full of joy and had a spirit of adventure. And she's still got it. She made me feel valuable in college. I am so grateful. She had 2 really nice kids with her. Her husband couldn't make it. Hear he's great. I wished we'd had more time this weekend to connect.

I "re-met" David. I knew him back then but I don't think we said much. Kind of a "hey, hows it goin' " thing. I like David a lot. He's dealt so well with the challenges put before him in life. He's smart and wise has that "go get 'em" attitude. The kind of guy you'd want as a next door neighbor and friend. Dependable and caring. He loves God. And he has 3 boys he raising up and they're going to change their world. I hope we meet again.

My old room mate and his wife, Bruce and Sheila were there. They did so much work to put this event together. They seem good that way. Facilitators and doers. Boy, talk about a curving path through life but they've met every challenge, twist and turn with faith, wisdom and a open heart to what God was doing. They seem to have done so much right. I think their kids will have such an advantage over most in their world. Bruce and Sheila make a difference. Love these folks. I want more.

I was so excited to see Joe and Mary. They laugh at my humor though they're probably glad it was only a 2 day event. You can only take so much. If we do it again next year they'll be rolling their eyes like my wife. They have a good life. They live in Gods country in North Carolina and have 2 children that are blossoming into a beautiful reflection of God. Joe and Mary love God so much I admire them for the faith they displayed through adversity, uncertainty and hardship through the last 20 years. I think Gods got a picture of them in His wallet. Amazing people.

Then there's Cindy Lee. Yikes! What a train wreck she is ! Why, she.... Just kidding. She is so amazing and is precious to me. She has more to do with my walk with Jesus than almost anyone else. In college she had such a love for God and it rubbed off on me. She still has that love. My Dad cares so deeply for her. I can see why. She has weathered the storms (literally) and adversity in her life with with such grit and determination and maturity. She holds onto truth and faith and affects so many people. I think God's proud of her. I am.

Last was Shari. She and her husband Rick (he couldn't make it this weekend) were our closest friends from college. I think of her and I think the word precious. I've seen her face life with an amazing love for God. No matter the battle she cherishes Him. She is wise and strong and faithful. She makes me cry for the same reason God cries. Because she loves Him. He is the apple of her eye. I think she "gets" it. Because of her, I think I'm starting to get it. Precious.

I made a discovery on my drive home. Not all tools are made of steel or plastic. They don't even look like tools. They're people. Made of flesh and blood and spirit, they become tools of precision in the hands of the Master. 20 some odd years ago my Dad took up those tools and began to build and shape a man of God, a man after His own heart. I'm so unworthy. Over the years through all my trials and adversity I've done much to mess his work but He is good and patient and never quits. Have you ever seen tools with dents and scratches? They got that way because the mechanic got frustrated with what he's working on so he beats on it. I think my friends have dents. Sorry. He is so devoted to me.

I just wanted my friends to know I've discovered there is a wall behind a desk in the workshop of my heart and on that wall are some new "old" tools. They're a little older, a little rusty, with the nicks and dings of a life well used. I love that rugged look. Beautiful. I cry and am in awe. Of the love of my Dad. And the love of my friends. And I'm so proud and grateful to have them there. They're called Dianne, David, Bruce and Sheila, Joe and Mary, Cindy Lee and Shari. They are my joy and my treasure. I am so happy that my Dad found them for me again.

the middle

I'm sure this happens to everyone. You get in your car to drive to, say, the mall which is 5 miles away. You back out of the drive and head out, your mind full of thoughts. And all of a sudden you pull into the space at the mall and you kind of wake up and think how did I get here? You know you left, followed the signs, the rules of the road and now you're here. But it's that 5 miles in the middle you can't quite piece together.

I was talking to someone this week and mentioned we've been in our house for 18 years. When we moved in it was to be our "starter" home and we'd move on in 4 or 5 years, on to bigger and better. It' been a long 4 or 5 years. So I have some neighbors who I've met over the last 18 years and have had a conversation or two and have intended to have them over for dinner or dessert but just never got around to doing it. One of those neighbors is moving this month to Alabama and she said "sorry we never got around to having dinner together". I guess she'd thought of the dinner thing too. It made me mad at myself. Some loving neighbor. 18 years and not one offer to dinner. What had I been doing in all that time? I know when she came and I see when she's leaving. It's just those 18 years in the middle I can't quite piece together.

I haven't written in my blog in 2 months because.... I don't have a clue. I wrote the last one and just lost the... what? Desire? Inspiration? I think I just got lost in life, doing what it requires to make it from one day to the next, kind of like being on auto-pilot. And now it's two months later. My brother and I were talking about the blog tonight and it made me think about the 2 months. How did I get to 2 months later? I don't know. It's those 60 days in the middle I can't quite piece together.

This is a note to self. Don't be stuck in the middle. Wake up each day and be out front, leading the charge to make my world a better place. I'd like to do this. I think my DAD would be proud.

The Good Bad Food

I was in a bible study the other day. I was thinking about food but that wasn't what the study was about. I don't do well sitting and listening. My eyes were looking and my ears were listening but I wasn't hearing. Have you ever been in a meeting and you realize you've not heard much in the last 10 minutes? Imagine having that realization 5 times an hour. Now your listening in my shoes. Besides, I was thinking about food and since I'd skipped breakfast....

Quick, favorite food? I know, lots to choose from but what would you choose if it was your last meal? I mean you gotta go dessert, right? Sure, eat the meal but the last thing that goes down before you check out is the dessert. Mine is pound cake. Batter. I was a kid once and one of the glorious privileges of childhood is licking the beaters after your mom makes a cake. Awesome. The bowl was ok but mom usually scraped it pretty good so there wasn't much left. I always wanted to do the mixing so I could stop the mixer while the beaters were still buried deep in the batter. Then slowly pull them out as to not let much drip off. Glorious! The nightmare of course is when you get there too late and the beaters are out and she's SCRAPING THEM WITH THE SPATULA!!! Why do mom's DO that??? Torture. I've learned something as an adult. If I make pound cake, I don't have to stop at licking the beaters. It's MY cake and I can eat right out of the bowl!! And I do! I've actually eaten almost the whole bowl. Lot's of times. We all need a hobby. That's a cup of butter, half cup Crisco, 3 cups sugar, 3 cups flour, 5 eggs and a cup of milk. And a quart of milk to wash it down with. That's living.

The food I hate the most though was what I was thinking about during the bible study. The study was on faith. She asked the question " on a scale of 1-10 where do you rate your faith level?" Hummm. Depends on whether you want me to actually USE it or not. If you mean faith to believe in God and that He loves me then it's a 9 or 10. It's kind of like the faith I have in my truck. I know it's there and it'll turn on and go. I hardly think about it. Maybe we're all kinda like that. But you put me in another kind of vehicle, say a carnival roller coaster and maybe I think more about its trustworthiness. Especially as I look at the toothless grin of the Deliverance reject who put the thing together. I still get on though, despite the tinge of fear. How 'bout a rocket car? Pictures of Steve Austin tumbling down the runway fill my mind. Pass, too scary. I'll just drive my truck. I can control that. No faith needed.

Mustard. That's the food I hate the most. I know, I know, mustard's not technically a "food" but the Reagan Administration said ketchup was so there we go. I hate the smell. I hate the look. I hate hate hate the taste. I can't even touch the bottle. If you want it passed at the table I'll push it toward you with a stick. Then burn the stick. Wont eat things that MIGHT have it in it. Check your BBQ sauces. Those sneaky son of a guns sometimes slip it in there.(The "son of a guns" refer to the International Mustard Cartel. Part of the Taliban.) I once threw a rubber snake on a dear woman who hates snakes. She screamed, jumped around in terror and cried like a baby. I still feel bad. My brother threw mustard on me and I reacted the same way. Then I beat the crap out of him. He's still not sorry.

The only mustard I want to be associated with is the mustard seed. You know, the faith kind. I want to have it. Not only to just have it but to use it. I don't know, do you really have it if you don't use it? Is it kind of like having a wad of cash in a mason jar? If it's just in the jar it's just a wad of paper, of no value until you use it. And what if I miss my opportunity to use it? What if my long coveted gas grill is on sale at half price today and I know I should buy but I hesitate and look at my jar of money and POOF the grill's not on sale anymore. I eventually buy a grill,not the one I wanted, and people have missed out on my exquisite grilling skills (it's a nice dream so don't mess it up) all because I was what? Afraid? Not wanting to look the fool? Waiting for the voice from Heaven saying "Buy you dummy, there'll never be a better price". Probably lots of reasons. I just know, more often than not, I don't spend the faith. Because I don't have it? Haven't figured that one out.

So here's my feeble mustard seed prayer: " You are trust worthy. I know You are 'cause You said so but to be honest sometimes You don't seem to pay attention. How many times do I hear of people begging You for something, they've got their heads bowed, teeth gritted and quoting scripture and nothing happens and they crash in flames. Your fault? I don't know. You said it rains on the just and unjust. Maybe that's just life in a fallen world. But You ARE faithful. I have to believe You care. I have to believe You tell me stuff I can rely on and be confident that if I do it You'll hold up your end of the deal. I'm so sorry I'm weak and am so concerned with my image instead of yours. Hey, can we do this? Would You to tell me something tomorrow I can do for You. My hope and intent is that I'll be a man of mustard seed faith and change maybe just a little part of my world. Plant that seed and make it grow.I so want to be a man who pleases You and looks like You as I walk around. Please forgive me when I whine and complain as You do this. I know I asked for it. And You do it so well. Thanks Dad. I love you."

Sounds good, doesn't it? Well, I'll let you know....

bloody nose

"Maybe Ricky will have his blue cats eye marble today. If I can get my shot just right, use the new technique the way he does, it'll be mine". I loved playing marbles. I'm not even sure there were any rules: just draw a circle in the dirt, pile in a handful of marbles and commence to shooting them out. I was ok but Ricky was the champ and he had this cats eye marble that I wanted so bad. Maybe today's the day...."PLINK"!! That was the sound I heard and then "THWAP", my arm jerked backward and then all the kids were surrounding me hugging and giving high 5's. I had caught the softball for the final out and I was the hero. Only I didn't quite know what was going on. I had been playing marbles. In my mind. I had been daydreaming about marbles and barely knew I was standing on 3rd base. It was only by luck that I had been holding my glove open on top of my head and luck that the ball flew right into my glove and stayed there. I,as typical, was clueless.

What do you say to a brother or sister who knows the truth but it doesn't seem to work for them? I've been there. Beset with sin and crying out for God to save me, deliver me, but get nothing from the heavens. Or experiencing the aloneness of a dark universe when I'm going through a tribulation that no one has ever experienced.Or so it seems. Then I look at others living the victorious Christian life, conquering all the fiery arrows of hell and smiling all the while, and I'm thinking "I hate Baptists". Well, not really. I am one. Sorta. It seems so hollow to say "I'll pray for you" when they've lost their job, their spouse has left or their house burned down. But I do and I'm sure they appreciate it but back in the recesses of their mind it feels like "what good will prayer do?". I've felt that way. I've felt like God's not real. Or He doesn't really care. I have felt like just walking away. So what do you do with someone like this?

It's amazing what a shot in the arm it is when you get praise heaped upon you for doing something. I came home from the softball game feeling like I was Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle and Joe DiMaggio all rolled into one. I came home and told my family what had happened on the field of play that day (the daydreaming part can remain between you and me) and insisted that my dad come out after supper and play catch. We did this for quite a few days and then one day as the ball was thrown I stuck out my glove and..... Ever see a tennis player swing at a ball and miss and then they look at their racket and pick at the strings as if they're "moving" the strings back to cover the huge hole the ball must have gone through? Couldn't be that they just missed could it? I looked at my glove, looking for the huge hole the ball must have come through. The ball that was now laying on the ground under my nose which was now bleeding copious amounts of blood. I didn't play much ball after that.....

I think I want to start a prayer meeting with some friends. Maybe a Tuesday or Wednesday morning. I love so many of the people in my life and want to be a part of their lives. I want to rejoice with them. I want to cry with them. To walk with them. I want to be a friend. My life is so busy though. I've found I'm very selfish with my time and realize my life is about me mostly and that's so sad and I'm ashamed. I want to call people, to talk and let them know I care. I want to. But I don't. I have reasons. I have a hard time thinking of things to talk about. I have a bad memory and forget things about people so when I talk sometimes there these painful dead spots in the conversation while I'm trying to dredge things up in my brain. Of course there is the ever present television to occupy my time. Or the computer (never thought I'd say that). Just excuses.

3rd base is my place in life. I guess we all have a position to play and it's important to be there. Sometimes life comes at us and we make the catch - even if we aren't paying attention. Sometimes we get a bloody nose. You can't walk away or give up, like I've done so many times. Or let your team mate take his ball and go home. We ARE a team. I like what the writer of Hebrews says:" See to it brothers that none of you has an unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God. But encourage one another daily as long as it's called today, so that none of you may be hardened by sins deceitfulness". So well said. Mostly I don't think I play 3rd base well but I'll get up each day and take my place and ,good or bad, at least my DAD will know I'm trying....

ssssssSMOKIN!!!

I tried something new this week- thought I'd try reading the bible again. I wish I were more like the disciplined people who get up everyday and crack it open and get.....bored. I am ashamed to admit that sometimes I get nothing when I read it. It's like "same old same old" and I don't stick with it. Others do. Like my wife. I think she gets stuff. 'course she's a lot smarter than me. I know. Not a news flash. I think I'll stick with it for a while.....

My dad was a smoker. We hated it. We'd eat super fast at the dinner table because we had to beat dad. As soon as he finished he'd light up and we didn't want to get caught up in the cloudy haze of a couple of Winstons. I've got to hand it to my mom though...the house never smelled like smoke. She was a wizard at keeping the house clean and smelling fresh. As much as I hated smoking I tried it a few times. In 6th grade I saw this beautiful girl smoking- so sexy. So I went home and tried it. I didn't like it. It burned. And tasted awful. I tried again a few more times in my life...still gross.

I used to work as a maintenance man at a condo in Boca Raton while I was in college. There was this old Jewish lady that lived there who smoked like a chimney. She had to be like 180 yrs. old with that shriveled, puckered face of a long time smoker. She almost never came out of her apartment. Couldn't take the fresh air I guess. But when she did come out you could smell her a block away. Like an ashtray. Ever stand in line somewhere and the person in front or behind you reeks of smoke. I don't think they know. Well, the lady died. Complications from......a broken hip. (If cigarettes hadn't killed her by 180, they weren't going to). So another fellow and I went to clean and paint her condo. It was yellow with tar and nicotine and smelled so bad. She'd lived there for more than 20 years. Even the insides of the refrigerator were yellow. We cleaned with ammonia and started to paint. We came back and the walls we painted white were yellow again- the smoke bled right back through. Powerful stuff that nicotine.

I used the "where ever it opens " technique. I drop my bible on the table and start reading..... . I'll try other techniques as I go along. think I'll call it the "Drop-N-Plop". Today it opened to Psalms 139 and started there and got stuck on vs. 5 where it says " You hem me in-behind and before..." . There is a stop smoking commercial on tv now where a guy or girl walks around in a cloud of smoke and it's like they don't even know. But everyone else does. So this image is going through my mind and DAD says "that's you. Or could be you. I have surrounded you like that cloud of smoke. I hem you in- behind and before. And everyone notices". But what do they notice?

Have you ever met some one so like God that you feel like you just met Jesus? I've met a few and have left their presence and I feel like I smell like God. I've painted in smokers homes and when I come home Terri asks if I've started smoking. Being in the presence of smoke make me smell that way. That's the way I want it to be with my DAD. I want to have such a special friendship with him that there would be this mysterious cloud around me that everyone notices and says " Wow. That smells nice".

I think I'm found in a cloud of my own making though. I let too much of the world cover this work of art from my DAD has started. But He still seems to bleed through no matter what I cover myself with. I sure hope I can stop messing up His good work. I so want to smell like Him. Maybe I should Drop-n-Plop more....

pick up sticks and spider webs

You know what I miss? Yard Darts. Wonder if I could find a set on E-Bay? I guess I understand why they quit selling them. But really, wasn't the potential danger of impaling yourself or your brother half the fun? It's like NASCAR. We don't really want to watch cars go in circles. We want to see 'em wreck ! They've made IT safe too. You know what else they've made safe? Pick up sticks. They're not pointed anymore, they've got round balls on the end. Stupid. How can you use one to help pick up another with a round ball on the end? Are we gonna cut the ends off tooth picks next? I liked to play with pick up sticks though. It was a good challenge and I felt good when I won. I once dumped 5 or 6 containers of pick up sticks out. I have ADD. I gave up. Too confusing.

I used to work at a construction company who's shop was in the woods. I really enjoyed working there. One of the fun thing there was the spiders. They were all over the place. The cool ones were the Garden Orb spiders. We called them Banana spiders 'cause they were shaped like a banana. They could get huge, like 3 or 4 inches ! I used to catch baby frogs and drop them in the web and the spiders go nuts. They zoom to catch the frog, wrap it up and start sucking it dry. Cruel and gross I know. Boys will be boys and I am one. In one barn there were spiders who seemed to congregate together. There would be a couple dozen in one spot and they'd have their webs all tangled with one another and I wondered how they could tell who's web was who's. So many threads interwoven.

My daughter Kara had a Ford Mustang for a few years and the head gaskets blew so it was up to me to fix it. I'm pretty mechanically inclined and had done a few head gaskets before so I dove right in. Then I dove right back out. But she needed her car. I hemmed and hawed for a few days then reluctantly went back at it. Some cars are easy to work on but this one looked like the engine was poured in place. No room to work. And so many wires and hoses. You couldn't tell where they started or ended, whether they were in the way or not. So many things connected and inner woven. And so many bolts! I knew I could get it apart but getting it together and it have it run, well.... I wanted to cry some times. It seemed so confusing. Too many parts. Even with the book it seemed confusing. But I got it done. And It ran !

I'm just about to give up watching the news, reading newspapers, the internet or Facebook. I guess I'm tired of so much complaining and the seeming hatred and disdain for those who don't see the world like we do. That's part of my personality I think. I just want everybody to get along. Isn't that what Rodney King said? This whole health care debate has stirred up a lot of this in me. I've read so much stuff on Facebook where people on both sides of the isle are taking swipes at each other and it just seems so...unloving. Unkind. I get that people are passionate. I need to be more that way. But the way it's been expressed.....

I want to comment on political stuff but I don't because I don't or can't understand so much stuff. The issues are to me so complicated. Like pick up sticks, spider webs or Ford Mustangs I feel like everything is so connected or woven together, that to do one thing might affect another. What's good for some will be bad for another and I know I'm not smart enough to make those decisions. And what's disheartening to me is that people who disagree and are way smarter than me both seem right. So who IS right? Uuuhhh.....

I am a blessed man. I live in a country where so much is possible. I live in a country where I'm free. And what I want to do with my freedom is to love my God and to act like Him no matter what the government looks like. Well, I say I want to love Him but I don't think I do such a good job. He's easy for me to ignore sometimes. Sad. But I want to walk in his steps in my world and do what He's doing. I can't change the country but I think I can change my world, at least my little slice of it. I guess. I hope tomorrow I'll wake up with the same passion for my Dad as some have for this country. Which,by the way, isn't even my home.

burrrrrr....

I had a job once. It was nice because it paid me real money. Well, It would have. I worked at Taco Viva in West Palm Beach for 5 hours and never came back. I got fired by another employee, not even the manager. Said they'd hired me on accident, that they didn't really need anyone. Which was fine with me. I hated the job. I didn't know how to make a taco. What kind of 18 year old can't make a taco? What kind of 18 year old lets his mama make his taco? Pathetic. Taco Viva still owes me for the 5 hours. Wonder if I can still get it?

I remember the most miserable I've ever been on a job. I used to work for a company that made concrete water storage tanks. Some times they'd leak and we would have to travel out of town to fix 'em. This one was in Colombus ,Mississippi. We fixed it before. Probably why it was leaking now. We had painted a rubber liner in the tank and now it was failing so we had to blast it off with pressure washers. In the dead of winter. The temps were in the low 20's and I was freezing even before I got wet. And I got wet. We sat on scaffolding about 3 feet from the wall and blasted away with the water going everywhere...including inside my rain suit.I was so cold. It was hard for all of us but we managed to stick it out and fix the tank (I think). I don't know if I'd have finished if others weren't there with me.

I get tired of reading the bible sometimes. It's a great sleep aid if you read it at the right time of the day. Some times I get tired of praying too. I think I realize sometimes I show up to Gods door with his "to do" list for the day. "...And if you get through with that before the days end come see me. I have another list...". I try to have conversations with Him throughout the day but when it comes to asking for things I feel like "why bother" 'cause not much happens when I do ask. Yeah, I'm pretty shallow. Have you ever been addicted to anything, like cigarettes, crack, food, porn,television,alcohol, et al and asked God to help you stop? It's like He's on vacation. Always wondered where He goes to do that....

Life is about work. And that's not a bad thing. Well, I guess it can be but you can derive so much pleasure from it too. I've said before that I've had a good and bad marriage over the past 26 years and it has taken lots of work to make it happy. Mostly it's because I took a lot of time off from the good work of marriage and let it get bad in spots which makes the work of restoration all the harder. And I don't like hard work. I have a tendency toward laziness so I've needed help form time to time from my brothers to grab me by the arm and walk with me in the doing of the good work of marriage, of parenthood, of walking with my DAD or my job. I think that's one of the reasons why we have brothers and sisters. At least that's what I'm using 'em for. Guess that sounds bad. I love my family of faith and am so grateful that they love me and are willing to help. I cherish them and hope they know I do. They make me feel good.

Sometimes we reap what we sow and end up in a hard place. I don't understand it but sometimes we just end up in a hard place for who knows what reason. It's not our fault but here we are. I want to say the hard place is not where we are supposed to be, that we are meant for an easier life but I can't. History is littered with examples of people who were born into hardship and died in it. Children of Israel in Egypt anyone? It just doesn't seem fair but I'm not the one who gets to decide that. So sometimes I try to be content "...no matter the situation..." like Paul. But some times it's easier to whine...

Don't know why I'm writing this today. I wrote the first paragraph 2 weeks ago but forgot where I was goin' with it. Just sat down and started typing tonight . I'm in a hard place right now and am working my way through it. May get wet. And cold. May have to learn to make tacos. But I will make it. I don't know how long or how hard I'll have to work. Maybe a day, maybe a month, maybe a year. It doesn't matter. I have a great life filled with a fabulous wife and kids and my brothers and sisters who care. Most of all, I have a DAD who knows so much about me and cares so deeply for me. He is proud to call me His son and is so dedicated to helping me work out life and become who He said I already am. It's an honor to know Him. Think I want to be like Him when I grow up....

Now about that list.....

Cry Baby

A cautionary tale for fathers and fathers to be....

No stories tonight. Just regrets and tears. Sadness and the woulda coulda shoulda's. It's not the way you should feel on the eve of your daughters wedding.Ok, one story. Or two....

The summer of 1987 was the best ever. We spent the whole time in Terri's home town of Deer Isle, Maine and I worked with her dad remolding a house . I love her folks - sweet people who love Jesus. Maine is such a beautiful place and the pace of life is so relaxed that even though I worked 40 hours a week it didn't feel like it. I remember getting up at 6:00 each day and would go to the Galley (the local grocery store) to get a cup of coffee and a cake doughnut. They made fun of me 'cause I was barefoot. I wore shoes to work though. The house we worked on was in a cove in Blue Hill. Sooo beautiful. The cove I mean. The house was a dump. Location, location location. I wish I could say more without boring you. Do a Vulcan mind meld and let you know how good it felt that summer.

All good things come to an end and so it did that summer. We were going back to West Palm Beach and I wasn't going back to school, I was going to work. There is a beautiful suspension bridge that connects Deer Isle to the mainland and as we left, having said our goodbyes we began to cross the bridge. I don't remember what was going through my mind exactly but something was changing. I wasn't just crossing a bridge to go to another city but I was crossing into a new future. Since I was 5 years old I had been a student and as weird as it sounds for me to say, there was a certain comfort in school. A predictability. Every day was going to be mostly the same. Now, I was married and have a daughter and one on the way, no job and I'm crossing this bridge into a future unknown and I was sooo scared. I couldn't turn around and go back. Being a grown up means you can't go back. The decision was final. So as we crossed, I began to cry. A lot.

I wanted to play football when I grew up. Wide receiver. I was fast but was too chicken to try out. People who are too chicken to try out end up house painters. I'm still too chicken so I paint.I cried when I turned 40. Not because I was 40 but because football players weren't 40 (mostly). As irrational as it seemed, I still believed I had what it took to play ball (all the while dismissing the fact I never HAD what it took) and could just start at any moment. But now I was 40 and it was too late. I was too old and you can't turn back time. So I cried.

I had to smile. We were at the beach enjoying the healthy dose of radiation we all love when I noticed an older man and woman walking by. He looked like he might be in his late 50's and she in her early 20's. I assumed father/daughter but you never know. Mid-life crisis' and all. Guess she could have been a hooker. They came toward us, holding hands, talking and laughing as they paced along and you could see they enjoyed each other. The great thing about sunglasses is you can stare at someone and they don't know, so I watched as they passed and I smiled inside. They had that special something. The man loved his daughter.

My daughters and son are special. I am so rich in that way. I wish I'd have taken better care of my riches. I really had a blast with them when they were young, doing all the things a little kid wants to do. But as they got older they became a little more independent, a little more self sufficient. We were a one income family which meant sometimes working long hours or even going out of town on occasion for days at a time. It didn't leave much time for me. Or Terri. Or the kids. Since the kids were more able to occupy themselves and not demand my attention I'd let them just play by themselves. Reminds me of the old story preachers tell of the man on his death bed never saying "I wish I'd have spent more time at the office". Sometimes you have to spend more time there but the job didn't end when I came home. I had to be a father. A good father. And that means time. Time I spent on other things. They weren't clamoring for my attention so more often than I'd like to admit I didn't give it. It wasn't the games and fun they missed out on but the wisdom and subtle instruction that rubs off just being with someone. A father.

My daughter is getting married and I have to pick a song to dance to. I've been listening to a few and my heart is just broken. They all speak of how the song writer cherishes so much his daughter, how she's so special. Special memories. I picture the father and daughter as they walked down the beach. They seemed so...rich. I don't have enough of those. Neglect is so subtle. Like Proverbs says "a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of hands and poverty will come upon you like a vagabond." I didn't intend to be a bad father. Truth is I'm not a bad father but I'm not a great father. And THAT was my call...to be a great father. It's never too late and so I keep trying but I missed sooo much. I've crossed the bridge, I'm past 40 and I can't turn back so I do what grown ups do, keep moving forward and trying to making right choices. Striving to still be a great dad.

I will pick the right song. The music will start and I'll take Kara's hand and lead her to the dance floor and embrace and begin to sway to the music. I'll look her in the eyes and tell her I love her. She'll probably say the same thing back. She loves me. I will be so proud and full of joy. She is so special to me. Her future is bright and I long to be a part of it. She will no longer bear my name but I hope she'll bear some of the Life I passed on. I hope some of the good made it through. Some of the Jesus. My eyes will be full of tears as we dance. Mostly they'll be tears of joy. But I'll cry some of regret too. Regret that I can't get time back....