Thursday, February 25, 2010

A real gun

My first acting experience was traumatic I think. My memory is fuzzy on this point because I was in 3rd grade, which was more than a week ago. And I don't remember things past a week. It all just seems to blend into the haze of my past. I don't remember the play's name. Or what it was about. I don't think I had a line. I was more of a prop than and actor. Like the guys in red shirts in the old Stat Trek shows. You never noticed them. Until the met an untimely death. The guys in red shirts always died. Your agent calls and says he got you a spot on Star Trek. "Great! Whats my role"? Doesn't know. But you'll be wearing a red shirt. #%@&!!?@%

I do know I was a soldier. I think it was set in the old west days. Our teacher asked us if we had a gun, a rifle, to bring and use in the play. Boy did I! Santa had given me a whole cowboy get up for christmas that year. A cowboy hat (with the string. Can't have it flying off), two six shooters and holsters and boots WITH spurs. I never did get the horse though. But the best part of the ensemble was the Winchester 30.06 lever action rifle made out of real Corinthian plastic (I just made that up to make it sound better). When you pulled the trigger it made a bbburrr sound. Just like the real ones must have sounded.

Two things happened that scarred me for life. Ok, that's overly dramatic. But it made me cry. I was such a wuss. So I show up to school with rifle and what I saw made me want to run home. The other boys had REAL guns! A couple .22's and a couple bb guns. Made out of real steel. Corinthian steel! How could I possibly stand next to these guys on stage? Real guns? Are you kidding me? I remember hiding my gun behind anything I could find. "Let me see your gun twerp. Let's see it. Hey guys! Look! His mommy bought him a gun for the play. Did she buy you a tea set too"? I cried. I'm tearing up now.

The teacher made them apologize. Yeah. That helped. We practiced for ever how long and then came the big day. We're back stage getting into our costumes and our teacher is making the final adjustments to our get ups and then to my horror she whips out this tube of lipstick and proceeds to smear it on every bodies lips! No way, no how. I'M NO GIRL! I don't even have a tea set at home. "But honey, it helps people in the audience see you better". Ha! What they'd see was a cowboy wearing lipstick. And that wasn't going to be me. So I cried. And cried. Too late to get another cowboy so I went on without lipstick. In a red shirt.Sometimes a mans got to make a stand. Even if he has to cry.

I was reading Donald Millers book "Blue Like Jazz". It is such a good book and I'm in awe as I read it. HE'S ME! I can so relate to everything he writes. But in a way it's sooo discouraging.

I've never sat down and written anything in my life I didn't have to. I've never had an interest in doing this. I guess I can be a little creative in a pinch but I don't think much of my abilities in this area. That has changed in the last few months. Since Facebook I guess. Though I'd try a hand at and see what happens. I think I've said it before, I think I like to write. Or am starting to. Mostly, it's for me, to help me get my thoughts together. To help me in my walk (stumble) with my DAD. And maybe some one might learn from my mistakes. Or my vast knowledge..... .Right.

14 years ago I started a painting business I didn't want to start. But I knew I heard God say do it. I felt like Moses. "Not me! Have my brother do it. He knows more, a better speaker.....". I could give you a dozen reasons why I shouldn't have started it. But how do you tell God no? (Ok, so I do it all the time. Don't know why I stepped out of character then...) I looked in the phone book and it seemed like there were a million painters listed. How was I supposed to survive, much less thrive? But He said do so I did. Zig Zigler said anything worth doing is worth doing poorly. Huh? Poorly he said, until you do it well. I've done ok.

So I sit here at the computer and try to think of some thing to write about. I have ideas and sometimes I'm coherent enough to write something that makes sense. To me anyway. But when I read other peoples stuff I feel inadequate. I read Donald Millers book and feel like, whats the use - some one has already written my story and it's soooooo good! I feel like I felt in 3rd grade. I have a toy gun.

Have you ever felt that way? Maybe God said do something and all you can see is everyone else that's doing it ten times better than you ever could? Discouraging isn't it? Well, keep going. Do what you're called to do. Even if you don't do it well.Learn to accept failure. Embarrassment. The I don't want to's. Put the lipstick on and walk out on stage. Someday, you'll find you're holding a real gun...

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

She thinks I'm special

I stoped and talked with my friend Dale today. She's a she. Don't know if Dale is short for something. "Dalene"? Maybe her dad didn't get that son he wanted. She's a wonderful woman. In her 60's I think. I'm happy to know her. We almost lost her a couple of years ago. She had some kind of "routine" surgery on her brain that went wrong and she almost died. She was in the hospital for months. I'm glad she's better.

We were talking about some work I'm going to do in her house and before we finished up the conversation she asked me to pray for a friend who was just told they have brain cancer. It doesn't look good.She asked because she said I was good at it.(at which God did a double take and said "Say what"). Maybe she thinks that because I went and prayed for her when she was in the hospital. I'm always hesitant 'cause I don't think I'm good at it. of course, she's still with us.....

I'm afraid to die. Maybe afraid is the wrong word. I just don't want to. Not yet anyway. I want to be really old, like 105 or something. I want it to happen in a field on a sunny spring afternoon under the shade of an old oak tree. Terri and I will have just finished a picnic lunch of bacon wrapped brats, chips and cokes. When you're 105 you don't worry about fat, cholesterol or sugar. We lay back on our blanket and listen to the birds sing and fall peacefully asleep and just never wake up. sigh.( you don't know how much I wanted to spin a yarn about being run over by an 12 ton articulated John Deere tractor....)

I care about what people think of me. Maybe too much. My mom is this way. Sometimes it's crippling. I want people to think I'm worth something. Something special. Donald Miller in his new book said something that clicked into place like another piece of the puzzle. It was a throw away line really. "No one wants to die average". As in "average Joe". I think that's what I'm afraid of. I hope that's not prideful. I just want to have made a difference. To someone.

I think we all on some level want to be remembered as really special. Like Mother Teresa. Or Billy Graham. I know he's not dead yet but when he goes there'll be no shortage of people who tell how special he was. A lot of teenage boys who grow up playing football or basketball dream of "going pro" some day. Very few are that special, maybe 1 in 10,000. The rest of us will just be average. But they have a chance to be special. If just to a few.

I am average. Not so special. Not Billy Graham special. Most days, to tell the truth I don't feel special at all.Special? heck. I don't feel even average. Just a face in the crowd. But despite how I feel I know I am special. Special to a Guy who spends his off time counting hairs on heads.

Each day I get to BE special to a small number of people in my small world if I'll take the opportunity. My wife. My kids. My neighbors. The Dales of my world. I get to get up each day and connect with my DAD and walk together. Maybe we'll bump into each other along the way and I'll get to help make you feel more than average. To make you feel valued. To help you feel like I feel when I talk to Dale. Special.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

mysterious negro

I never did get it

Did you ever play with train sets as a kid? My brother got one for christmas one year mounted on a sheet of plywood. 3x5 oval.Neat but the train just went in circles. The really cool set ups were at the mall at christmas time. Beautiful and elaborate. Huge. So cool. But in the end, they still basically went in circles. Bet they grew up to be NASCAR fans.

I never did get it. The movie, not trains. My brother and our friend Dane watched "Raising Arizona" and just thought it was the funniest movie ever. Just in the telling you couldn't help but laugh with them. So I was excited to see it. Didn't get it. Not what they got. It was funny enough but not as much as they let on. I didn't get it until..."O Brother Where Art Thou?". Because of content, I don't often go see "R" rated movies. I wait for them to come out on DVD and watch 'em on the Clearplay ( google Clearplay ). But I went and saw this and laughed so much my side hurt. Couldn't breath the whole movie. Major hoot!

Do you know what a pump car is? It's like a hand powered train car. You've seen them in those old west movies: Kind of like a flat bed trailer with a see-saw handle in the middle you pump up and down to move down the tracks. In the movie the 3 main characters escape a chain gang and try to hop a train but fall off.( The look on George Clooneys face is perfect!) As they stand arguing at the tracks a negro man (their word) on a pump car comes by and they hop aboard. He's blind, looks hot and tired yet he pumps away and begins to dispense a mysterious prophecy as he carries them to their destination.

Life is about relationships. With God, with spouse, with children, bosses, neighbors, co-workers...dogs and cats. This may come as some what of a surprise to the unmarried or newly married....marriage is hard. Sometimes it's REALLY hard.Mine has been at points. Mostly, it's my doing. Don't get me wrong - I'm a fine catch (Take the word "fine" any way you want) but I've shot my self in the foot and my wife in the heart so many times you could make a WHOLE country album. It takes hard work and determination. And lots of DAD's grace.

Lots of people give up on relationships. I think that's why the divorce rate is around 50%. Folks give up good jobs because bosses or co-workers make life unbearable. It just seems like there's something better "out there". I give up on my DAD all the time because having a relationship with an invisible Man is hard and I'm a quitter. But He lets me start again each day. That's nice. But it can be hard. It's like getting on that pump car each day and pumping away and I'm tired and hot and sweaty and I want to quit. I see people in "REAL" train cars having a good time and moving forward and I get sad.I have such a long way to go. I don't begrudge them. Lots of times I get to ride in a real car. But when I'm pumping, I sometimes want to quit.

I think this is some sort of apology. Because I've not done my part very well and I want to do better. And I want us all to do better. I've known so many through my short life who have grown tired and have given up. Who've quit on God or their marriage and it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart mostly because I'm ashamed of my paltry efforts on their behalf. IF I even noticed! There have been times I've needed that help too, for some one to put me on my cart, to hold me, to help me pump, to give an encouraging words and sage advice. To be my mysterious negro....

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Gods not real

Tigers back. Tiger Woods. You know , I like Tiger. He has it all. Well, I guess that's what he got in trouble for...having them all. He said he was sorry. It's funny. I feel sorry for him. Not because of what he did - he's absolutely on the hook for all he did and will reap a long time of sorrow and hardship because of it. All the sports talk shows I listened to criticized him. Not for his actions so much but other things. He read his speech. Too controlling of the press conference. He wasn't sincere. Really? We know the heart of this man? I don't know...just bugged me.

He said something in his apology I liked. " I convinced myself that the normal rules did not apply to me. I was foolish...it's time for me to start living a life of integrity". Rules don't apply.....hummmm....

I work hard all month long and usually by the end of it I'm really ready to unwind. My pastor's the same way. That's why every last friday of the month we meet at his house and get hammered. I mean wasted. Some fridays our wives show up so we break out the bongs and a big bag of Mother Natures finest! I mean, if you ever want to feel like Jesus get a hold of a Vineyard pastor - they have connections! We can often be found on the couch watching REALLY "R" rated movies. We eat lard right out of the can and wash it down with WHOLE milk! We call up the nursing home and scream all the 4 letter cuss word at old ladies. Last week we went to the park and told children they were ugly and would never amount to anything. Kinda just letting it all out you know? Love those Fridays.

The IRS doesn't come after you you know. I can not pay my taxes and not pay my taxes and they don't seem to mind. Well, for a while. A LONG time after you don't pay your taxes you get a letter. More like a bill. With large penalties and fines. I think that's why they don't come after you right away. The longer the time between when you're supposed to pay and when you finally get the letter, the higher the fines and interest. I've been behind on taxes. I've been behind on the utility bill. I mean I know they're governmentish like, but they don't wait. They come right away and pull the plug. I was late paying my phone bill. They shut me off. Same with the credit card. Not a great money manager. But I have another 50 years to get it right....

" When man starts to sin, God ceases to exist".I don't know who said it but I think it's true. Tiger says he's a Buddhist. I don't know they think of God. Or if there is one. But I think he had some sort of moral compass. I just wonder how a guy who has a beautiful wife and so much of his own stuff that could seemingly satisfy could violate that compass?

I know a guy who loves Jesus who was a pot head. Pot heads for Jesus. I asked him why he felt it was ok to do it. "cause nothing happened". Well, he got stoned. But the ground didn't open up and swallow him. No lightening bolt from the sky. It's because God's not real. It's not like getting wasted or stoned in front of your pastor. He's real. You can see him. Touch him. God's invisible. Not real.

Disclaimer: Before I go any farther I need to say that the whole paragraph about my pastor is false. We do none of that. Just made up. Though we talk about it. Thursdays are better for him......

God's real alright. He just seems not real sometime. Ask anyone who struggles with addiction. Pills, porn or Pabst Blue Ribbon. When the temptation comes you can say, based on previous experience of not getting "caught", "It's ok". You turn God off and do what you do. Don't we all do that some times? I do. A couple of months ago I went to Krispe Kreme and got a dozen hot ones and a quart of milk. Sat in the parking lot and ate them all and was tempted to get another dozen. You can eat doughnuts all day and I don't care. But my Dad told me not to. So I turned Him off. I made Him not real.

God is the IRS. He's quiet. You know about Him. Hear about Him in the news. You know some one who's dealt with Him. Some day though, you're gonna get a letter. We reap what we sow. I'm so thankful for His grace though.Yeah, I'll have to walk through the consequences of my actions. Just like Tiger. But when I open the letter it reads " PAID IN FULL ". Thank you DAD!! He is so kind.

I hope Tiger gets to live that life of integrity. I hope his family can be healed. Mostly though, I hope he gets to meet my DAD some day....

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Cowardly who?

I was driving to a job this afternoon, which ,is how I get to most of them. The jobs I mean. Always thought it was cool how the kings or queens back in the day got carried around in those cart thingy's. You know what I'm talking about- like a square box elaborately decorated with poles through the bottom with a guy on each end of the pole, carrying you where ever you want. And you'd recline inside on a bunch of plush pillows as someone fed you grapes(I'd lose the grapes though and replace them with donut holes...on the stem!)That's traveling!
So anyway, I'm driving and I'm thinking. Trying to put thoughts together. My mind is like that kids game called the Memory game. You have all these cards face down and you flip them over one at a time until you find a match. So I drive, flipping thoughts over until something matches.Sometimes something comes up that matches a thought from before but I don't know what I did with the previous thought. So now I have to think about what I thought about before. Sheeesh. No wonder I'm tired when I get home.
The Cowardly Lion. That's the card I flipped. That's what I thought about. Random. Not so much him but what he said in one scene.(1939 was a great year for the movies by the way. Oz, Gone With the Wind,Sherlock Holms,Wurthering Heights, and more...) "I do believe in spooks! I do believe in spooks! I do! I do! I do!". He had his eyes closed tight as he said it over and over. Guess it helps you believe.
I just finished watching "Kingdom of Heaven" with Orlando Bloom. Well not WITH him. (That would be silly. He usually doesn't make it over until Friday.We play canasta with Jerry and Elaine). I mean he was in the movie. I really like movies that are based on some kind of history. Braveheart was a good one too. I think because I watch and see Gods hand in so much history and think like " what if this one decision wasn't made" or this "this one unintended act wasn't done" then the whole history of this event or time period would have changed in a terrible way.
In "Kingdom" there was this kind of fatalism mindset in the people. The Christians and the Muslims. This was set during the crusades. It was sort of like "we'll pray for victory but God's gonna do what He wants".
Flip. Card number two.
You can believe this or not but I prayed once and nothing happened.Yeah. I was stunned too. Lots going on in the middle east at the time so I chalked it up to God being busy. So I prayed again only louder. Zip. As in the heavens were zipped shut. Ok so I wasn't shocked. I wasn't because that's how it is with me it seems. I pray and ask for stuff or just to hear and I get nada. So after a while, sometimes,... a lot of the times, I feel like the characters in Kingdom of Heaven. I'll pray and God's gonna do what He wants.
The guy in the bible I relate to the most I think is the one who's son is being delivered from a demon. Jesus tell the man "Everything is possible for him who believes". And the guy says "I do believe, but help me not to doubt". I am so there with this fellow. Help me not to doubt. My new bumper sticker. I feel so,...I don't even know the word. I do believe but feel like when it comes down to it, I doubt. Like the people in "the Kingdom", I pray for victory but....it could go either way depending on Gods mood.
So here I am so often with challenges or troubles in my life and I think God's going to do what He wants (and He should. He's right). And I find myself, like the cowardly lion, with my eyes shut saying over and over "I do believe, I do believe, I do believe...". Maybe if I say it long enough and loud enough.......

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Huhhh...what?

I have a small, somewhat limited mind. I'm not stupid or anything like that.(insert wise crack here). I just have a hard time holding on to new information. It just seems to vanish. Like my brain is full and the new stuff just rolls off. Kinda like pouring sugar in a cup after it's full and it piles up and just keeps rolling off the top. Some times I get a rush of thoughts and before I can do something with it it's gone. Or I have remnants of thoughts. My friend Arty say's it's like drinking from a fire hydrant. You mostly get wet and not much to drink. Was like that this morning in the church meeting. And as usual, it had nothing to do with what the guy was talking about. Happy Valentines day by the way!
I'm not so happy to this point in the year. I don't know if happiness is the goal but I like to be happy. Don't you? You're told as a youngster that life has it's hills and valleys so you probably guess you'll have some ups and downs. Everybody does, right? But what if your valleys have valleys? Oh crap, right?
Back in the early 80's Dunkin Donuts had a commercial with this dumpy guy making the doughnuts. Looked like the guy that you might have on your bowling team ( if you're on a bowling team, YOU might be this guy. Why I don't bowl....). He'd go out at all times, rain or shine, day or night and say "time to make the donuts". Poor guy. I felt sorry for him. What a boring life. He looked so run down. His life was almost pointless and it seemed like he knew it. But what else was there? He gets up and does it again and again. Until he dies(they never showed this part in the commercials).
I feel like this from time to time. It's like whatever I imagined my life was going to be like didn't quite happen. Some of it( ok, most of it) is my fault. Some is on others. Maybe it's Gods fault. Can He be at fault? Probably not the best word. But something's going on and He has His hand in it somewhere. I feel like the donut guy. Day after day, same old same old. Sigh.
As I've mentioned before, I have a great life and much to be thankful for. A great DAD. Wonderful wife and kids. Good job. Friends. 4 walls and 3 squares a day. Nice right? You'd think. Somethings missing though. And I think what it is is that I'm handicapped in one area. Communication. I'm not good at it. Well, sometimes. My dads fault. He was a very quiet man. Said very little most of his life and I think consequently had few friends. He just didn't know what to say.
I never wanted to be like him. In fact, just the opposite - the life of the party. I want to make people laugh and smile, feel accepted and warm. All of this takes communication and to my dismay I'm finding out I'm more like my dad than I ever wanted to be. Bummer. I love to listen to people and know what's goin' on in their lives. And I want to say things that will encourage them and build them up. I want to help them in their relationships with one another and with God. But mostly, I just don't know what to say so I feel some what, I don't know,...useless? I guess I feel inept.
So here's the real issue. If relationships are what life is about and the most important one is with a Guy who's invisible and is silent most of the time, well, I'm screwed (can I say that?). I'm handicapped.I want for that one to be soooo real, so good. But most of the time it feel like two quiet people sitting across from each other on a first date hoping SOMEONE will say SOMETHING! Awkward. I really want to have a conversation. To listen, to hear. To laugh. To cry. To be...normal. Is that possible? I don't know. I'd like it to be. I'd like it to be so that when I have a chance to share "...the Hope that is within me..." it will be real. Genuine. Not some religious mumbo jumbo. I really want it to be like I'm talking about my real best friend.
If I come to mind ever, pray for me. I won't give up. I'll keep moving forward. Because I love my DAD and I want to give Him my best. I'll walk through the "time to make the donuts" part of life until I mature to the "WOW! I GET to make the donuts!".If I can be of help to you I'd love to. I can pray. And if pressed, gulp, even have a conversation. Feel free to call. 352-318-8051.
I hope any of this made sense....

Monday, February 8, 2010

Battleship

Everybody had a nice old neighbor when they were kids. A grandma or grandpa type right? I had one right next door to me. Mr. and Mrs. Arline. Teddy and Ginette to my mom and dad. Very sweet people, quick with a smile or a joke or some good natured teasing. And always there for a helping hand when you needed them. Nice christian folks too. They went to the Church Of God, Westwood Hills Church of God I think. I went to school there in 8th grade. And cheated big time. What did they expect if they let you grade your own work and tests? It was like free ice cream. I was a christian but I wasn't stupid (that came later in life). They washed feet there. At the church I mean. I thought that was weird. I think I still do.
I think Mr. Arline worked at the VA. A maintenance man or a mr. fix it or something. He wore coveralls and carried a lunch box. Not like my Scooby-Doo lunch box but like one of those construction worker kind. You know, kinda barrel shaped on the top with ribs, all scratched up with a little thermos clipped in the top. I'd love to have one of those. You can't buy a new one though.People will look at you funny, you look like a the new guy. Same thing with a tool belt. Gotta buy this stuff at a flea market so it comes already broken in. Or drag your new stuff behind the car for a few miles to get the nicks and dings.
Mr. Arline could take his teeth out. At first I didn't think it was a big deal because my dad could take his teeth out too. So could my grandma. But Mr, Arline did it on purpose to make you laugh. He was fun. He could also make teeth out of watermelon rind that looked so funny.
The best thing about this man was that he was in the navy in WWII. I never asked him but I just knew because he had a battleship in his back yard. Came from an army/navy surplus store I'm sure. My mom said we weren't allowed to play on it though. Too dangerous. Right. We were young men, my friends and I and the Vietnam war was going on so we had to get ready. So when mom wasn't home we'd play on it.
It was amazing how close Gainesville was to Vietnam. When we were on the ship we were under constant attack from the Germans and Japs( the only enemy combatants we knew of. John Wayne movies.)Boy how the air vibrated as we cranked up the anti-aircraft gun and those 16 inch guns. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. ack ack ack ack ack BOOM. We shot down dozens of aircraft every day. And of course there were injuries. Most all of us got shot a bunch so we had to have a nurse to help us. My sister was the only girl so she was elected. Every one liked this but me. Who wants to get pampered by his sister. But I took it like a man. This was war.
Some days the battleship was a landing craft which meant we had to go ashore for hand to hand combat. Rambo Shmambo. We were fighting machines trained in all the latest fighting techniques with all the weapons. The Germans had no chance. Of course, a German would get off a lucky shot and we'd be killed but some how come back to life. My sister had nothing to do with this. In the end, we'd either kill all the Germans or Japs or someones mother would call them home for dinner. There's always tomorrow...
Mr. and Mrs. Arline are gone now but I wish they still lived next door. And I still wish he still had his battleship (though as I think about it now....maybe it was just an old boat on blocks. I'll have to ask my mom) I would see that thing and think about battling. War. Enemy. Injury. Death. Victory!
You know, I get up every day and battle. Well, there's a battle going on that I mostly ignore. An unseen enemy like my Germans and Japanese that are at war for my soul . And I treat this enemy like the Germans and Japanese- make believe. I can't see them or feel them so I don't think about them. I just go about my merry way. But I should because they are real and have at points screwed up my life and those around me.( I am absolutely on the hook for poor decisions I make. The devil didn't make me do it. He just maybe gave me the idea)
So, battleship or no, I will get up tomorrow and battle to be a good son. One who honors his Father in word and deed. One who makes his DAD look appetizing and special to those around me. He is sooo nice to me and my family. I wish every one knew Him. Only, better than I do....

Saturday, February 6, 2010

It just takes longer

Things take longer than you think. My wife Terri is always telling me this. I sit down to the computer and think I've typed for 10 minutes and it turns out to be an hour. I tell her I'll be home in 20 and it's an hour. I'm optimistic I guess. As in I'd be done typing in 10 IF I could type or I'd be home IF there were no other cars on the road. Well, I can't and there are. Reality.
I built a deck this week. Tore the old one off and put a new and improved one back. Looking at it ( it was 10X12 ) I thought a day max. In.Out. Move on to the next thing, places to go, people to meet. Well, two days. I built it better than it was before, stronger, more bracing, epoxy coated fasteners, plastic wood, etc. It just took longer. I judged poorly how much time and effort was involved.
I remember painting some ones house and I miss-judged by DAYS how long it would take. After the fourth day the profit started to disappear and by the time I finished I think I was making $9 an hour. You can't run a business on $9 an hour. Agony. I can remember rolling paint on the wall and I was crying and thinking I was going to quit because I couldn't do it. How could I be so far off on my price and time estimate? Every time I look up or around and see how much more there was to do new waves of depression and tears would overwhelm me.
The cost of and education. That's what I tell myself when I encounter one of those jobs. I learn to look better. Anticipate potential problems. Realize I'm human with a life that gets in the way of work some time. Realize that I "can't type and there are other cars on the road". But sometimes I don't. I just go through emotional turmoil and whine but I don't look at what went wrong and how to fix it. I just cry. Sometimes I can be such a wuss.
I seem to go through a lot of hard times in my life and I complain, cry, blame, but rarely ask what I could do different. I don't always examine what God's doing in my life. Don't examine what I've done wrong. Just complain and say "why is this taking so long"? I an so immature for a man of 46.
Some things just take longer. God's molding me and making me into a good son, a man of integrity and character. Which I desperately want. It's just a work that sometimes takes a while. Sometimes much longer than I think. Is it because of me? Mostly. Lazy, poor decision making, etc.. Sometimes though, a hard time needs to take a long time. I don't understand this or God and His ways. I want to trust Him and believe He's got me in his hand. But sometimes I think He dropped me. I can be so faithless some times.
But He is faithful and kind. And I will get up tomorrow and do my best to follow and be like Him.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

roots

What do you want on your tombstone? Me,...peperoni. Ha ha. That's a joke. See, there's a pizza named Tombstone and when people say "what do you want..." . Oh never mind. If I have to explain it.... .Well, I was thinking about other things and my tombstone popped into my mind. Where do these thoughts come from? How can you be thinking perfectly normal thoughts about cheating the IRS and then have some random thought invade your mind? Lack of mental discipline I suppose. Need to up my dose of Ritalin.
So what's on my stone? I'm not sure quite yet. I hope I have a long time to decide. I don't even know if they still put stuff on them anymore do they? Maybe the date? "A loving husband and devoted father". Don't know if I could stand to be buried under a lie. Too cheesy anyway. I want something original. "He was a dirty rotten so and so but he had a nice yard". Yeah. "He had nice grass". For now, I'm gonna stick with this one.
The house we live in is our starter house. We'll live here 4 or 5 years, build up equity and then move up to our dream home. Or build our dream home. Sigh. That was 19 years ago. It's taken a little longer to build up equity.... . But It's been a wonderful house for us and we are so grateful for our DADs provision. It's solid and has never had a problem I couldn't fix with minimal money and help from some friends. The best part though, is the grass.
I don't know how much credit I can take for the grass, it was nice when we moved here. So were the roses. I managed to kill those right off but the grass, well, it was a hearty breed. I just water it and fertilize 3 or 4 times a year and mostly it looks great. I really like to mow it. The smell of fresh cut grass on a Saturday morning is so great. But the absolute best part of my lawn is when someone comes over and says "Wow, you have a beautiful lawn". Oh stop. "No, I mean it. It's so lush and uniform". Please, you're embarrassing me. Tell me more....
Mostly, it does look nice but as I say, I just water and fertilize and DAD does the rest. Except for the weeds. He doesn't seem to want to do anything about them except let them grow. I, on the other hand, want to cast them into the pits of hell. I can sorta keep up with them if I catch them early enough. But if I don't they can be a real problem. Some times they get out of hand and I'll go out and pull them one by one. It's therapeutic. For ten minutes and then it becomes some sort of self flagellation I feel I must go through. What's discouraging is looking up and seeing hundreds of more weeds, all connected by the same root system. I can pull a few here, a few there but it doesn't matter because they're all connected by the same roots. So many roots to so many weeds. Can be overwhelming.
I'm driving and thinking about my life and how messed up it is. Not really messed up like a drug addict or a bank robber or a preacher or something. Just lots of mistakes and lost opportunities. Way too much time on my own pleasures and not enough being a lover of my God, my wife and children. I guess I'm going through mid life and looking back and seeing a yard not well cared for. Too many weeds have been allowed to grow for too long and now it's a daunting task to weed my life. So much of life is connected, just like the weeds, and I sometimes don't know where to start. Do you ever feel this way? Like no matter where you you start, it really wont make much of a difference. But start I must. And you too. It's never to late. It may feel like it but it's never too late to do right. I hope I can. I'm a great starter but lousy finisher. It's a weed.
So ask me. Ask me how my grass is. Are the weeds in retreat? Tell me you'll help me. Cheer me on. I want to make my yard (world) a better place. I just want to be better.