Expect Delays

Have you noticed how often people tell you "the way its gonna be" and then it simply doesn't turn out that way?

The other night I was riding home from the office on the tollway I typically use to get home. I'm way past thinking about how much I pay in tolls each day to ride on that highway because the road surface is so superior to anything else in the area and being one of the least used roadways in northeast Dallas... it is worth every dime to me to enjoy it on a motorcycle! Anyway... the tollway features the kind of electronic roadway information signs that inform drivers of detours or delays. These are the same kind of signs that told Steve Martin's character in "L.A. Story" all about life and love. Anyway...

On the way home the other night I was traveling from much farther west than I normally do and I saw one of these signs that I typically don't see on my daily commute. On this day, the message informed all eastbound traffic to "Expect Delays Ahead."

As a motorcyclist, I appreciate any helpful information that can assist me in keeping the playing field "even" against the big "cages" (cars). Seeing the sign "Expect Delays Ahead," I backed off the throttle a bit and covered the brakes waiting for things to really bind up in traffic delays (accidents, unexpected road work, whatever...). Mile after mile proved not only to show no evidence of delays, but there wasn't even the slightest bit of slowing. Finally... after over half my commute was completed, I finally just "cracked" the throttle and let it fly completely unencumbered by traffic or delays!

So much for "intelligent" road signs!

Which reminds me of how many times I've heard people "tell me the way it's gonna be" with regard to particular situations and circumstances in life and as a result... I've eased off the throttle... covered the brakes... and then waited for the "worst" to come. I can't count how many times the prediction hasn't come true.

This happens all around us in life all the time... work, school, church, friends... have you ever noticed it? "We are never going to get this project in on time." "This test is going to be the worst ever! "This church is really gonna be in trouble now!" "I don't think our friendship can ever be the same again."

We've all heard it before, haven't we?

More often than not we choose to believe it, too. Sometimes we simply give too much credibility to the message because we assume the "source" can't be wrong. (In the Steve Martin movie, it wasn't anyway). Strangely enough, when things don't go as badly as everyone else said it would, we're surprised that things turned out as well as they did!

I wonder if there is another way?

Within reason (I'm not going to start blowing through red lights or anything...), I'm choosing more and more to assume the better and then be surprised if things don't go well. It seems inherently reasonable for Christ-followers to expect things to go well, even when things are rough or life takes an unpredictable turn for the worse. I think of some things Jesus said like, "I am with you always, even to the end of the age" (Matt. 28:20) or "You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it" (John 14:14) Or other scriptures that suggest things like God works for the good of those who love Him and have been called according to His good purpose (Romans 8:28).

So, the next time you see the signs that point to "delays ahead" what are you going to do?

Objectification

I'm off to the gym in a few minutes... trying to get back into an abandoned fitness routine that though once had me in relatively good shape, but now has now left its weighty mark on my mid-section. Funny how age can catch you!

While I'm at the gym, I'm going to have my ear buds in listening to any number of artists in my "workout" playlist. That will take care of the auditory sensors available to me, but the "eyes" will still be available and Rob Bell has me thinking again about how subtle "lust" can be. I dove back into his book, Sex God (yes, the title is provocative) and he has again reminded me how brutally carnal we humans can be.

I'd like to think that with my thickening mid-section and not being the "body" I once was physically, that maybe, just maybe, I'm at least becoming more of the Christ-follower I long to be on the inside. But that is always up for grabs by our own assessments and by another's observation, I suppose. But for the past several years, I've really been working at seeing people with more righteous eyes.

Jesus talked about if a man even "looks at a woman lustfully" he has already committed adultery with her in his heart." Bell suggests that we are all "sexy" people because we long to be "connected" emotionally, spiritually (and physically) to the One who created us and, consequently, to each other. Of course, there are appropriate ways in which we are to be connected to one another, but when people "lust" and/or "act out" according to lust we circumvent the connectedness we are supposed to have for something much less. When we merely condescend to flesh, we are simply treating each other as nothing more than objects.

A girl gets stares at the gym... shoot, a guy may get stares back... but what does that have to do with the "real" person inside? Objectification allows us to merely treat each other as objects rather than beautifully created beings... created in the image of God. And so much is lost in the process -- though our culture thinks it is all good and all gain.

Now... I've got my ear phones... but my eyes will be exposed. So, God, let me see all the people in the gym tonight with Your eyes... as real people... real beings... created in Your image... and may You glory in what You see!

The Big of it All

Most people I know are basically goal oriented folks. We want a "win" and we want to know when we've "won" it. Now I don't know if that is simply the kinds of personalities I gravitate toward or what, but my hunch is that most of us live with some expectation of "life achievements" and realized "goals." It seems so common (at least to me) that we don't even give any alternative viewpoint much thought. Someone who isn't "goal oriented" is often considered "lazy" or "unmotivated."

Watch ESPN for more than 10 minutes and you'll see that "goal orientation" saturates the world of sports. "We can have a great season, but if we don't get to the championship game, does it really matter?" "So & So had a lifetime ERA of...." "If she wins this tournament, her name will be added to the list of greats!" The quotes run ad infinitum.

I've been wondering lately if maybe goal orientation is a little "off-kilter" with God's way of looking at things. Studying the life of Abraham, I've always thought of him as "Father Abraham... from whom God's people come." That is ultimately what God promised him, but in this round of study recently, I've been considering more how he got there. Besides God's calling on his life, of course, what was it that really "drove" him to be the "great" Abraham? Belief comes into play as the New Testament recounts his life. Belief was credited as righteousness. But lately I've been thinking how that fits into the whole picture.

Like all of us, Abraham's life journey with God had it's "ups and downs." There were times Abraham chose wisely and waiting on God's plan and there were other times when he got out ahead of God and ill consequences followed. Which brings me to think of things a bit differently.

What if the really "big" part of life is in how we live the "little" things as opposed to being so set on the "big" things? Could we begin to see our lives as a series of "little" daily events of faithfulness, belief, obedience, trust, honesty, sincerity, etc.? What might be the result? Sometimes I get so fixated on the "big of it all" I miss the daily things that make me truly available (or not) for God's plan. Maybe the "little" things are really the "big" things and the "big" things are... just details?

It would perhaps make for boring television to see how great athletes got to where they are for the "big win" (hours of practice, study, diet, rest, etc.) but in a life journey with God, maybe that is precisely the point!

Your thoughts?

Reflections

Raising kids is an amazing proposition. Generally we willfully step into these shoes, at times by accident and occasionally we walk in them by force. I've heard 80+ year old parents say of their 60+ year old children, "You're never done being a parent." How true that is!

Overall, partnering with my wife to raise our two daughters has been an amazingly joyful experience. People tell us we have great kids. We accept the compliment and whisper a prayer that people will always see our kids this way and that things will keep going well for us and for them. I remember my mother telling me with some frequency, "The way people see you is a reflection of how they see your father and me." That has always stuck with me. I believe it did leave me with a sense of preventative "guilt," but I guess it also somewhat guided my behavioral choices.

Recently, as my own kids navigate life and choices, I find another helpful angle of reflection. When my kids make hurtful choices, I have to deal with those choices as a parent and the reflection I'm concerned about in helping them is the reflection I see of the choices I made at their age staring back at me in their behavior now. Painfully staring right back at me, I might add.

At the time, I knew some of the choices I made as a kid hurt me when I chose them. I knew they hurt my parents when they found out about those choices (and perhaps they would have been hurt even more if they had found out about other choices). I realize some of my choices even caused damage to how people saw me and my parents. But now, looking into my own kid's choices and seeing myself... that is a new level of hurt I've not experienced before. I find it fascinating that there is still pain associated with some of the choices I made growing up... a foggy, abstract mirrored reflection of the choices I made so long ago.

As parents, we protect our kids. Early on it is protection from dangers in the "outside world" and we protect from all the injuries that can be levied against them. As they grow a bit older, we guard ourselves as parents and hopefully protect them from our own neglect and missed parenting opportunities. But keeping them from hurting themselves at any age is down-right difficult, if not impossible.

I remember teaching both my kids how to ride a bike. Walking behind with my hand on the seat... then running along side... then letting go... then running closely behind... then standing and then finally, only watching from a distance (this is why bicycle training is meant for younger parents, I'm convinced!)... it was inevitable they would eventually fall, scrape a knee and come crying for Mommy and Daddy. And they did.

Teenage scrapes, adult child falls... don't necessarily show up on the surface. Sometimes the injuries are really deep and take a while to surface. When they do... reflection may be the best cure for the pain.

I find letting my own self-inflicted pain and the pain it caused others come back to the surface may be a suitable salve for aiding the hurts and pains of my own growing kids as their choices hurt themselves and others. It is reflection of a different kind. Letting the pain come back to the surface helps me see redemption from a new point of view. It allows me to at least see some good come from what was once so painfully bad.

Life gets messy... sometimes we get hurt (and we certainly hurt others) living it. But when the pain of the past potentially offers healing for the present, that may be a reflection worth making.

Your thoughts?

Potential

It's late, I'm tired and I'm also so wired there is no way I'm going to find sleep anytime soon. I get this way at least once per week, especially after teaching or facilitating a group of Christ followers. There is something about the energy both expended and received in those contexts that stirs one's soul making the body hard to sedate and the mind difficult to rest.

Tonight, the "buzz" is more a product of having spent 5 hours with a truly amazing group of people. Male, female, relatively old and relatively young, assorted degrees of education and a bunch of life experience thrown in for good measure... we all engaged in something that is truly fascinating: potential.

As cursed as it is blessed, "potential" is one of the most amazing things I can think of. Back in the late 70's, I sketched a design idea on a cocktail napkin and showed it to a professional friend. His comment as he gazed at my sketch was something along the lines of, "Wow, that has a lot of potential!" Full of the sounds of "potential," I walked out of the restaurant feeling pretty good about my idea. I left the napkin on the table.

I never did anything with the idea. About two years later, I saw my idea roll down a street. A guy named Phil Baechler had developed the "Jogging Stroller" and within a few months of his prototype, the idea of a jogging stroller was everywhere! Potential? Yeah, I guess!

Now, I don't suggest that I was the first to ever venture onto that idea, nor do I pretend to think that someone found that napkin sketch of mine and made something of it. That would be a bit too self-assuming. Instead, my issue is with the whole concept of "potential." How many great ideas, sketches, concepts, paradigms have had great "potential" but never "got off the cocktail table" because of the limitation of the humans involved? Either an individual's lack of will or drive to execute the tasks necessary to reach the realization of potential or a group's inability to build enough community and cooperation within itself to get the job done, has likely been the bane of a bunch of "potential."

We live in an amazing age. This laptop I'm using is a contemporary icon of "potential" fulfilled (and continuing to be fulfilled, I might add). Quite likely, as I write these words there is some "techno-genius" lying awake in bed - or sitting at her desk in these wee hours of the morning swimming in the wispy thoughts of the potential of her idea as she tries to figure out a way to "make it happen."

In Genesis 11, laptop "potential" took the form of a tall tower made of bricks baked to a new level of firmness (instead of stones) with tar (instead of mortar). I'm guessing this new design had significant potential because the Lord chose to confuse the common language of the people doing the building because this was "only the beginning of what they will do. They will be able to do anything they want" (11:6).

Tonight, I met with a group of people whose talents and individual gifts are impressive. Some possess qualities that are truly remarkable. And together, tonight we began looking at the "bricks" and the "microchips" that could be the very building blocks of something with more potential than any of us have ever experienced before. Oh... the potential!

While all that potential was being expressed, we also had to lament some of the lost potential we've all experienced along the way. Many, if not all of us in the room, owned varying levels of lost potential. Some were ideas that never made it off the table top, others were moments of responsibility lost and confessions of neglect. The weight of the moment was palpable, uncomfortable and both corporately and individually indicting...and yet... right there in the middle of it all... there was this thing called "potential"... hovering like the nexus of new things to come.

What will take this group to another level? We all took comfort in something that is eternally true: "God can do anything" (Luke 1:37). Now that, has potential!

What potential are you waiting to experience? How might God fit into that plan? Does it help you to know "God can do anything?"

Adopted

Sitting around a friend's pool one Sunday evening not too long ago, my wife noticed something moving from under our friend's back fence. Seconds later, a little black puppy dog nose reappeared and poked its way further under the fence. Knowing my friend's garage was open and the side door to the backyard also standing wide open, I whistled out to the "little black nose."

Almost instantly, as if she'd done it a thousand times, a little dog came trotting across the pool deck with a rather desperate and dismayed look on her face. She was just a tiny little thing possibly no more than 6 months old. As I sat in my chair reading the Rolling Stone article on The Eagles comeback tour, the little dog made her way over to me first placing her right front paw on my leg. Instinctively, I reached down, picked up the toothpick thin bodied dog and placed her in my lap. I kept reading...

Within seconds she was asleep, but I was beginning to get strong whiffs of this little canine urchin. Clearly she had never been combed, let alone groomed. By the looks of her face, I was guessing a breeding of Bichon Frise with possibly an ounce of Poodle. Her face was sweet, but her hair rivaled the likes of any dreadlocks I'd ever seen! She smelled of things so foul I won't write of them here... but within a couple minutes, she was fast asleep in my lap.

When it was time for grilling some meat, I sat her down on the ground and she and our friend's dog got along quite nicely. After eating a great meal together, my friend's wife asked, "What are you going to do with this dog?" The first thing I thought was to give her a bath. When done with that she smelled all the better, her hair was all the worse! Next she suggested, "Why don't you try grooming her?" And the fun began...

Valium could not have given this dog a better sense of calm. Standing on the picnic table for nearly 3 hours, this little puppy let me cut all her matted hair off her snip by snip until only her face was left to be tended. She didn't look like much (I'd never cut anyone's hair before, let alone a dog's), but she looked a lot better. Then came the pivotal question... "What next?" my friends asked.

My wife is normally a big dog lover... but for some reason this time she was running the other way! But by now, this puppy wasn't moving from my side. As if she'd taken out an ad on Ownerfinder.com, this puppy had found her match! Forget the video interviews, phone messages or a first date... she was ready to move in!

Long story short, we took her home, named her "Chloe" and now you'd think she owns the joint! She's been with us for seven weeks now and it feels like she's always been around. Constantly vying for a dominant position among the other animals (another Bichon and a Manx cat named "Tiger"). She approaches any human being who sits still for more than 2 minutes, she has become a joy (and a minor pain) to the Greenhouse.

We looked for "Lost & Found" signs and none ever appeared. We had her professionally groomed and now, if she ever even had original owners, they'd never recognize her. She's put on about 1.5 pounds (which is a bunch when you only weigh 7 pounds) and is beginning to act less and less like a puppy. No doubt, she has found a home and we've found a new addition to our family

I think there is a blog "lesson" in there somewhere... Sometimes we get abused, neglected or left to ourselves. And the evil one doesn't care much if we run free, get dirty, injured or just plain die. But then Jesus takes us in... pulls off the ticks (so to speak)... cleans us up (spiritually washed in His blood)... grooms us after His nature (much better than I did with a pair of scissors)... and gives us a good home, a good name, and a life filled with love.

Chole has had a few "accidents" around the house since we've taken her in. She's adopted her former pattern of behavior on a few occasions and bolted down the street through a neglected front door. She pesters the longtime canine resident Max (an 8-year-old Bichon) to no end and makes the cat mad more often than not... but she's also fun to watch run across the yard, she tilts her head in that innocent way little puppies do as if they are trying to figure something out for the first time, she's cuddles like no other dog we've ever shared life with, and makes our whole home a more interesting place to live.

I've found myself wondering... isn't this story familiar?

What do you think?

A Natural Disaster

It certainly seems the longer I live, the fewer answers I have and the more questions I'm asking. Some of the events of the past week have generated no exception to this rule. I have questions...

Some 250,000 people lost their lives in the Myanmar (Burma) Typhoon just under a week ago and just a of couple days ago another 15,000 + (the death toll is still rising and could easily reach 30,000) lost their lives in a 7.9 magnitude earthquake in China. That is nearly 300,000 lives wiped off the face of the planet by two "natural" disasters in a matter of only a few minutes. As I continue watching and listening to news reports of the devastation and the difficulty of getting aid into those areas, I wonder about how "natural" it all this devastation really is.

Perhaps it is the "natural" part I take issue with the most. Of course, we understand the terminology to mean events attributed to "acts of nature" that are beyond human control. Sometimes they are referred to as "acts of God." And while God acting in this manner may awkwardly fit into our theologies (or God allowing these things to occur which has always challenged my understanding -- though I try to accept it with faith) it is another angle of the whole "natural" disaster concept that bothers me most.

Why do we as fellow human beings consider these "natural disasters" to be "natural", until they happen to us? Then, it seems, our consideration changes...

I was conversing with one individual about these two disasters recently and they were not even aware of either one of the above mentioned disasters. When I reacted with alarmed surprise, the person simply cast off my alarm with a shrug and the lite comment, "I don't watch the news too much." Realizing this might be a single isolated case, it still gave me pause to wonder about our understanding of "natural disasters." Something about that particular type of response seems all too "natural" to me. It is just strikingly too "natural" for disasters to be "natural" as long as they aren't in my backyard!

How human beings (especially in this day and age of global communication) can miss this kind of global information is disturbing to begin with. Should we not be even more increasingly aware of the greater world community in which we live? Because of the benefit of global communication, shouldn't we be better informed rather than less? Shouldn't our hearts be more strained by the graphic images of another nation's plight when we can view them in High Definition in our own "media rooms?" Something is wrong when we miss this kind of news and it is "un-natural" to not be moved in some way by it.

I believe that if something of similar magnitude occurred in the USA, we would not hear the end of it for months or maybe even years to come. The world news media would be consumed with the story! As a people, we would likely demand the world recognize that what is a "natural disaster" is quite "un-natural" from our point of view! Perhaps we would demand such attention simply because it happened to us (though I would not endorse such a thing)!

A case in point would be the coverage of Hurricane Katrina in 2005. At least 1,836 people lost their lives in Hurricane Katrina and in the subsequent floods, making it the deadliest U.S. hurricane since the 1928 Okeechobee Hurricane. Katrina was estimated to have been responsible for $81.2 billion in damage, making it the costliest natural disaster in U.S. history. To this day, when people speak of Katrina, there is a pall over the conversation. We are still in shock and admittedly scratch our heads over the devastation, but something still feels "un-natural" about it all, doesn't it? That may be because we have trouble dealing with it happening to us. But do we have the same concern for others?

What has struck me the past few days is that the near 300,000 people of Myanmar (Burma) and Sichuan, China who perished in those "natural disasters" are real people with real lives just like the nearly 2,000 people lost in Katrina and some of us don't even know about it! If there is anything that should be "un-natural" about any of these disasters, it should be that! The world is a really big place but we can know about these things!

When I think of what those people must be going through, my heart sickens and my spirit falls.
I believe I once comforted my own mind with the thought of "natural disasters" simply as being "natural." "Well..." I thought to myself, "these things happen. It is a thing of nature." Now... I'm having difficulty taking it so "naturally." Again... I have far more questions than I have answers!

I also used to hide behind the ignorance of these circumstances being in a "land far away." But the global media puts them into our living rooms. How can we "naturally" ignore such a thing?

Though I once reasoned it was an act of "nature" or "God" this time I'm finding less comfort in the thought. I still accept the essence of the disasters as being "natural." But what I am sensing is that my response must become increasingly more "un-natural." For the past days I have found myself feeling quite miserably inept at what I might do to even begin to address the pain the survivors of those two "natural disasters" are experiencing. What can one man do? But I feel something at a deep level that is either "un-natural" for me or perhaps is quite "natural" for all human beings. Again... more questions... what shall I do?

There may be some merit to simply acknowledging another's suffering and praying for their comfort. Yet, I feel there is more that can be done and I'm wondering for a way of expressing it. For now, I continue to pray and allow myself in some microscopic manner to feel "un-natural" about their "natural disaster."

We are one world. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers... each one is special and requires equal concern and care regardless of whether someone else knows about it or not. For now, I simply pray... God bless us, one and all, naturally.

Working At Rest

Recently I’ve concluded that for most of us, rest isn’t easy. While I have fantasies of being reclined in a hammock tied between two palm trees with a gentle ocean breeze blowing across my body after a morning surf session and snacking on some open-fire-baked fresh fish (with a twist of lime squeezed over them) and something cold to drink, that vision is certainly far from my reality. Collapsing on a living room couch after a 12 -15 hour day, slamming a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, falling asleep to ESPN Sportscenter, then awaking to the sense (and smell) of my dog’s breath on my face is much too often closer to my current reality if the truth be told.

It is no secret most North Americans at life speed not too terribly far from “light speed.” Most live “run and gun offense” schedules and get quite defensive when anyone even begins to question or criticize their pace of life. We find a sense of twisted honor in electronic calendars that allow us to book our time into 15 minute (or less) intervals. Scheduling time can be as addictive as the latest popular street drug. There appears to be some certain sadistic satisfaction in "squeezing" someone into our tight schedules.

“Can we get together?” we’re asked. “I don’t know, let me check my schedule,” is the response. It is as if the schedule takes precedent (and is thus more important) than the relationship being sought.

As I think more about it, relationship may be a critical key to rest. The spouse who observes “We never have time for each other,” offers a powerful commentary on the quality of the relationship. As the two drift off to sleep, they know something is missing, but what will they do about it? Truth is, they don't have time for each other because they never make time for each other.

The seventh day of Creation was different from all the others. On the seventh day, the Creator chose to rest from the work of creating. There was an intentional “break in the action” and God rested. Not because He had to (it is difficult to conceive of the Omnipotent needing rest), but because He chose to rest. That day was deemed “blessed” and “holy” (Gen. 2:3) because on that day He rested. There is something “blessed” and “holy” about resting. Making time to take time is likely next to godliness.

The blessings of rest are not merely physical, either. There is something spiritually and emotionally restorative about making time to rest. But I’ve concluded rest isn’t easy. While too often we “rest” (physically) so that we can get back to work, perhaps we need to consider “working so that we can rest.” Maybe that was the whole point of the previous six days of creation? Maybe the Creator was establishing an environment in which He could rest and reside with His creation? The Creator worked Himself into the perfect place to rest! What a great concept!

We work hard at being busy and keeping tight schedules. Observing creation (even after all these years of human use (and abuse) it is clear the Creator worked hard at making everything, but He “worked” it into the opportunity to rest. Rest was significant enough for Him that He called it “blessed” and “holy.” Falling asleep on the couch with the taste of PBJ still in my mouth is likely not the quality of rest I should be seeking.

Well, I’ve got to get back to work, now. But I am resolved to “work harder at resting.” If you can find some time in your schedule, would you like to rest with me? Let's see if we can work it out! I may have some time on Friday...

Shoe Repair Place

At this point in my life I've had the pleasure of living in quite a few different houses, in many different cities and several states. While there are vast differences in all of them, there are logically some similarities, too. I stumbled upon one this week somewhat unanticipated as I'd never really noticed it until now.

It could be said that I'm a "shoe" guy. I don't even really know exactly how many pairs of shoes I own (but I'm certainly no Imelda Marcos -- she owned 1060 pairs of shoes) but if all the specialty pairs were counted (softball, golf, cycling, motorcycling, hiking, running, cross-training, flip-flops, etc.) in addition to the usual dress and casual shoes, the number would total somewhere near 35 (I'm guessing).

One of the reasons I have so many shoes is that I'm easy on shoe wear and I tend to have them repaired rather than simply replace them (one good pair of Italian shoes can potentially last a lifetime (with repair) and if the style is "classic" enough, it is more affordable than frequently buying new shoes). Anyway... it was time this week to replace the heals on one of my favorite Italian pairs.

I noticed a shoe repair place not far from my office and took them in Tuesday. As I entered the shop I had what was close to an "out of body" experience. It seemed as if I was in a dozen places at once. Opening the door, the aroma of leather, rubber, glue and polish struck me with overwhelmingly familiarity. There was dust on every display surface; dozens of pairs dotted the front of the shop featuring tied tags with white string. A wall of wooden cubby holes hid dozens more shoes waiting to be picked up by their rightful owners. 15 or 20 year old, florescent light faded framed advertisements hung on the wall pitching shoe technology of generations gone by. A hand painted sign boasted "Elegant Shoe Repair -- since 1982." A yellowed cardboard sign warned, "Shoes left over 90 days will be sold for charges." A whining "bing-bong" sounded as I broke the electric light beam just inside the front door. For more than a brief moment, I was in the same shoe shop of a dozen times before in at least three different states... every one different... yet, every one the same! It was flat out weird, I'm telling you!

Almost predictably, as I walked to the counter for a few moments no one appeared. It seems that in every shoe repair shop I've ever patronized, no one is in the front of the store. Then, eventually a slightly hunched over shoe cobbler steps from between the split of dirty fabric drapes concealing the mysteries of the sole repair operations in the rear. This shop was clearly no exception!

Emerging from the back, a (literally) dusty old gentleman with an extremely thick accent asked "vat cun ah do fa you?" he inquired without the slightest of eye contact. "New heels, I believe," came my reply. "Nut like b'fore. No! No cut heal! Replace vit all rubba," was what I heard from the man with the gray tinged hair and completely ashen gray mustache. "Ven you vant dem?" was his final question. "How about Thursday?" I asked. "Good. $19.87" his economy of language insisted. And with that I paid the man.

On my way out the door he asked, "How much you pay for that bike?" (My sportbike was sitting just outside the front door). I hesitantly told him, though now uncomfortable at the thought that he might believe he should have charged even more for the new heels! "Too fast... (chuckle, chuckle)," was his commentary. I smiled. "Yeah... some think so," was all I could find to say.

Picking up the shoes today, it was the same "parallel universe" experience. Entering, the man was nowhere to be found. The whining "bing bong" sounded and eventually the old man emerged from behind the curtain again (I'm beginning to think shoe repair is top secret stuff). I would be fairly confident he was wearing the very same clothes as before, but I wouldn't hold him to it.

Handing him my claim ticket, he didn't even speak. Reaching into the third down from the far right cubby hole, he carefully pulled out my shoes. Placing them on the counter, he precisely unwrapped the tissue paper in which they were folded... as if they were brand new... and they looked it. "Good?" he simply inquired. "Perfect," came my response. A simple nod and slight closing of his eyes spoke volumes to me. "Another customer satisfied with his sole repair," surely must have been his thought.

If I've been in one shoe repair shop, I've been in what seems to be a thousand of them before. There is something pleasantly familiar about them all. I've concluded that fixing shoes must be a humble trade. All the shops look the same -- likely because they don't need to look any different. Each cobbler presents themselves with a quiet disposition, few spoken words and a little hunch in the back likely from years of leaning over the soles of thousands of people. Some soles are smelly, some mistreated, some cherished like a great pair of well worn jeans.

I learned from the shoe repair place that in many ways churches need to be somewhat similar. Though located all over the world, wearing different denominational names, established at different dates and though staffed with different titles... there should always be something reassuringly familiar about them. They are places where souls get fixed. Maybe, as "repair people," ministers don't even need to say much. Maybe ministers just need to do their work, not charge more than they should, be sure to wrap things up with care as if they were new (because they are in the mercy of God) and then simply be satisfied with a job well done.

I've got more shoes that need repair... I think I know where I'll be taking them, again. You see, I've been there before, lots of times, in lots of different places.

Robin's Egg Blue

Today as I left the driveway, I captured a glimpse of one of nature's wonders... a Robin's egg. The beauty of a Robin's egg rests in its unique color -- namely, Robin's Egg Blue. (I think even Ralph Lauren has a paint that will match it perfectly, if you are so inclined).

This half-egg shell was lying broken side down, forming a little symmetrical dome just outside the double-car garage door. Had my daughter parked the car in the garage last night, it would have been crushed to pieces during the morning rush. But instead, I was blessed to take in a brief moment of God's glory.

Though initially disappointed it was only half an egg, I quickly realized what this meant... there was some young Robin now on the loose (well, at least hatched) and ready to face the next phase of life. Mrs. Robin is likely still bringing home the Gerber's Baby Worms for Junior and the early days of flight lessons are still to come, but I quickly realized I should rejoice that I'd only found half an egg. I wish the mom and her newborn all the best.

Sometimes life is fragile enough that we might think it nothing more strong than a mere shell. We take our shot, we get cracked and then wonder what life will be like after we try and pick up all the pieces. Though initially disappointed, the hope of faith is that there may be more good ahead -- even when it feels like we're all to pieces.

When we get our shell cracked, it is good to just hang out in the nest for a while and try to get over the initial trauma. The light is bright, we might feel a bit chilly, too. We may be a bit hungry and just wish someone else would take over for a while. But we must always remember we have comfort close by and eventually we're going to venture out and learn to fly (either truly for the first time, or we're going to fly better than we ever did before).

More than a matter of perspective, I believe this is a function of true reality when we have true authentic relationship with the Creator. Creator is mightier than any one of us, any group of us, and any... thing (quite frankly) that can stand between us and rare beauty.

I'm thankful I saw the egg this morning... it is a good reminder that things aren't always as they appear.

Longevity

I just returned home from an area-wide worship experience featuring ministers of various sorts leading worship and reading scripture. The event actually had its roots in the church where I currently serve, but in recent years it has grown into something rather grand in scope and size, meeting in a local events center.

Tonight, as part of the event, brothers in the Lord were honored who have 50 or more years invested in preaching. Some of these men have over 70 years notched into their "preaching belt." That alone is impressive. I'm honored and blessed to know some of these men personally and count them as good friends and mentors. I can only hope to one day stand in their legacy.

Tonight, at a reception honoring these preachers of longevity, a friend and I had the opportunity to ask one of these legends what the secret to preaching so long is. Among the things he told us, one of the first was "Have thick skin." How true that is!

Preaching is no easy gig. I'm not saying it because at one time in my life I did it on a weekly basis and somehow want to revel in the "glory days." I'm saying it because it is true. Any time a mortal and sinful man stands to deliver a message that is eternal and morally perfect, somethings gotta give in the equation and usually it is the "skin" of the preacher.

We also asked one of these blessed brothers what its like to be in a room with so many "veteran" preachers. In all his wisdom and experience, he said, "Only one thing can describe a room full of preachers: A mess!" he said. I'd have to "Amen" that one, too. I loved his candor, his humor and his wise insight. This legendary preacher knew of which he spoke.

To stand in front of people laying your "guts" out there week in and week out takes its toll on body and spirit. I've made more mistakes in my ministry than I care to report here and I pray God's grace on every one of them, but as weekly listeners to preachers, we need to give our brothers who get up every week a little "grace," too.

Unless you've done it, you can't imagine the burden that resides in the position of preaching. Regardless of what "brand" of Christianity it is, preaching is a hard life. I've read the autobiographies of many a "done" preacher... and the "body count" is staggering of those who "used to preach, but don't any more." (In fact, I just recently finished an excellent book by a former female preacher who has left her post... her story is the same. So it is not gender specific, either).

Ministering to people is hard enough in itself. But preaching weekly is by far the hardest thing I've ever attempted to do in my life and the number of really great guys I know who don't do it anymore is a telling commentary on just what it can do to a person. If you have a good preacher in your life, please tell him what he means to your life.

How someone can have a record of 70+ years of preaching, is a testimony to the power and faithfulness of God and to their ability to wear "thick skin." Until you've stood in those brother's shoes, you might want to take a look at yourself, your character and whether you could stand for a single sermon (let alone 70 years worth) before casting a single disparity your preacher's way. I know some people who "think" they could do a better job, but given the chance, I wonder!

How beautiful are the feet of those who bring the good news (Rom. 10:15). My good brothers who are still preaching... sit a while and take a rest in the Lord! Thanks for what you do! May God continue to give you the strength to carry on!

Growing Up, Parents

It would be great if children came with some kind of instruction manual or handy thumb indexed reference guide. But they don’t. It would be great if as parents we could look into the future and get a glimpse of what life holds for us as parents and for our children. But we can’t (and that might be a really good thing). Because if, as parents, we had some accurate sense of how much we would feel for our offspring and how deeply we would care, worry, pray, hope, fear, long for, enjoy and hurt over them… we might never venture into the realm of parenting at all. Investing that much into another human being is necessarily a risky proposition… eventually, somebody’s gonna get hurt!

Raising children simply isn’t easy! Never has there been a venture in my life for which I’ve worked so hard and in the very moment of working so hard at it realized I’m “not doing it right!” Is there ever a “right way” to be a parent? The mere fact that the parent/child interchange involves two independent human beings makes the relational equation so variable, the odds against doing it “right” are enormous.

Maybe part of what makes it so difficult is because the final product of parenting is so delayed. It’s not like making a nice cake and eating it a few hours later. The proof is in the pudding, as the old saying goes. But in parenting, there is little immediate gratification. Oh sure, there is the first recognizable smile from an infant. A toddler’s first unsolicited “Thank you” or “I love you” melting the parent’s heart. There is the first non-parent funded Christmas gift from the part-time employed adolescent or the profoundly simple “I’ll miss you” from a college-bound child. These are relatively immediate returns on the investment of parenting.

Parents knock themselves out for so long but the ultimate “final verdict” on how well they have done remains out for a long, long time. The investment of countless hours, days, weeks, years (truly a 24-7-365-lifetime proposition) may never be fully realized. This alone makes parenting one of the riskiest propositions in the human condition. Do we ever really do it right?

Giving space for your kids to grow up isn’t easy either. Being a parent ultimately means being vulnerable. A good parent allows themselves room to get hurt. Even for those who have really great relationship with their kids (of which I consider myself blessed to be one), there must be accommodation made to get your feelings dinged. It is all part of the process of growing up.

Parents often forget how hard growing up is. This may partially be due to the fact that as parents, we are still growing up. But as a child, especially as a teen, finding your way in the world isn’t easy. Trial and error is the course of the day. Nights are filled with sleepless insecurity, concern and curiosity as we try to discover “who am I, anyway?” Every morning is met with a different view in the bathroom mirror because we are changing so quickly. And as parents, we wonder why our child might not give us the attention we so deeply long for and are sometimes denied. As parents, we need to keep growing as our children do as well.

I wonder if the heavenly Father has a similar issue with us. Does he “get hurt” when we don’t respond in the manner He desires? (Genesis 6 indicates He can be “grieved” by our choices). In a sense, God invests eternity in us and our “return on His investment” is sometimes a long time coming. One thing I’m trying to remember as a parent is that God keeps on loving, keeps on supporting, keeps on giving, keeps on waiting for us to simply love Him as best we can. If anyone is doing parenting right, He is!

Spared

Last night, one of the strongest spring storms I've ever seen in a while rolled through north Texas. I had been watching the radar all night (I'm sort of a meteorologic buff) and I could see the last line of the storms we've had nearly all week was going to be a powerful storm. There had already been tornado activity and wind damage in the west and it was clear this line was picking up steam as it rolled eastward.

The storm line hit our place around 4 am. There were periods of 3" per hour rain and strong winds. Turning the TV on to get up-to-the-minute reports, I heard reports of wind gusts around 75 mph. In Plano, one caller (who is way more meteorological geek than me - the guy has his own weather station at home) reported a wind gust at his house near 90 mph. That is some powerful non-tornado related wind!

As my wife and I lay in bed, she was anticipating a tornado. I wasn't as concerned because there were fewer signs in my opinion (though we were under a "warning" at one point). I did wonder however about all those people who were likely sleeping through the storm (my two kids never even bothered to come down stairs). Nighttime tornadoes have to be some of the most frightening natural disasters out there.

Everyone in our area got through it apparently unscathed. But my thoughts turned to the east, as I rolled over and tried to get some sleep. It always seems Louisiana and Arkansas take the brunt of our meteorologic "leftovers." And, as usual, things got me to thinking...

What should our response be for those circumstances when we personally are released from any burden, pain or suffering, but then the burden falls to someone else? What about the car in the intersection that gets hit immediately behind you? (That's actually happened to me a couple of times). Or the storm that passes over your house without damage but then blasts the people in the next town and does devastating damage? Or the investment you choose not to make at the last minute and those that do invest wind up losing everything? What should our response be?

Clearly being thankful is one appropriate response. There is nothing wrong with being thankful something tragic doesn't happen to you. But is there another, perhaps even more mature response available to us?

In a culture too often dominated by entitlement, we may not think much of it. "Boy, I'm sure glad that didn't happen to me," will be our response and we never take it a step further. We might even pray a prayer of thanksgiving that it wasn't us! Which is fine, overall. But, again, I'm just thinking out loud here...

Of course, compassion informs us of what to do in the event tragedy does strike the car immediately behind us or to offer aid to the person who loses everything in a bad investment, or whatever. But what should our response be otherwise? What should our response be before tragedy strikes the "other" guy?

Last night I whispered a prayer of "thanks" that the storm passed us without incident (other than a huge "lake" outside our back fence), but I was also praying that those eastward of us were also given the same grace we were. It was the only thing that seem reasonable to do in light of the blessing we had just received. Somehow, it didn't seem right to merely take our blessing and not do something to try and be helpful to the next guy down the storm front.

I guess what we're considering is proactive compassion. What are your thoughts?

Today

As a result of what I would consider a "faulty" weather forecast, my day has been altered in manners now manifesting themselves in down-right resentment on my part. What are typically my most reliable sources for weather forecasting have totally let me down today and I'm flat-out hacked and bummed about it.

Early this morning the forecast called for 70% rain. 70%! In north Texas that's a pretty good shot at rain. In Phoenix, where I once lived, 70% are betting odds... you could take 70% to the bank!

Today, in the time between leaving the house and walking into my office (following morning coffee and a power bagel) that likelihood had dropped from 70% to 40%. After being in the office for about an hour, I saw approximately half a dozen drops fall outside my office window on a spot covering about 70% the size of a piece of notebook paper! Now, as I sit here at the laptop at the end of the work day, the sun is shining, a cool breeze is blowing and I think I just saw two love birds sunbathing in bikinis and sharing a bird bath in a puddle left over from last night's sprinkler run! (Okay...maybe I've been inside too long and had one too many cups of coffee!)

Rain? What rain?!?

Here is why I'm hacked! Because of that "fake" forecast, this is how my day was regretfully altered... Let me enumerate...

1) I neglected my daughter's exuberant joy and independent freedom by driving the car she usually takes to school, thus significantly altering her day and unilaterally cramping her style.

2) Driving a car meant I wasn't riding one of my beloved motorcycles (for avid motorcyclists... a day when you could ride and then you don't ride is like asking a duck to walk everywhere he needs to go. Sure, he can go that way, but swimming, trolling or flying are way better alternatives -- because you're built to do them)!

3) Because I drove the car, and consequently thought I would have to pick my daughter up from school when she was done, I turned down a ticket to the Rangers' Home Opener (baseball, for the lesser informed) with a good friend because I "would not be able to get back to school in time to pick up my daughter."(In my opinion, there is nothing much better in all of sports than "opening day" -- even for a mediocre team-- being at the ballpark live on opening day is the best! There is just something "spiritual" about the whole experience.

4) Finally, as it turned out, my daughter stayed after school with some fellow drama students and their director completely alleviating my need to provide transportation. So as it turns out, I could have gone to the game after all -- where it didn't rain there, either! (Is the whining apparent at this point?)

5) I still didn't get to ride my motorcycle (have I already mentioned this?)!

The only positive thing I can see from today's whole meteorological fiasco is that I actually was able to accomplish a lot of productive work today -- which I would not have done sitting in The Ballpark at Arlington -- but, boy, would a hot dog or two and a good ballgame with a friend have been great? Need I even answer?

At our church, we are currently looking at the Genesis account of the seven days of creation. In our study of this biblical text, one of the theological truths that has struck me is how Sovereign the Creator is over all that has been made. He is the One who separates light from darkness. He is the One who establishes the boundaries of the sea and the land. He is the One who creates all vegetation and all creatures simply by speaking a word... and it was so!

Yes, I will fully admit my complaint is petty and generally irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. But is is funny how the truth in "little" matters can bring clarity in the "big" ones, as well. I think of how often I kick against God's creative power when things don't go the way I think they should. Whether "big" or "small," God still has His hand on things and He is the great "Re-organizer" of life either when things don't go the way we think they should or when, frankly, we mess up. It is a good thing God is always Sovereign.

For the rest of the day, I'm going to merely try and enjoy the beauty just outside my office window and when I leave this moment, I'm going to step out into the remainder of the day believing it is "good" and that everything is just the way it ought to be. "And there was evening, and there was morning...", today!

One Shining Moment

There was a time in my life when I once followed men’s college basketball fairly closely. It may have stemmed from the fact that my Alma Mater once made it to the Elite Eight shortly before my arrival at the school and there still were residual “Cal State, who?” t-shirts being worn on campus my first day there. I later had a class with one of the players from that team and the aura of legend was memorable just having him in the room.

These days, life does not permit me the time I once invested in following any sport, let alone college hoops. However, I still try to keep a casual eye alert to catch an occasional game here and there. Last night was one of those games I would have made room in my schedule to watch (though my viewing was preempted by playing in a softball game – I figure I need to keep playing sports while I can before all I have left to do is watch them). Last night was definitely a game worth watching.

Kansas and Memphis played for the NCAA National Championship in San Antonio, TX. 42,000 spectators crowded the arena to watch two very well matched teams go at it. Nearly 40 hard-fought games through the entire season brought these two teams to this “one shining moment” (a theme song by the same title brought tears to my eyes in years past at the close of the championship game’s broadcast – now, I don’t even know if they play the song anymore -- that's how disconnected I am to college ball).

Last night’s game was a thriller -- what little I heard on the radio and then caught on TV in the last few minutes. Memphis had it all but won with about four minutes to play, but nerves got the best of them. They repeatedly choked consecutive free-throw attempts and allowed Kansas back into the game. A last second three-pointer from Kansas sent the game into overtime. From that point on, the momentum shift was so severe, Memphis would not recover. For Kansas, their “one shining moment” was etched into the history books. For Memphis, it became a moment of loss they will painfully remember for a very long time.

Bill Self, the Kansas coach, is reported as telling his players in his final speech before the game, “You will remember this night for the remainder of your life – now go play like it.” Those young men certainly took him at his word. Self has been regarded as a "good coach." But after last night's victory, he may have opened the door to be considered a "great coach."

My thought this morning is what if we all lived our lives like we would remember each day for the remainder of our life? What if we entered each day with a mind toward making it a "day to remember?" Would it temper the choices we make (who wants to remember a mistake for the remainder of one’s life)? Would it cause us to work just a little bit harder? Would it inspire us to go an “extra mile” in kindness toward another? Would we be just a bit more patient with the next person we hope to influence for good? The possibilities are endless… aren't they?

For a while, I’m going to adopt Coach Self's philosophy and head into each day's “game” with the mind that I will remember it for the rest of my life. At the end of the day, hopefully God will get some glory for a “win” and in my own mind (and perhaps the mind of another) it will be “one shining moment.”

Wordless

The church where I serve began a new series of sermons and Bible studies this morning in a series we are simply calling "Made." Taking a look at each of the creation days as they appear in the Genesis account, we're pursuing more the heart of God than a "scientific explanation" for how the world came into being.

This morning, during our time of worship together, we all watched a compilation video our Minister of Videography (yes, we really do have one of those -- and he has amazing gifts in the multi-media arena) created as a video feature following the morning's sermon. It was amazing!

Though set to a lyrical song, the visuals were simply stunning pictures of God's creation shot from all over the globe. What an amazing sight!!! The video images could have stood on their own, without any soundtrack (though the song was a great accompaniment). Vivid images from seemingly every point on the earth. It was refreshing to see the beauty of creation without having to dodge skyscrapers or airplanes or cellular phone towers. The scenes were absolutely breathtaking!!!

At the end of the video, I had an opportunity to speak to the church... and it really didn't feel appropriate to speak (though I did). I merely wanted to point to the screens and gesture something like "yeah... what that video just said is what I want to say, too."

I believe far too often, we use too many words to do things that can better be done without. Too many words to teach, too many words to preach, too many words to share, to counsel, to assist... whatever. So much of the time, words are like skyscrapers, airplanes and cellular phone towers. Words merely clog up the landscape and the airways and cause us all to miss the "forest for the trees" (so to speak).

Now, I'm not suggesting words are always inappropriate, but it does seem to me we live in a rather wordy generation. There are times it feels like I've overrun my allotment of words and it is barely half-way through the week!This past Saturday I spent the day much more quiet than usual. Several friends expressed concern and asked, "if I was okay?" You know, I was just tired of hearing myself talk. If I'm that tired of hearing me, I wonder how tired everyone else might be! (Just ask my kids, I'm confident they will have an opinion on this topic)!

The Bible affirms that "since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities -- his eternal power and divine nature -- have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made..." (Romans 1:20). That seems clear enough, doesn't it? I wonder if we might take a cue from nature. Creation doesn't have to use words to communicate God's power. Its presence is enough!

I'm resolving to look more at the creation and try to listen more to the "evidence" of God. If a video can speak so powerfully without words, imagine what a real tree might have to say! I'm also making a concerted effort at lowering my weekly "word count." While friends might think I'm sick, I might actually be moving toward a healthier existence!

Will you join me in listening? Sometimes the "wordless" speak volumes!

It's sad when your team loses

It was a close game from beginning to end. The hot Celtics as guests in the house of the Mavericks, are on quite a winning streak. The Mavs needed the game more than the Beantown boys did. The Celtics are currently the hottest team in the NBA. Despite which team you wanted to win, everyone got their money's worth this past Thursday night. It was a good game seasoned with less than stellar officiating.

Though I'm not especially a Mav's fan (however, I'll root for them quicker than I once did), it was sad to watch my "team" lose. You see, my team lost somewhere in the middle of the third quarter.

She was dressed in less than a woman her age ought to be (in my opinion), but as a result had the attention of most males on our side of the arena as she made her way up the long steps from the high-dollar seats closest to the floor. She had a walk about her that definitely drew attention, but she is not what caught my eye this time. What caught my eye was her "guy" walking about 5 steps behind her. He had a look I will not forget for some time... It was the look on his face, watching all the other guys who chose to watch her, that captured my attention.

There wasn't a hint of discomfort or irritation on his part that many guys eyes left the game and watched her parade all the way up the steps. In fact, by the sly smile appearing on his face, he was clearly quite satisfied and pleased that so many other men were looking at her. Where an upright guy likely would have fought to defend the dignity of his lady by sending back stares of indignation, this guy swam in a sea of complete self-absorption. His own greed crested on top of waves and jeers from of his male counterparts all the way from section 105 to 109.

The moment crashed over me with force. I didn't need any cold water to shock me back into sane awareness. The moment was clear enough in itself. At times we human beings, but especially us guys, can be so self-centered and self-absorbed, we'll sell out the dignity of another person to feed the beast within us. The sale price goes even higher at the expense of our gentler female counterparts by way of sexual exploitation and general disregard for their intrinsic beauty and God-instilled goodness.

We men need to take a hard look at ourselves, especially when it comes to how we treat women.

At the risk of sounding even the slightest bit self-righteous, I confess I've been as guilty as the guy at the game (though maybe not in exactly the same way). But in the past couple years, I've really been giving prayerful attention to how feeding my own ego costs other people in the process. I hope I'm making progress, but for now I'll simply accept an increasing awareness of the transaction in my own life. It is not an easy thing to turn around, but when it so obviously happens right in front of you as it did at the Mavericks game the other night, it isn't that hard to miss.

As it was, the Mavericks lost to the Celtics 94-90. But that wasn't the big loss of the night. The bigger loss was one suffered by the human race. It was the loss of dignity the "all male team" suffered as one of us walked up the stairs in that arena somewhere in the middle of the third quarter. It's always sad when your team loses.

Beautiful People

Early this morning, I reaffirmed something I have believed for a long time. People are beautiful.

Period. All of them… every single last one of them. Tall ones, short ones, fat, skinny, long haired, short haired, bald, young, old, intelligent, naïve, innocent, guilty, mean and nice… they are all beautiful. Even when people don’t act very beautiful, even when they are one’s very own enemy, they are still quite inherently beautiful. It is possible to so suppress inherent beauty that it may take divine eyes to see it clearly, but I do believe (perhaps without exception) there is some beauty in everyone.

Sitting alone in one of my favorite breakfast spots this morning, I find myself in a room full of people I’ve likely never seen before. They are definitely people I’ve never met before. And as I am wrapping up my morning time in the holy beauty of God’s word in print, I find myself overwhelmed by the beauty all around me. Today, I’m just concentrating on the beauty of humanity. To include flora, fauna and general atmospheric beauty would be almost too much to comprehend in one day.

Sure one guy is louder than all others in the restaurant and he has an annoying tendency to chew his half order of French toast with his mouth opened. I can nearly hear him smacking each bite from where I sit! One young woman clearly struggles with “problem skin” and seems self-conscious about it as she sits with another who, in spite of being quite physically attractive, may have dressed in the dark. (Now, I’m no fashion icon but even I can tell that outfit doesn’t work – but to her credit it is still dark outside so when we all leave, she might have second thoughts on why she chose that blouse). Another guy looks entirely miserable as he sits alone reading his paper. He is dressed almost identically to me and the way we are both positioned in the room, we make an interesting pair of “identical bookends” all the way down to our similarly shaped frameless reading glasses. (His hair is more gray than mine, but I'm catching up).

Tables of trios, duos and monos all sitting together… disconnected and yet, somehow strangely, completely and utterly linked together in beauty. It must be that whole “image of God” thing again (Gen. 1:27) showing me that there is much more that connects mankind than that which separates.

As people, we tend to concentrate more on what is distinctive about us rather than what is common and I wonder what the net effect of that is. We divide, subdivide and segregate on the subjective basis of our own choosing rather than uniting, reuniting and unifying on the basis of something beyond us -- something that is Perfectly Beautiful.

Even the worst of us must have something beautiful about us. God certainly must think so. Why else, while we were still His enemies, He would make us His friends (Rom. 5:10)? Unless, of course, we only become "beautiful" once we are made His friends.

Rather than sitting in a room full of strangers, perhaps I should rather look at it as sitting in a room full of potential acquaintances... or maybe even future friends? I love all my friends. I think they are all beautiful people, each in their own very special way. Maybe this is where I should begin with all people… find the beauty first (even if they are enemies, or their beauty is more difficult to immediately pinpoint) so that one day, perhaps, we will all be beautiful friends!

So, here's my prayer for the day: "God, show me the beautiful way you see all people and teach me to love them like you do -- beautifully."

How do you see the beauty people?

Computer Problems

Are we simply too reliant on these machines? My "life" is in current turmoil because everywhere I go, I seem to be running into computer issues. In my work office every one on site is dealing with "connectivity issues." At home, my computer just "told" me that the browser I've been using for nearly two years, "wasn't my default browser!" "How could this be," I wondered. When I "reassured" my computer that it was my default browser, it proceeded to ELIMINATE two years worth of bookmarks! (I'm sure someone much more "techno" that me is reading this saying, "If you'd only done etc. etc. etc. then you could get all your bookmarks back." Well... I'm not that techno savvy and frankly, I'm just too mad!

I love my computer and all the stuff it can do, but I think I become much too reliant. Somewhere between pencil and paper and "all electronic" there is balance. I'm looking for it.

Haven't posted in over a month, but having to reestablish as many bookmarks as possible has brought me back again. Sorry this was a rant, but I do feel a little more at peace! Now... some quiet meditation, prayer and a good night's sleep... there's (thankfully) something I don't need a computer to assist in. Thank goodness!

Bold Squirrel

In yesterday's driving rainstorm, while waiting for a traffic light a bold acrobatic squirrel bounds off a branch just on the edge of my field of vision. Free falling for several feet, he lands on what looks to be a 1,000,000 jigga-volt (whatever that is) electrical line running across the intersection above me. First somewhat cautious and then with increasing speed and grace, the little nut packer goes skating along the line some 20 feet above the traffic below. I am transfixed.

Praying for the light NOT to turn green (a change of pace for me, I'll confess) I'm hoping for a few more seconds to watch the rodent road show. Before my light can turn, bold squirrel is across the entire intersection and bounding down the street. It's rush hour and the squirrel is making better time than I am! I sit wishing I was as confident and cool.

Nervously, I wait for him to make one error and fall to a perilous doom or wind up fried fur with a side of smoke. Thankfully neither is the case as the light turns green. Rounding the corner, I watch bold squirrel leap off the line and disappear into the more natural habitat of another big tree.

Things I learned in 1 minute with a bold squirrel:

1) I need to be as confident in my God-given abilities as he is.
2) Adaptability is where its at, baby... sometimes you sit in trees, sometimes you run on the high wire.
3) Every once in a while you've got to get above the stuff to get a new perspective.
4) There's often more than one way to cross a street.
5) If I go bold, someone else may benefit from my boldness as well.
6) Sometimes you've just gotta get out and do your thing even if it is in the rain.
7) You never know, there just might be somebody watching when you least expect it.

My sincerest thanks to the bold squirrel and for taking me "to school." Lesson learned, I hope!