A New Year

This is the first blog I've typed on a laptop and it's hard for me to get used to the keyboard. That's why it's taking me so long to type this. In case you were wondering why so slow...

I have a song stuck in my head. Well, really just three words of a song. They say it's a sign of a tired mind when this happens. It's a sign of a SMALL mind when it's only three words. Actually, I don't even know if it was a real song. It was the theme to a TV show- do those count? The Love Boat theme. I watched that show all the time. Fantasy Island too. They came on on Saturday nights which is why I could watch them. All my friends had dates with the fairer sex those nights. Me? I thought it was a good idea to skip the date stuff and watch a shows with a guys named Gopher and Tattoo. Yep. Small mind.

"...Exciting and new...". Those are the words stuck in my head. I guess I had been thinking about the "exciting and new" year coming up and after such a trying year just ending I was being hopeful. Hope springs eternal right?

I've been married 20 some odd years. I say it like this because I never remember exactly how many it really is. I think 27? 28? It's like my kids birthday's. At some point you don't really need to KNOW their age as much as to know what day to give a gift. Same with anniversaries right? I buy chocolates and flowers on February 10th. Or is it the 11th....

Something I noticed in my 20 some odd years is when we get into and argument and it's not ironed out before bed we have to have start from the beginning all over again the next day because I don't remember what we talked about the night before. I feel for my poor wife. I'd like to blame it on being a guy but nah, it's just me.I have a vague memory of the "discussion" but not the emotion or intensity or details of it. Like my life was reset over night and I start all over anew. As if...

It would be great to start over though wouldn't it? There was movie a couple years ago called 50 First Dates in which a lady couldn't remember ANYTHING from the previous day. No worries or hang-ups with our yesterdays, we just move into a bright future. In a way I think we all hope for this on January first. The big reset in our lives each year. It's in vogue to poo-poo new years resolutions and not start anything different. Or instead of resolutions we set "goals" which is laughable. Same thing as far as I can tell. But January 1st is a hopeful time and I'm bound and determined to make some resolutions! So here goes....

-Learn to type. This hunting and pecking is for amateurs. Though I'm doing less and less hunting as the keys seem to be in the same place from day to day.
-Invent a new keyboard. You know how they have those phones for old people with 2 inch wide buttons? I want a keyboard like that, like 3 feet wide so when I give up learning to type next week I'll have something easier to use.
-Exercise more. I have the equipment and the desire. I'd like to have the git up and go to play with the grand kids.
-Eat better
-Eat better
-Eat better
-Wash my wife's car. It's not a fancy car but at least it could clean.
-Deny myself, take up the cross and follow Jesus. At least some. Last year was pathetic

Well, that's enough. I'll be happy if I do a few of them for more than a few weeks. At least until my anniversary on February 10th. ish. I pray that as you enter your new year there is an optimism about life in the coming 12 months. That God will grant you the desires of your heart and that your desires aren't stupid. I'd like to type a bit more but I really got to pee sooo....

Ohhhh...I Get It!

I see they're re-releasing Star Wars Episode 1- The Phantom Menace in February. In 3-D. I guess that's good news. I say I guess because I'm not sure I really liked it. I am a huge Star Wars fan and it had been 16 years since the last one came out so I was really excited and wanted so bad for this one to be good. And I guess it was good except for one thing. That stupid Jar Jar Binks!

Hummm.....blech.

 That's a lame beginning. I've been wanting to write something for Christmas day to post but it's just not coming together. I had an idea come to mind while watching The Grinch on the 2nd most high holy day of the Christmas season, Black Friday and ever since then I've been rolling it over in my mind and talking to myself to try to get something going. I keep talkin' but I just can't find it. Those homeless people you see talking to themselves as they walk down the street? They're not crazy. Just trying to write a blog.

It was epiphany. That was the thought I had watching the Grinch Who Stole Christmas a couple weeks back. Epiphany is, according to Dictionary.com (does anyone use a paper dictionary anymore?)  "a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight  into the essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple or commonplace occurrence, experience or understanding". That's what the Grinch experienced while pulling on his sleigh trying not to let his ill gotten booty cascade over the precipice into the void of eternity. Wow. That was a good sentence. Think I'll save that one and use it when I write something good. "...into the void of eternity...."

Basically the Grinch got it. As the Who's in Whoville sang (what IS that song anyway?) the Grinch had his epiphany and his heart grew 3 times it's normal size, breaking out of the xray measuring box and he lifts the sleigh and returns the whole kit and kabootle to Whoville, repents and gives all the stuff back and is given the seat of honor and gets to carve the roast beast while sitting next to Cindy Lou Who, that's who. Always a happy ending in the cartoons.

The paragraph you're not reading now is about Darth Vader and HIS epiphany which would have tied in nicely with the opening paragraph. sigh...dummy.


Thomas needed an epiphany. You remember him, the one who doubted? He got it. Jesus showed up and stood in front of a guy He'd walked with every day for 3 years who still didn't get it. He held out His hands and told Thomas to touch and see. He did and he did. My Lord and my God Thomas said. That must have felt so good. Jesus said it was good he finally got it but it would have been better if he'd just figured it out  without the touching. I guess I always wanted to be one of the ones who just heard and believed and I think maybe I'm sorta that way but but I'm realizing I some times need to touch His hand.

I want an epiphany for Christmas. To see and feel those nail scared hands. I want to wake up this day and get it. Get that God is real and is worthy of ALL my love, attention and affection. He's worth dying for, worth being made fun of for, worth not being liked for. He is worth having nothing if it meant I could get closer to Him or help others get there too. Epiphany. It's a gift and I want to get it. For my Dad.


Merry Christmas and happy epiphany to you all.

O Christmas Tree

Christmas time! My favorite time of year. For now. Think I'll give it one more year and if we have no money for gifts for a forth year in a row I'm gonna give up on this commercialism bit and go back to worshiping God for His kindness to us. Sigh. The right thing to do for sure but I kinda liked the old getting and giving stuff thing we had going. Ho ho ho and Happy Holidays and all. I only say this stuff so you can see how shallow is the man who types the printed word before you. Run now while you still have a chance!

I watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer the other night. The cartoon, though it's not really a cartoon right? Some sort of puppet or clay-mation thing. I watch that and Santa Clause is Coming to Town (you know, the one with the Burger Meister Meister Burger. Didn't you love to say that name?) And the Little Drummer Boy and Frosty the Snowman. Frosty WAS a cartoon as was the best, Charlie Brown Christmas. Classic!

My heart is sad for the generations who have had the misfortune of growing up after the 70's. VCR's. Yeah I know, right? It ruined all the Christmas shows. I remember carefully studying the TV guide after Thanksgiving to be sure which nights the Christmas shows were on. My shows anyway. I didn't much care for the Lawerence Welk or Andy Williams specials. Back then you got one shot at 'em and if you missed them you had to wait a whole YEAR to see them again. No options there. THAT is what made them special. Now, kids can watch them all year long. A travesty.

We bought our tree this year at Lowes. A real one, not one of those fake thingy's that everyone gets these days. If you have one of those shame on you. Things are made of wood dowels and green pipe cleaners. Some come with their own lights for gosh sakes! Where's the fun in that? Do yourself a favor and toss it out and go get a real one. And don't wimp out and put those mini lights on it, go out and get yourself a dozen strands of the old screw in type lights, you know, the ones that get hot enough to light a tree on fire. That's walking by faith at Christmas time. I think Jesus would like that!

Ok, so I caught Charlie Brown as it was coming on last week and I was really excited but quickly deflated when I found I was watching it alone. No one wanted to see it. The general consensus was "geez dad, grow up". I didn't. I watched and I cried which is what I do when I'm touched. Not THAT kind of touched. Some times God speaks to me though the dumbest things. Like Charlie browns tree.

I've had a pretty rough year this year. If you've read any of my previous ramblings you know I've had a pretty rough this year for 3 years in a row and I'm sorta tired of it. My business is faltering, my health is just fair, sometimes my marriage is a challenge, I'm fat and lazy and I'm beginning to think my male pattern balding isn't a passing faze. And worst of all my walk with Jesus is soooo bad I'm not sure I can keep calling this blog "Stumbling with Jesus". In short, I'm Charlies tree. Pathetic.

In the end though, Charlie Browns tree turned out to be pretty awesome and the kids were so impressed they gathered 'round and sang. I think Charlie felt like HE was the tree, pathetic and a laughing stock and he ran out and missed the whole transforming process that turned the tree into the something special he saw on the tree lot. It surprised a lot of people. Maybe most of all him.

I know God chose me. He saw something in me that was so special He took me home with Him and call me His own and vowed to decorate me into something beautiful that would one day reflect His own beauty and aroma. Oh how often I've run out on the  process thinking I'm ugly and worthless and destined for the curb. Never remembering His promise to make me beautiful and pure. Sometimes, I'm a sad excuse for a son. But a son I am and I hope this Christmas will be special for Him because the tree He saw so much beauty and promise in is willing to let the Master do His best.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Once upon a time there was a forest on a hill which was so lush and beautiful that people would stop and look with awe and wonder and from time to time they would run up close just to touch it. One day the owner of the hill noticed the forest starting to die out and recede up the hill and after a time only the sides of the hill contained any remnants of it's former beauty. And lo, sadness overcame him.

Terri cut my hair tonight. Funny. It seems like not too long ago I never wanted it cut. Guess that was back when I had more. I like the fact I said "had more". Means I still have SOME! It used to be that I'd have to change the vacuum bag after a cut. Now Terri say the dustbuster will do fine. Or she uses those little broom and dust pans you get to clean out the car. man.....

I got out of the shower the other day and was looking at my forehead, the part where hair used to grow. I saw one little hair down there all by itself, curled up like it was cold and all alone in the world. Poor thing had been left behind when all the others had migrated south. To my back. What's the deal with back hair after 40? I reached up and pulled it out. I had to. I know what it's like to be lonely.

I try to keep my hair sorta short these days. Guys with a balding pate don't look all that great with long hair. I guess you can go the whole comb over route but really, everyone knows you're trying to hide something. And most people who do this think it works. " Dennis, what's different? You look great. Did you get a new tie? Wait, weren't you bald yesterday?"

I'm trying to decide whether to get a buzz cut or not. Not all the way off though. Leave enough on to let people know I've still got it going on up there. I'm not sure this will happen though. Terri doesn't think it'll look good and since she's the one with the scissors....

I was talking with a friend today about things not being like we thought they'd be when we grew up. We're all pretty idealistic when we're 20 and it didn't matter what the old folks told us it would be like. Which is probably for the best. If they really KNEW what might be in store they'd never leave home. Why I'm not telling my kids nothing. 'Cept how great it is "out there". Don't y'all screw this up for me. Just a couple more years, a couple more years... .

 I thought my life would be better. Easier somehow. It's not. I'm ok with this on some level because I know that's how life is. We all have out share of struggles I just thought there would be more victories and stories of over-coming. Instead I find I'm not too different from 25 years ago and that makes me sad. I AM different of course but maybe some how not different enough. I feel bad for my family. I shoulda been better. And I still can be but I wasted a lot of time. I move forward....

I know some of you out there who's life is hard. Your hopes and dream, your expectations and plans receded like my hair line. you never saw it coming. And you cry and weep and think you can't take much more and wonder where the heck is God. I've been there, got the tee shirt. I wish I knew what to say to the hurting and lonely but I'm not good with words and even less so with wisdom. I think for me it's finding a friend(s) to talk with. Sometimes you gotta try a few because some don't really know what to say and never call you back. That's ok, some folks can't relate. But lots do care. I do. Just don't let yourself get stuck out there like my little hair. You make yourself an easy target for plucking. If you ever want to talk I'd love to hear from you. Maybe we can figure out...well...something. I do know Jesus loves me and I walk (or stumble) with Him and He said He'd never leave or forsake me and for today, that's enough.

Birthday Present

It was my birthday the other day. I turned 48. It seems weird to see the number 48. In regard to my age anyway. 48 is usually my bank account balance. Cents. Are we old at this age? I used to think so and based on all the ailments I've experienced of late I think I may be. I said weird because I may feel 48 a lot of days in my body but in my mind I'm much younger, like 12. Looking at my check book you'd agree.

I stopped by moms house to drop off a check. Told her to cash it before the account got back down to...well, you know.  She gave me a birthday gift and a card. Do we really need to give a card with the gift? I said thanks and smiled and walked out holding my gift. I was disappointed as I walked to the truck because I had shaken the gift box. No noise. Remember when you were a kid and you got a box that rattled? Model airplane, Lego's, board game, a box of army men. All good stuff. Then you get this box that doesn't rattle or worse,  a package that goes limp in your hand.What is it with moms and giving clothes? Mine gives underwear, tee shirts and socks. Undergarments. And you have to open this stuff in front of your friends at the party. I'm glad I wasn't a girl.

I went home and complained to my wife. It fell on deaf ears- turns out she's a mom too. "Oh gee whiz Mark  grow up! What are you, 12?"

I like to get gifts though, whether it rattles or not. Don't know who invented the whole birthday gift thing but I'd like to shake his hand. What a wonderful invention that means something different at different ages. When you're 7 it's all about the mystery inside the box and all the fun you will have with it. When you're, say, 48, it's about the mystery outside the box. It really IS the thought that counts ( this is definitely NOT true when you're 7. Please, get 'em something to play with). The thought is love. You're special. And I really do feel special. Special enough to wear the underwear mom bought. Even though she still thinks I'm a 32....

I did get a gift a long time ago that I still hold special. It was from my Dad. It didn't come in a box I could shake or in fancy Batman wrapping paper with a big bow. It came in a shroud that was dirty and stained and bloody and laid on a cold floor in a dark cave. I never got to see this gift or hold it but it's my most prized possession and without it I am ruined. 2000 years ago a Man loved His Dad so much that He gave his very life for me and as I type this I cry and weep for I am so unworthy. I am wretched and foul and so undeserving but my Dad said "Mark, it is all that foul wretchedness I wiped away with that shroud and it is gone. Forgotten. You are my love, and you are my son and I'll love being with you forever. Happy birthday".

Forever. I like the sound of that. As it turns out, 48's not so old after all....

Making It

I used to love the Dollar Stores. How great is it to walk into someplace and EVERYTHING is the same price! No price checks at the register, no looking for the price tag or the label on the shelf. A buck. Even I could figure this out. Though I did have a problem when they had, say candy bars, two for a dollar. Ok, two I could figure out but if I were buying for a group and needed like 25 I started to panic a little. 25 is more than the fingers and toes I have AND it's an odd number so there'd be change involved. I sweat and start to shake when I do math and invariably the clerk would ask "Sir, may I help you?" and I would have to drop the candy and run away so as not to look like an idiot.

When my kids were little the Dollar Store was a great place at Christmas time. You could go in there with $30 and get ALL your Christmas shopping done. I took Terri in case there was math involved.  Good times.

Nothing you bought held up though. I mean, it's a dollar right. I remember trying to cut open a plastic bag with my dollar scissors. Nope. I tore open the bag and off came Barbie's head. Oops. Same with everything you got there. Nothing was made to last. Except the candy. I still can't get that off of me...

I like to make things. As a kid I loved to help my mom make cookies, help my dad make things with wood, with nuts and bolts. I guess that's why I work in the construction field- I get to make things. Hopefully things that'll last.

 I was watching a a show on Netflix the other day about how things are made. One of those shows that take you to the factory to show how cars, pants, computers and dollar store Barbies are made. Some things are so complicated with so many moving parts it's a wonder it ever all comes together and actually works! But they do and hundreds or thousands are boxed up and sent out every day. Simply amazing.

The thing that fascinated me the most were the car factory turning out thousands of such complicated machines. And not really the machines but the machines that MAKE the machines (is that confusing? I almost got lost). Who made these things? They are so complicated and precise, cutting metal, screwing screws, attaching and soldering tiny pieces in place, all at a blistering pace. It almost seems impossible. How creative these things are.

It makes me think what a wonder WE are. How we're put together and made.Not just out bodies but out soul and spirit too. Often we hear life is a process, a journey, and that God is making us into something wonderful. We're no dollar store Barbie but the real deal from Mattel. (well, I'm a Ken I think). The process is often loud and noisy and hot and dirty but that's how life is sometimes. Often it's not much fun but God has made these special sort of machines: situations, trials and tribulations really, to cut, grind, shape and polish you into this work of His creation. If we could just stand back from time and space and see Him working. We'd be so impressed.

Watch This...

I ask someone what time it was the other day. They searched their pockets for 30 seconds before saying "Sorry dude. Left my phone in the car." Doesn't anyone wear a watch anymore? I don't but then I never did. If you can't tell time what's the point....

I was 6 when Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. I don't think I was all that aware of what was happening or that it was a big deal. I was 6. For all I knew we landed there all the time. I paid more attention to Apollo 17 in 1972 and knew all about it. I was much more aware. After all, I was 9 now.

I never wanted to be an astronaut. It was much too dangerous and I didn't like Tang. But really, who did? It tasted like bland orange swill and the only reason we'd be caught drinking it was 'cause the astronauts drank it. I bet even THEY didn't drink it. They probably had a fifth of liquor in each of those space suit pockets.

No, I wanted to one of the guys behind the scenes. Like the engineers. Or the guys in Mission Control. You remember them. As the camera pans the room you see a hundred guys behind a hundred tv monitors watching who knows what through those black Drew Cary glasses. All of them had a white shirt with a loosened tie and a sports coat hanging over their chair, chain smoking cigarettes and rubbing they forehead. Way cool.

I was thinking about those guys today. They've all got to be retired by now right? Retired or dead from lung cancer. I want one of those jobs now. Not because of the work itself but because of the job security. Gone are the days I guess of starting with a company and sticking around for 40 years. Then they throw you a party, give you a gold watch and boot you out the door. That's livin'!

I always wondered- why a gold watch? Did it mean "times up, get out" or more like "now you have time, time in your golden years to do all the things you wanted to do (or should have done) when you were younger. I hope it's the latter.

Here's something else I hope. That I don't wait for the gold watch to start doing something with my time. It's not that having a watch magically GIVES you time but maybe it just helps you manage it better. To use it to love those around you. To give my time to make sure someone knows they matter is a great use of that precious resource God has entrusted me with. I hope I'm smart enough to do it.

Some day I get to retire from this life. I don't think it comes with a watch. I'll stand before my Dad and He'll say "Nice job son, welcome home."By the way, do you know what time it is?" I'll search my pockets (I never did get used to a watch) and come up empty. But that's ok. Who needs time when you have forever?

Wasting Away

I dread getting older. I think I wouldn't mind BEING old, say, in my middle 60's. Upper 60's. Isn't it funny how the older you get your definition of old changes a bit. In college 48 was way old and now that I'm 48 (or will be next week) the middle 60's don't seen all that old. I'm sure that in a year or two the upper 60's will be full of spring chickens. Anyway, it's not the being old, it's the getting old. I mean, If we have to get there, being old that is, wouldn't you like Genie to blink her eyes and your magically 67 and enjoying the golden years?. Yes, I'm odd and it's ok if you stop reading now.

I have an abdominal strain I'm dealing with this week. A pulled muscle of some sort, according to Dr. Google. He's great isn't he? I don't know what I did, it just started hurting. Very sharp pains and spasms in my gut. I know it wasn't anything I ate as I've not strayed out of the 2 basic food groups. Doughnuts and cupcakes. But man! The pain is sharp and I almost double over. My wife said now I know what menstrual cramps are like. I'm sorry for every joke I ever told about that....

The thing about getting older is that this stuff happens more often. I said the other day that in the last 6 weeks I had a groin pull, threw out my back, developed tendinitis in my foot and now this abdominal thingy. Yikes! soon I'll be gaining weight and my hair will start  falling out. Wait.... . That's what I mean. If I could skip this getting older part and just be there.

Men are big and strong and can handle anything. Until they get sick. I'd say they act like a woman but have you seen a woman who is sick? She doesn't just quit, she just keeps going and getting it done. Me? Not so much. I whine and moan and am such a 3 year old. I guess I'm like that on a good day just more so when I don't feel well.

So I'm bent over yesterday in pain and I'm sure it's can't be a muscle pull. It HAS to be liver failure or pancreatic cancer right? This is where my mind goes every time. I'm gonna die. Tragically and before my time. sigh...

I thought about my last few months of life. What would I do if I knew I'd be gone in 6 months? I'd lament things the mistakes and missed opportunities of course. Then I'd do the things with my family I should have done more of, fishing and bowling, board games and walks in the park. Look my wife in the eyes and tell her I love her. I was in some guy's yard while thinking this. It must have been a sight for passer by seeing this burly (ok,fat) guy with a tool belt weeping in the front yard. It wasn't stomach pain.

I'm not gonna die in 6 months. At least according to Dr. Google. But I will be busy. Busy living this getting older process and doing the things I needed to be doing all along. Doing them well and not wasting the days. It's never too late. I hope....

World Tour

       I heard God was going to be in St. Pete this past weekend. God? Who knew He had a tour going? This must have been the Florida leg. I wasn't going to go because it cost $275. I knew the economy was weak but how bad is it when God charges $275. I'd always been told salvation was free...

      I was out of work last week (previously mentioned weak economy?) so I spent some time at the church building doing some repairs. Some guy showed up 2 years ago and ripped out some rotten wood and never returned to finish. Amazing. It's no wonder he's out of money and no one calls him back.sigh. My wife's just happy I finally finished something I started.

      Tom came buy while I was working. I love Tom- he's one of the long hairs from the 60's who love Jesus. He said I should come to St. Pete with the other men to see God. He said the money was there for me to go and since I was out of work I should pick up my mat and follow him. I figured how often do you get to see God for free (at least these days) so I went.

      The drive down was nice. Tom can TALK! Lots of stories about the Jesus movement back in the day. I did try to pray a bit during the few quiet moments going down. I didn't want to meet Him cold without have done SOME religious stuff! When I pray I really do try to listen to Him speak to me so I said some stuff and waited. I couldn't wait too long 'cause like I said, Tom likes to talk. I thought I heard Him say "Fart", as in I should. I mean, I had to but how often does God tell you to fart? I never even say the word and here's God saying Fart?I think it was kind of a break the ice in a car full of men thing I think. I didn't but I should have. Then we'd ALL have stories to tell.

      We bunked up at an Episcopal camp ground which was nice. The cabins were nice and the beds were comfy, the food was good (it was all you could eat so the quality wasn't so important) and they had rocking chairs on the porch. If you don't know me, that last part was very important. Still, a little chintzy if you're having God come in don't you think? He said don't worry though. He'd stayed at a Holiday Inn Express so it was all good. Cool.

       We had lots of meetings. You've been to these things - they're terrible for guys with ADHD, why we need the rockers. Lots of stuff said and all good and helpful and all but I was there to see the main act, hear what HE had to say but the warm up acts just kept coming and coming. For THREE days! In the between times they asked us to take our journals and go to a quiet place and pray. Listen. Nod off wasn't in the program but I did a little of that too. I went to the rocking chair every time. I rocked for hours this weekend. I was disappointed though. He never did show up for the meetings

       I'm home now. Some how a better man. It turns out God likes to rock too. He had His chair next to mine on the deck. His was a better chair than mine, it didn't make any noise so I was surprised to learn He was there and that He had said a lot. Things I needed to hear, thing I need to learn a lot more about. Maybe I'll write about it one day. We spent some time on the value thing because He knows I have trouble with that one. I don't think I'm much of a man sometimes. Not valuable. He says we have some work to do on that one but that He's up to the task. He's very nice to me. And very committed. He's a good Dad.

       So keep your eyes open. I don't know how long the tour goes for but if you see it advertised make it a point to go. You wont regret it. And bring a chair. He likes to rock.

Value

      

        When I was in high school I had 2 teachers with cool cars. One guy had a '74 Corvette and the other had a Porsche Turbo something or the other. A cool looking car but it was brown. Who buys a sports car in the color brown? That's like an accountants color. Or teacher. I said I'd have one of those cars when I get older and I'd love to. I'm just not older yet.

         I went to college once, for about 6 years. I only managed to make it to being a junior so I figured maybe school was not for me. I did get a pretty special wife out of the deal though. After I quit I went to work for a builder for a while. "Amazing Builders". I'm sure the name sounded better after a 6-pack. Good guys tho and they knew how to build a house. We built a few big ones on Palm Beach, one that easily over 20,000 sq. feet. Talk about grand. I did the rough carpentry, framing, trusses, form work, etc. so I never got to see the finished house. Well, the inside anyway. I drove by after it was finished. Wow. I said I would live in a place like that when I was older. Again, I'm not older.

          My wife and I have been at odds over a couple of things of late that we're working out. They didn't tell me there would be "working out" stuff in marriage. I just thought it would be sex and....well, sex. But that's relationships. They take work. Sometimes we find that the time it takes to work things out is measured not with a clock but rather a calendar. And that's so hard isn't it? Most things in life can be solved with the right answer right now but the marriage thing or the child thing or the in-law thing is a bit more difficult. For me, some times I get lost in the process and start to feel unimportant. Not valuable. We all get that way don't we? Just nod your head and say yes. It'll make me feel better...

            I have a friend in another city who lost their job. A great worker who just ran out of work. And life has been a struggle for them. He's really down. I hope he'll make it. It's been a terrible year for my business this year and for guys some of our value is tied up in what we do (it shouldn't be) and we feel...less of a man somehow. We can't provide. Protect. Be what a man is supposed to be. And we feel all alone.

           I was thinking about those sports cars and the mansion. We want 'em because they're hot and glitzy and we look good driving them or walking out the front door. I used to fantasize about that stuff all the time I think because I wanted someone to look at me and say he's rich. Or deeper, he's got value. But our worth doesn't come from our stuff or station in life. It comes from God. It just doesn't feel like it sometimes.

         So as you work through life and you hit those spots where marriage, job, money, kids are giving you the business and you feel like a failure on a lot of levels and not worth much, remember God said you are valuable. I can tell you that right now in my life that sounds so hollow and stupidly religious. I hate saying things like that but it's the truth and I gotta keep that ever before me. I want to persevere and win.

        If you would, keep tabs on people who are in a bad way. Love them. Encourage them. They need to know they matter. They need to know that whether they're on the clock or the calendar, you'll be there with them. Just like Jesus.

      

Hidden

       I had a thought come to me today that I'd like to write about. Except I don't remember what it was which has me frustrated with this whole old age thing. That's gotta be it, right? The old pumpkins missing some seeds? I'm also fatter, balder and wake up with more aches and pains than I could have imagined. That's the problem with being 20, you think it'll never happen to you, but just wait. And we ignore the signs. People should be more honest. "Of COURSE that dress makes you look fat!" or "no dear that wasn't the porch, it was your knees making that noise". So I guess I can diet and exercise from the neck down but what to do from the neck up? Sudoku?
        I was at a prayer thingy the other night listening to others pray and I'm just trying to listen. For my Dad. I don't really listen to others much on account of they ain't talking to me. I always laugh when some one says "speak up, we can't hear you". Somebody threw out some scripture and some one else said something which I don't remember (the brain thing again) but some thought came to mind about praying to hear my Dads voice. I don't know how you pray in a group (I don't really like to) but I just get quiet in my own mind and say "what do You want me to ask for" and I wait. I get nothing lots of times but sometimes I'll get a thought and I'll start asking Him about it and before long I have this conversation but then don't want to say it out loud because it's like giving a speech to all the others about what I already talked about. Geez. I'm so messed up....
        Treasure hunt. That's a word Dad gave someone while I was making my speech. When we were through he said to me that God has a treasure hunt for me. He didn't know what it means but he'd like to hunt with me so we're going to meet for coffee and try to figure it out.
        Driving in my van today I was thinking about treasure and how my Dad is a treasure. He surely is but I feel so hollow saying that because my friendship with Him doesn't really reflect that. I'm embarrassed to say I feel as far away from Him as I ever have. I've been in a desert for quite a while now (maybe of my own making) and He just seem....distant. Not real. How do you get to the point that He's not real? I know he is (real) and it's why we still talk but it feels like a one way conversation. I hear He's got a book out so I may go to the library and check it out. Anyway He said to me (I think) "What if everything was gold" as in "streets of gold kind" of thing. Something so common you didn't even notice it anymore. It's still gold, precious and valuable. Just not noticed anymore.
          So maybe that's the treasure hunt - rediscovering the priceless in the mundane. I sure would like to find Him again. To really really love Him again. I'm meeting my friend for coffee tomorrow morning and we'll set off on an adventure to...well, I guess not to a where but to a who. Pray for me. I do so value what you have to say to Him about me. Thanks

Buildings

They're making Tinker toys out of wood again much to my relief. For a while there they were making them out of plastic. Some things shouldn't change. Like toys. It bugs me that Tonka trucks are made of plastic. Erector sets? Plastic. That's a crime. Lincoln logs thankfully are still made of wood. They are aren't they? I remember my first Erector set, all metal and about the size of a deck of cards. They crammed a lot in that little box. I never built anything recognizable 'cause I'm mentally retarded but it kept me busy until I lost most of the pieces, which was probably an hour. I was 5.

I was talking to a friend and pondering how we turn out. How when we're teens or college students and we think about how we'll be when we're all grown up and we imagine only good stuff. But few of us make it to grown-up-hood on the path we imagined nor does it look like we imagined. Well, mine didn't. Really, I don't think I had a path in mind nor what I'd look like. Somehow I imagined more hair and less gut though. I have the ability to be able to not think past next week which is probably how I got here. Think it's time to think in bigger chunks. Maybe a month at a time.

They built 4 stories of an 8 story building here in town and then ran out of money. Oops. During the 80's and 90's I'd go to Orlando a few times a year and there was this condo that had the same problem I guess. It was 10 or 15 stories and just a concrete shell that seemed to get a little dingier each time I saw it and eventually started to have vines creeping up the sides. It was a shame really. I love tall buildings and to see such a strong structure disappear behind neglect and poor planning was a crime. Look at me, I'm starting to cry. Somebody did come up with some money I think because I came back one day and it was finished and looked pretty sharp.

So I built things with my erector set and tinker toys. Structures, buildings. But just the shell of a building because there wasn't anything to put on it like walls, windows doors. Think that came later with the Legos that I never got. Thanks mom. But they were pretty awesome looking to me.

My Dad builds structures too. Of flesh and bone and personality. Of spirit. Strong structures. I got to see a lot of them in college and I was so impressed with His handy work. I still am. It's around this time I think we start adorning our building, putting on an education, a career, a spouse, children, homes...or at least how we start out. For some of us we now live in a gleaming glass tower of person-hood with fountains and nice landscape. Others of us it's a good solid office building, nothing fancy but it works. And some of us, well, our structure looks like the building in Orlando. Covered in dirt and mold and vines so that now people hardly recognize what's underneath. Sometimes it's our fault. Sometimes life just gets dumped on us. But no matter. It's what's below the glass or vines. It's the foundation, the building. That My Dad built. Such a good work. He is so good.

I wrote this for me, kinda typing therapy. Not real happy with the way my building looks after 47 years and I wish it were different in places. I know life is a work in progress all the way through and I keep working but some days I just cry. It's pretty hard and sometimes lonely. But I am somebody special, if to nobody else, my Dad. He is so good to me and He built a great structure on which I hope to hang something special enough to garner Him much applause and praise.It's never too late, for me or you.

Zzzzzzzz.......

There's this weird thing. You fall asleep and at some point you wake up and can hear whats going on around you but it's like only your mind is awake but your body can't move. Like you're only 1/2 awake. It's a real condition that has a name but I don't remember it so I know it's not just me. It happened to me in math class in 9th grade, at least that's the first time I remember it. I had pre-algebra right after lunch with Mr. Thomas. Who puts a math class right after lunch? Remember as a kid (this is going back a few years) riding down the highway in the back seat and the drone of the tires on the road and the ka-thunk ka-thunk of the joints in the road would lull you right into dreamland. Man that was good sleep! Mr. Thomas' voice was very monotone and sounded a lot like the highway and zzzzz... . Here was the weird thing. I was asleep, soft snore and drool coming out of my mouth and everything but I could hear him and and other sounds too but I couldn't move. I felt like I was in a box, all packed away and didn't know if it would open. So in my mind I paniced 'cause I'm claustrophobic and don't like being in small boxes. "Someone wake me up" I would scream. "In space no one can here you scream" was the tag line for the movie Alien. Apparently the same holds true in math class. Eventually Mr. Thomas would slap a ruler on the desk and yell "Wake up peckerhead" and bring me around. Don't think he was actually allowed to say that.

Hummm. That seemed like a long paragraph.

So I was talking to this guy the other day and he said he hated his job but it was all he knew. He felt trapped in a big box and couldn't get out. The top was open and he could see freedom, feel the breeze of freedom and hear others enjoying their freedom. But he was trapped. Had been and would be as far into the future as he could imagine. A lot of anguish in this guy. And truthfully I've been there a lot myself. I told him a few hollow pieces of advice about fixing your eyes on Jesus blah blah blah... . It did no good. Not that it wasn't good advice but when you're in the middle of some serious crap in life "fixing your eyes" is harder to do than gargling paint thinner. I really felt bad for the guy. He just wanted out.

This sleep thing. I still have that problem from time to time. During the night. Not math class (which, surprise surprise, I flunked) I "wake up" and know it's happening and I feel like I can't breath and I think I'm going to die and I buck and shake and flail about while my body remains still. Too freaky. Somewhere alone the way though I've managed to learn to moan out loud enough for Terri to hear and she rolls over and shoves me and that's all it takes to free me from my box. It sometimes is really scary. It seems so real. The trapped feeling I mean. So glad for my wife.

It's what I needed to do for my friend. A shove. A push. A big kiss. Ok, that's awkward. Sometimes what people need is not a word, spiritual though it may be, but an action. I could hear Mr. Thomas. I can hear Terri's snor.....breathing. Action is the word for the day kids. Go bowling, hiking, catch a movie, watch the game. Get together for lunch, for prayer, for fishing. Go serve someone in need. Together. Be a friend. Help them walk "through the valley of the shadow of death". Be there. That's all. Just be there.

Whoa-oh-oh, Listen to the Music

You know what I miss? I mean other than Johnny Quest? The drive-in. Fond memories of dad and mom pulling up to that metal pole and taking that speaker and hanging it on the window. There was always static when you turned up the volume. It was only slightly more annoying than when the sound of the movie came out of it. Our movies always started with a "thump thump thump" sound coming from the trunk. My brothers. My dad said why pay full price when 3 of you fit in the trunk. He was good with money that way. My mom took me to see Godzilla at the drive in once. That my friend, is real love. I hear they're reopening the drive-in again down in Ocala. That was 6 months ago and I still haven't heard. I hope so though. I want to go. I'm too old to steam up the windows now days but I can pass gas without causing a commotion.

I had breakfast with my friend Neil this week. Neil is a really neat guy. Really smart. We started a couple of weeks ago meeting for breakfast for food, encouragement, friendship. Good stuff. But the coffee's not. May have to change venues. It's a buffet but I don't think I get my $7 worth. Buffets are best left for the evening hour when you can pack it in, go home and recline in the lazyboy and really let the fat settle in around those thighs and hips.

Whether it's the drive-in or the theater I like to see those inspirational movies where the underdog comes from obscurity to best the champ. Like Rocky. Chariots of fire. Or when Peter Parker beat Bonesaw in the steel cage match. The one I think I like the best is Invincible with Mark Walburg. Football movie. Great 70's music. The one thing most of these movies have in common is when these characters pick themselves up by the boot straps (what exactly are boot straps) and start transforming from a weak nobody to the victor there is this great music in the background motivating them on. Who can run up a flight of steps or punch a side of beef without hearing the Rocky theme? When I hear one of these songs there's something in my mind that rises up and makes me want to work hard. To fight on. Need to get that stuff on my MP3.

We had a cookout at a friends house on Memorial day and had a really nice time. Great conversation and we talked some about how I've been feeling of late. Great questions asked and I got to say out loud what I've been thinking to myself and have people listen and say some encouraging words. Bright words. Good friends. Should do this more often. A lot more.

So I'm working last week off a ladder, thinking about theme music and how I want to make changes to my life and how I feel like one of the underdogs and I have so far to go. Again. Probably only a few of us out there who are always starting over 'cause we forget to try hard and find ourselves back at the start. If we just had that music. That music that makes you fight, sweat, push yourself harder than you knew you could, do thing you didn't know you could. Be inspired just like you feel when you watch the movie. Theme music.

"You have that" my Dad says. "You are that. Sorta". "You SHOULD be that". Your friend Neil is the music. Your pool party friends are. The people who care for you are. The church is your music. Or at least should be. They are the ones who come into your life and encourage and inspire you to greater deeds. Push and pull you into places you thought not possible. It's why I made 'em. And you too. Find your brothers and sisters, your wife and kids and spur them on into a deeper walk with Me. Be that music in their ear." And in His best Forrest Gump voice He said "That's all I got to say about that". 'nuff said.

Mr. Poopy Pants

It's been a while. January 17 to be exact. Since I wrote anything I mean. I was driving in the car tonight thinking about writing and how much I like it. Or the idea of it anyway. Some days back last year when I was writing an idea would lodge itself in my mine and I couldn't wait to get home and start writing and mostly I didn't really know where I was going with the thought or idea but it just came out. Admittedly none of my writing is all that good but it felt so good to get it out. I was beginning I had something worth some value. (I have lots worth value but this was a new and shiny thing of value). Then I stopped.

Can I be gross? Sure, why not you say. I can say you say 'cause it's my blog. And I'm a boy at heart and this is what goes through my mind. Constipation. I've not been constipated much in my life, thank God. Diarrhea, sure lots. If you eat like I do, well... . I have a great digestive system so being plugged up doesn't happen that often but when it does, MAN! I sit on the pot and wait and wait, grit my teeth and groan and...well, you get the picture. Told you I was gross. So I sit and wait and wait for that magical POP when my intestines let go of what they've for too long held onto. Ok. Enough.

I'm kind of in depression. I think. Really I'm not sure what depression is But I sorta feel bummed out a lot and can't seem to get motivated to do lots. It feels like there's no life in my life which isn't true but it sure feels that way. And I avoid people more than I ought because I don't want to lie, "...Great Shirley, how are you...?" or dump on someone"...don't ask how he is Frank, he'll unload..." so I stay around the fringes. And It's lonely out here. Life is hard and sometimes doesn't turn out like you imagine. You think you can deal with a hard marriage, hard job, mediocre and getting worse health but at some point some of run out of steam and you want to retire to the lazyboy and just melt into history. How I feel some days. I posted once that midlife crisis is realizing that you're not all that, and you don't have the strength or energy to become half of what people think you are. I feel that way. But I am special. I am talented and gifted and have much to offer, for a long time. I hope. I doesn't really matter what people think I guess. Really just matters what my Dad says. He likes me.

So here I sit in front of the keyboard hoping to write something. Sigh. It's been a long time. Lots of times I've sat here over the last months with my fingers (well, just the typing two) poised over the keys waiting for magic words to appear in my mind and I draw blanks. Nothing. Nada. Mind constipation, trying to squeeze something out but all I get are the shakes and sweats. Bummer. And I bought all this mind toilet paper to use. Someday soon......

Ruined

When I was a child, er... back when I was a much younger child my favorite show was Mr. Rogers. Didn't you love it when the camera panned over the little model neighborhood with it's houses and cars and streets. I used to imagine I lived in one of those houses and it was me who drove one of those little cars. Awesome. I loved the whole show, the coming in and changing the shoes (I wonder which pair he got buried in?) ,the sweater, the land of make believe. I wanted to ride the trolley and had a crush on Lady Aberlin. I thought Bob Dog was the stupidest character ever, Mr. Mcfeely probably drank too much coffee and Handyman Negri was aaallllright. The absolute, can't miss segment though was Picture-picture, you know where he'd put a roll of film behind the picture and we watched as he toured some factory and I was let in on the magic of how things were made. That was so cool and probably the root of my lottery fantasy: Take my winnings and travel the world and see how things are made. After I take care of the poor of course.

Have you ever started a conversation and you're telling a story and you get to a point and you realize you forgot where you were going with it? I think it just happened. Well...poo.

Let's try this... Last year was a really difficult year for me from start to finish with a few highlights here and there.........no. That's not where I was going either.

Ok, so it's a week later now and I may have stumbled into a thought. And it may even fit with the first paragraph. I was in church building this morning with everyone and we were singing this song " Whom Have I But You". Short song that goes like this: (1) Though the mountains fall, fall into the sea , (2) Though my colored dawn, may turn to shades of gray , (3) Though the questions asked, may never be resolved . With the chorus Whom have I but You sung between verses. A really nice song. I wished I believed it.

I was watching a couple of specials on TV this past week on Haiti . Hard to believe It's been a year since the earthquake especially if you look at pictures from then and now. Not much has changed. Still so much devastation and absolute poverty, tent cities and lines of people gathered behind a truck for food and water. I think I heard like 80% of the rubble still needs to be removed. Where is all the money and help that was promised? An easy question to ask and get outraged over but as with many things it's more complicated than it looks on paper. It's a sad, sad situation.

As I was watching the Haiti special and humming the Whom Have I song in the recesses of my brain, the though of the start of this blog wandered into my consciousness and it started to gel. My Dad speaks to me in the frantic whir of my mind. It's like He's juggling a 1000 pieces of a puzzle of my thoughts and He lets a few drop and say's "Here, put those together". I don't know, it sorta works. Then again, maybe I'm just a idiot.

So I live in this miniature model neighborhood not unlike Mr. Rogers'. It looks so real. It smells and feels so real. I like the fact it's nice and tidy and nothing bad happens there. It, for the most part is dependable and comfortable and I could live here forever. And I like that. Yep, a warm and fuzzy world. But it's make believe. As I was singing the words to the song "though the mountains fall, fall into the sea" this morning I thought of Haiti where their Mountains DID fall into the sea and killed so many. Their neighborhood (indeed, there neighbors too) were gone. It's like someone walks into Mr. Rogers studio after his death and tosses his model neighborhood in a dumpster. What was so real is revealed as...make believe.

What has made me smile and also made me grieve is the response of some of the Haitian people. They worshiped God. They thanked Him. They leaned on Him. They said "whom have I but you". I'm sure they were devastated, angry and hurting but in the end, whom have I but you. I pray they do find solace in the arms of their loving God.

Me? I'm not so sure I would. I really do like my make believe neighborhood. My American dream. I would hope I would say "whom have I but you" but it makes me sad that I even ponder this question. I love my Dad but of more value, He loves me. He is gracious and kind and has given me time to work this out which I hope I will continue until the day I walk hand in hand with Him into my new neighborhood, my real neighborhood, with streets of gold.