Thursday, August 24, 2006
Rest In Peace, Big Guy
Last February, I took my daughter to see the legendary Maynard Ferguson at the local high school. Today, I learned that the legend himself passed away at the ripe, old age of 78. All I can say is I'm glad I saw him when I did. What an inspiration he was!
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Maybe It Was Just Me...
Last night, my family and sat down to watch the premier of the acclaimed HBO special "When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in 4 Acts." (Part 1 aired last night. Part 2 is on tap tonight.) I've always liked documentaries. They fascinate me. To me, it's neat to see a chronological account of a particular event. No matter how much one knows about what happened, there's always something new in there somewhere. I guess as a result, my family likes them, too.
In this case, I'm not sure what I expected to see last night, whether I would learn something or what. I was up later than I really wanted to be watching this piece. When it was over, I could only wonder if it was worth it. After thinking about it for most of the day, I thought I could do a little better with it if I wrote about it. So, here I am.
Now, in defense of the film - or whatever it is - there was some really interesting footage that must have been gathered from everywhere. And, as expected, director Spike Lee did a masterful job piecing the entire event together from the piles of footage. As a result, it seemed like the events from that fateful week were being relived right before our eyes. For the first hour, no one in our living room moved. We all felt the weight of the tragedy and couldn't believe that it had only happened within the last year.
As the film progressed, the mood began to shift from sadness and despair to frustration and rage as, one by one, each victim applied blame for the tradgedy to the official of choice. After an hour of one complaint after another, I was ready for the first half to end. It was getting harder and harder to feel sorry for people recounting their experiences. Regardless of what I felt or what anyone's opinion is on this tragedy, I think this is truly a situation that none of us, who watched from afar, will ever understand.
For instance, I've been to New Orleans a handful of times. None of my experiences there were that memorable. I just thought it was old and dirty. I do like Cajun Food, but I don't think I just have to eat it in the Big Easy. That's just me. I wasn't raised there. I'm sure it would be different if I were. But, I guarantee you this, whether I was raised there or not, whether I was told one day or one week before a storm the size of Katrina was on its way to my town, if I had to walk, crawl or beg, I'd get out of there. Who cares if the storm didn't turn out as expected! Me and mine would all be okay. End of story.
Of course, that isn't what happened. Hundreds died and thousands were displaced. I understand there were poor and impoverished people who were at the mercy of the government. But, really, who's fault is that? Would anyone really put their lives in the hands of any federal, state or local entity? In essence, when those people ignored the warnings of their city government to evacuate, they took their lives in their own hands, all the while thinking the government would be there for them when it all was over.
If anything, the most pathetic part of this tradgedy is the fact that it didn't have to happen. Of course it did. Tons and tons of TV footage tell us so.
In this case, I'm not sure what I expected to see last night, whether I would learn something or what. I was up later than I really wanted to be watching this piece. When it was over, I could only wonder if it was worth it. After thinking about it for most of the day, I thought I could do a little better with it if I wrote about it. So, here I am.
Now, in defense of the film - or whatever it is - there was some really interesting footage that must have been gathered from everywhere. And, as expected, director Spike Lee did a masterful job piecing the entire event together from the piles of footage. As a result, it seemed like the events from that fateful week were being relived right before our eyes. For the first hour, no one in our living room moved. We all felt the weight of the tragedy and couldn't believe that it had only happened within the last year.
As the film progressed, the mood began to shift from sadness and despair to frustration and rage as, one by one, each victim applied blame for the tradgedy to the official of choice. After an hour of one complaint after another, I was ready for the first half to end. It was getting harder and harder to feel sorry for people recounting their experiences. Regardless of what I felt or what anyone's opinion is on this tragedy, I think this is truly a situation that none of us, who watched from afar, will ever understand.
For instance, I've been to New Orleans a handful of times. None of my experiences there were that memorable. I just thought it was old and dirty. I do like Cajun Food, but I don't think I just have to eat it in the Big Easy. That's just me. I wasn't raised there. I'm sure it would be different if I were. But, I guarantee you this, whether I was raised there or not, whether I was told one day or one week before a storm the size of Katrina was on its way to my town, if I had to walk, crawl or beg, I'd get out of there. Who cares if the storm didn't turn out as expected! Me and mine would all be okay. End of story.
Of course, that isn't what happened. Hundreds died and thousands were displaced. I understand there were poor and impoverished people who were at the mercy of the government. But, really, who's fault is that? Would anyone really put their lives in the hands of any federal, state or local entity? In essence, when those people ignored the warnings of their city government to evacuate, they took their lives in their own hands, all the while thinking the government would be there for them when it all was over.
If anything, the most pathetic part of this tradgedy is the fact that it didn't have to happen. Of course it did. Tons and tons of TV footage tell us so.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
My, How Time Flies!
I've had way too much time on my hands at work lately (I hope my boss doesn't see that!) and I went back to look at some of the previous 80-some-odd posts over the last year. I started this blog in August 2005. Since that time a lot has transpired, as could be expected with any given year. Specifically, last August was when Hurricane Katrina decimated New Orleans. It was also when my wife and I finally enrolled our children in our local school district.
Everybody was scared last August - especially myself. Nobody knew what to expect. After just a few days it was clear that everybody was going to be fine. Now, we're gearing up to do it all again. The kids are all a year older now, moderately bigger, taller, etc., going to the next grade up. They're all so excited - as are their parents!
Everybody was scared last August - especially myself. Nobody knew what to expect. After just a few days it was clear that everybody was going to be fine. Now, we're gearing up to do it all again. The kids are all a year older now, moderately bigger, taller, etc., going to the next grade up. They're all so excited - as are their parents!
Monday, August 14, 2006
Do You Really Want To Be A Millionaire?
Who hasn't thought about what it would be like to win the lottery? I know I have. I've thought about it a lot actually. That doesn't mean that I've gone to the extent of buying a lottery ticket. No surprise that I've not won. I don't see the point on one hand. Then again, I wonder why I shouldn't allocate a portion of my paycheck to play regularly. Afterall, at the heart of the Texas Lottery Commission is the promise that it supports Texas education. Yeah, now there's a good cause!
There are too many stories of people who literally strike it rich only to blow it all without bettering their lives one bit with the big payday. That brings me to an article I read today in the Houston Chronicle. A Jourdanton, Texas man won the lottery almost 6 years ago only to regret that he ever won the prize. The old addage "money can't buy happiness" falls painfully short. According to the article, this man isn't alone in his troubles. How ironic! In a culture that idolizes wealth, society says a rich person should be happier than everyone else. Yet in talking to just a few of those who became instantly rich, they're more miserable than they were - before their windfall! Simply amazing.
It reminds me of the old proverb:
An inheritance quickly gained at the beginning will not be blessed at the end. Proverbs 20:21
I don't have anything against rich people or people getting rich. I think I'd like to try my hand at it one of these days. However, that fortune may cost a lot more than the price of a lottery ticket at the local convenience store.
There are too many stories of people who literally strike it rich only to blow it all without bettering their lives one bit with the big payday. That brings me to an article I read today in the Houston Chronicle. A Jourdanton, Texas man won the lottery almost 6 years ago only to regret that he ever won the prize. The old addage "money can't buy happiness" falls painfully short. According to the article, this man isn't alone in his troubles. How ironic! In a culture that idolizes wealth, society says a rich person should be happier than everyone else. Yet in talking to just a few of those who became instantly rich, they're more miserable than they were - before their windfall! Simply amazing.
It reminds me of the old proverb:
An inheritance quickly gained at the beginning will not be blessed at the end. Proverbs 20:21
I don't have anything against rich people or people getting rich. I think I'd like to try my hand at it one of these days. However, that fortune may cost a lot more than the price of a lottery ticket at the local convenience store.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Winds Of Change
There's not a good way to explain it. Everything feels different, better than before. Hope is in the air - literally. I can't get into specifics right now, but things are looking up.
Now, what can I be talking about?
The lyrics from one of my all-time favorite songs can fill in the blanks for now:
The Winds of Change
Danny Tate/Danny Wilde
Performed by Russ Taff
Well, I've seen my chances come and go
And come back round again
But everytime they took me by surprise
There was a day I used to want
the things I did not have
But it's never better on the other side.
Well, I've never gone so far that I've
forgotten my way home
The best things always bring you back again
over and over
(chorus)
The Hands of Time
Go Round and Round
They don't slow down when you lose your way
At every turn
The things you learn
You wear them proud like you wear your name
And as you go
On Down that road
Don't let the dust get in your eyes
It blows in the winds of change.
Hunger is no stranger
I've sat with him before
And everything I've done has not been good
As I've tried to make my stand
I've had to learn to fall
And maybe I've seen more than I should
But I've never gone so far that I've
Forgotten my way home
The best things always bring you back again
over and over
And I held on to my life
And I kept my dream alive
And the dream ain't over
Over and over
I hope to chronicle what takes place from here on this blog in the days and months to come.
God is good!
Now, what can I be talking about?
The lyrics from one of my all-time favorite songs can fill in the blanks for now:
The Winds of Change
Danny Tate/Danny Wilde
Performed by Russ Taff
Well, I've seen my chances come and go
And come back round again
But everytime they took me by surprise
There was a day I used to want
the things I did not have
But it's never better on the other side.
Well, I've never gone so far that I've
forgotten my way home
The best things always bring you back again
over and over
(chorus)
The Hands of Time
Go Round and Round
They don't slow down when you lose your way
At every turn
The things you learn
You wear them proud like you wear your name
And as you go
On Down that road
Don't let the dust get in your eyes
It blows in the winds of change.
Hunger is no stranger
I've sat with him before
And everything I've done has not been good
As I've tried to make my stand
I've had to learn to fall
And maybe I've seen more than I should
But I've never gone so far that I've
Forgotten my way home
The best things always bring you back again
over and over
And I held on to my life
And I kept my dream alive
And the dream ain't over
Over and over
I hope to chronicle what takes place from here on this blog in the days and months to come.
God is good!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Observations On The Latest Middle East Crisis
I'm not much for politics these days. Call me burned out, a drop-out or whatever. I've been so frustrated with both sides within our political system for longer than I care to add up. Too many broken promises, hidden agendas, conflicts of interest, yadda-yadda. I'm jaded. Politics and politicians won't save any of us from any of the hundreds of thousands of threats that we face as a nation each and every day. With the latest trouble in the middle east, it's hard to believe that anything a talking head has to say will have any bearing on what is currently happening. The same rhetoric is just that - empty, meaningless talk.
Yesterday, during my drive home, I tuned into the Savage Nation, a radio show hosted by Michael Savage. (This radio show has been labeled ultra-conservative by various pundits mainly because Savage regularly spouts a lot of radically conservative ideas. I personally tune in to hear the man rant and rave. There's nothing like hearing a New York yankee lose his cool.) Instead of the normal talk about the Bush Administration or a guest from Washington, Savage was interviewing Pastor John Hagee, from San Antonio, Texas during the first hour of the show. Hagee, a TV preacher and a regular teacher of "End-Time" events, was talking about various prophecies from the Old Testament and their relevance to the current fighting in the Middle East. Savage, along with much of his radio audience, was stunned. "There are such striking similarities to what's going on today." No kidding. "You won't hear this interpretation on the nightly news, my friends." Yeah, you got that right. You know things are getting serious when people resort to consulting the Bible to interpret events of the day.
I grew up in a church tradition where preachers talked a lot about the 2nd Coming of Christ and sought to interpret current events to show everyone just how close His return is. There's not a lot of interpretation needed these days. Sure, there are more than enough cooks and goofballs around that could serve to turn anyone off. But, despite all the craziness and weirdos, I think the entire world is about to see the climax of time unfold before our eyes.
So what does all this mean? Well, I think if you believe what the Bible says, then you should get ready and start looking up. If not, the events of the world might yet make a believer out of you.
Yesterday, during my drive home, I tuned into the Savage Nation, a radio show hosted by Michael Savage. (This radio show has been labeled ultra-conservative by various pundits mainly because Savage regularly spouts a lot of radically conservative ideas. I personally tune in to hear the man rant and rave. There's nothing like hearing a New York yankee lose his cool.) Instead of the normal talk about the Bush Administration or a guest from Washington, Savage was interviewing Pastor John Hagee, from San Antonio, Texas during the first hour of the show. Hagee, a TV preacher and a regular teacher of "End-Time" events, was talking about various prophecies from the Old Testament and their relevance to the current fighting in the Middle East. Savage, along with much of his radio audience, was stunned. "There are such striking similarities to what's going on today." No kidding. "You won't hear this interpretation on the nightly news, my friends." Yeah, you got that right. You know things are getting serious when people resort to consulting the Bible to interpret events of the day.
I grew up in a church tradition where preachers talked a lot about the 2nd Coming of Christ and sought to interpret current events to show everyone just how close His return is. There's not a lot of interpretation needed these days. Sure, there are more than enough cooks and goofballs around that could serve to turn anyone off. But, despite all the craziness and weirdos, I think the entire world is about to see the climax of time unfold before our eyes.
So what does all this mean? Well, I think if you believe what the Bible says, then you should get ready and start looking up. If not, the events of the world might yet make a believer out of you.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
So, I Cut My Hair...
After almost a year of trying to grow it out, I again cut my hair. Yeah, I know. Everybody else in the world was telling me to continue growing it. The one person who wanted me to cut it mattered the most: my wife. Yep. Nobody said anything about it at work. My mom even was leaving me alone about it. But, Danelle hated it - with a passion. Stupid me. I thought I could convince her that it was cool. Nope. She wouldn't buy it.
So, a couple of weeks ago while she was getting her hair cut, she made an appointment for me, too. The girl used a "magic comb," which was a comb with a hair razor in it. Probably the coolest thing I've ever seen. It made mince meat of my mane within a matter of minutes, leaving clumps of hair 6 to 10 inches long on the floor. What a waste!
The truth is I really like being married. I guess it means I'll be keeping my hair short for the rest of my life. I guess there are worse things, though I'm not able to think of any right now.
I still like being married, though. I really, REALLY do. Which is exactly why I cut my hair in the first place.
So, a couple of weeks ago while she was getting her hair cut, she made an appointment for me, too. The girl used a "magic comb," which was a comb with a hair razor in it. Probably the coolest thing I've ever seen. It made mince meat of my mane within a matter of minutes, leaving clumps of hair 6 to 10 inches long on the floor. What a waste!
The truth is I really like being married. I guess it means I'll be keeping my hair short for the rest of my life. I guess there are worse things, though I'm not able to think of any right now.
I still like being married, though. I really, REALLY do. Which is exactly why I cut my hair in the first place.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Completely Amazing
This video is completely amazing. According to the story, the DPS trooper was shot 23 times and survived. Click here to see the report.
Remember What I Said About Christian Community?
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about a friend's decision to walk away from our little, cloistered faith community and pursue a possibly destructive relationship. There's been an update to the story. A few nights ago, she came back.
Unfortunately for her, when she left, she did a lot of things that were hurtful to the very people who had been so supportive over the last year. But, instead of being scorned or chastised, she received the same love that she had been accustomed to before she left.
I have no idea what went on in her head while she was gone or on the night she returned. I'm sure she had already thought about what she might need to say or do to make things right with everyone - much like the prodigal son in Jesus' New Testament parable. I guess the best part is that she didn't have to or wasn't expected to. That's not to say it was easy to receive her back again. I'm sure it wasn't. Still it was the right thing to do.
As difficult as it is to forgive, it is what Christians are called to do - right out of the box. It's the willingness to forgive that sets Christian Community apart in this world. It's what people crave - to be forgiven when they mess things up. It's the kind of thing that might bring a prodigal back home - to stay.
Unfortunately for her, when she left, she did a lot of things that were hurtful to the very people who had been so supportive over the last year. But, instead of being scorned or chastised, she received the same love that she had been accustomed to before she left.
I have no idea what went on in her head while she was gone or on the night she returned. I'm sure she had already thought about what she might need to say or do to make things right with everyone - much like the prodigal son in Jesus' New Testament parable. I guess the best part is that she didn't have to or wasn't expected to. That's not to say it was easy to receive her back again. I'm sure it wasn't. Still it was the right thing to do.
As difficult as it is to forgive, it is what Christians are called to do - right out of the box. It's the willingness to forgive that sets Christian Community apart in this world. It's what people crave - to be forgiven when they mess things up. It's the kind of thing that might bring a prodigal back home - to stay.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
I'm Feeling Pretty Stupid Right About Now
In my previous post, I wrote about the eye-opening blog that I discovered, thanks to my co-worker - one cube over. I got all wrapped up in the story and told each of my two blog readers about it as well as my wife early this morning. It now appears that it's all a hoax, part of a clever marketing campaign for a billboard sign company.
I'll admit that I'm the gullible sort. I take things at face value - which can leave me open to the occasional kick in the gut, pants or wherever. In this case it's almost disappointing. I guess I was hoping it would be real instead of the TV reality that most of us have become accustomed to. Had I not discovered the revelation this morning, I probably would have been suprised by the video posted today on the blog. I'm supposed to believe the video to be the work of a private investigator. If that's the case, shouldn't he be a little farther away. At least they are on TV. I'd like to think I would notice a guy with a video camera right across the table or up the sidewalk from me. Then again, I don't know what I'd do.
If this is in fact a hoax, I have only one question...where in the hell can I sign up for a job like that? Getting paid for making up a storyline like this one? I'll bet people would be standing in line. Wouldn't you?
I'll admit that I'm the gullible sort. I take things at face value - which can leave me open to the occasional kick in the gut, pants or wherever. In this case it's almost disappointing. I guess I was hoping it would be real instead of the TV reality that most of us have become accustomed to. Had I not discovered the revelation this morning, I probably would have been suprised by the video posted today on the blog. I'm supposed to believe the video to be the work of a private investigator. If that's the case, shouldn't he be a little farther away. At least they are on TV. I'd like to think I would notice a guy with a video camera right across the table or up the sidewalk from me. Then again, I don't know what I'd do.
If this is in fact a hoax, I have only one question...where in the hell can I sign up for a job like that? Getting paid for making up a storyline like this one? I'll bet people would be standing in line. Wouldn't you?
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Now, For Something Completely Different
Reader Caution: The links below contain some graphic language at times. Reader discretion strongly advised.
For those of you who get your news via the world-wide-web, you may have seen this today. Whether you have - or haven't - it's still worth a second look. A coworker sent me the link for the blog That Girl Emily. It's a blog about a woman, her self- discovery and the subsequent disclosure of her husband's affair with her best friend, Laura. Frightenly fresh, Emily's account covers barely 18 days leading up to her heartbreaking discovery - just days ago. No story here. This is real life. (Eat your heart out reality TV)
As the old saying goes, "hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn," or in this case, a woman scorned. Take a look at her plan to unleash 14 Days of Wrath on her unfaithful husband. Not to be outdone, day 2 is simply another magnificent reprisal. One can only imagine what the next 12 days hold for Steven. I say "you go, girl!"
As I read this account, I could only laugh. Had this story taken place in another part of New Jersey or a different family, Emily's brother probably would have gotten together with some of his buddies and taken Steven out in the woods. No one would have heard from him again - ever. That is if Emily hadn't already shot him first.
Of course now, in this post-modern, hi-tech information age, possibly half the world knows the mischief that Steven's been up to, as well as his shortcomings.
No pun intended.
For those of you who get your news via the world-wide-web, you may have seen this today. Whether you have - or haven't - it's still worth a second look. A coworker sent me the link for the blog That Girl Emily. It's a blog about a woman, her self- discovery and the subsequent disclosure of her husband's affair with her best friend, Laura. Frightenly fresh, Emily's account covers barely 18 days leading up to her heartbreaking discovery - just days ago. No story here. This is real life. (Eat your heart out reality TV)
As the old saying goes, "hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn," or in this case, a woman scorned. Take a look at her plan to unleash 14 Days of Wrath on her unfaithful husband. Not to be outdone, day 2 is simply another magnificent reprisal. One can only imagine what the next 12 days hold for Steven. I say "you go, girl!"
As I read this account, I could only laugh. Had this story taken place in another part of New Jersey or a different family, Emily's brother probably would have gotten together with some of his buddies and taken Steven out in the woods. No one would have heard from him again - ever. That is if Emily hadn't already shot him first.
Of course now, in this post-modern, hi-tech information age, possibly half the world knows the mischief that Steven's been up to, as well as his shortcomings.
No pun intended.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
How Valuable Is Christian Community?
A friend told me today that a mutual friend had decided to leave our church community to pursue a likely destructive relationship with someone she met not long ago. This girl came to us in a broken state and we've all witnessed her healing and transformation as a person. To hear now that she decided to leave the community who loves her to venture out on her own is heartbreaking.
A little over 5 years ago, my family embarqued on an adventure with several friends who wanted to see a new church in the city of Conroe, Texas. Many of us were from the mother church, the Vineyard Christian Fellowship of Spring. We were joined by others from the surrounding area around Conroe. Within no time - it seems anyway - we were a thriving church. Five years later I pause to look back and I'm amazed by what we've seen together. In telling our story to people outside of our church, many have made the comment "it sounds like you've joined a cult."
One of the biggest lessons I've learned while being yoked with this group of people has been the value of Christian Community. I've been in the church my entire life. I've seen the good, bad and ugly that church life can afford. Over the last year or so, I've even seen a lot of ugly within my own life and within my family. Still somehow, I find myself hanging around, wanting to be part of this thing. It's so strange. It's possibly the only thing that made me want to hang on when things seemed their worst. I know I've not experienced the same bond in other circles that I've been part of.
From the beginning of our experiment (as I like to call it), our pastor talked about the necessity of community. It's been the emphasis of our parent organization, the Vineyard Association of Churches for nearly as long as our church has existed. In today's world, people are looking to be connected to someone or something that is bigger than themselves. Whether it's an extended family, membership in some sort of organization or club - or even a gang - people want to belong somewhere. Now, after hearing this message for the last 5 years, I think it's finally taken hold. I can't imagine my life outside of our church. The rest of my family feels the same. We've shared a lot with this group of people. Like most things, the shared experiences serve to bind everyone even closer together.
Many of us live down the street and around the corner from each other. As I understand, we have some 30 or so families within 5 miles of our church. That's pretty close by anyone's standards. Of course, building such a tight-knit community means people get to know each others' secrets, weaknesses and very often failures too. At times, such a thing can be over- whelming. We all want our space and our privacy. The trouble is that we can waste away in secrecy. Community, in its truest sense, doesn't seek to exploit weakness but protect it and apply healing there. The skeptic might not believe that he can be healed by such an ordinary instrument as the community around him. As one who's been wounded and is now on the mend, it's simply a wonder to behold.
Now that I'm on my way to the "other side" from the "being healed" to joining the ranks of the "wounded healers," my mind continually goes to my friend. She is dearly loved and will be truly missed within our community. What can we do for her now? What are we supposed to do? You see, it's not about laying blame or giving correction anymore. No. It's about rescuing one of our own. It's doing something that Jesus did and would do. Community isn't just a cup of coffee, as we've often said around our church. This is where the rubber meets the road. Community is like an extended family and family doesn't give up on each other.
So, how valuable is community? Or what is community worth? It's invaluable in my estimation. In times like these, we can show how valuable it is for the benefit of everyone else.
A little over 5 years ago, my family embarqued on an adventure with several friends who wanted to see a new church in the city of Conroe, Texas. Many of us were from the mother church, the Vineyard Christian Fellowship of Spring. We were joined by others from the surrounding area around Conroe. Within no time - it seems anyway - we were a thriving church. Five years later I pause to look back and I'm amazed by what we've seen together. In telling our story to people outside of our church, many have made the comment "it sounds like you've joined a cult."
One of the biggest lessons I've learned while being yoked with this group of people has been the value of Christian Community. I've been in the church my entire life. I've seen the good, bad and ugly that church life can afford. Over the last year or so, I've even seen a lot of ugly within my own life and within my family. Still somehow, I find myself hanging around, wanting to be part of this thing. It's so strange. It's possibly the only thing that made me want to hang on when things seemed their worst. I know I've not experienced the same bond in other circles that I've been part of.
From the beginning of our experiment (as I like to call it), our pastor talked about the necessity of community. It's been the emphasis of our parent organization, the Vineyard Association of Churches for nearly as long as our church has existed. In today's world, people are looking to be connected to someone or something that is bigger than themselves. Whether it's an extended family, membership in some sort of organization or club - or even a gang - people want to belong somewhere. Now, after hearing this message for the last 5 years, I think it's finally taken hold. I can't imagine my life outside of our church. The rest of my family feels the same. We've shared a lot with this group of people. Like most things, the shared experiences serve to bind everyone even closer together.
Many of us live down the street and around the corner from each other. As I understand, we have some 30 or so families within 5 miles of our church. That's pretty close by anyone's standards. Of course, building such a tight-knit community means people get to know each others' secrets, weaknesses and very often failures too. At times, such a thing can be over- whelming. We all want our space and our privacy. The trouble is that we can waste away in secrecy. Community, in its truest sense, doesn't seek to exploit weakness but protect it and apply healing there. The skeptic might not believe that he can be healed by such an ordinary instrument as the community around him. As one who's been wounded and is now on the mend, it's simply a wonder to behold.
Now that I'm on my way to the "other side" from the "being healed" to joining the ranks of the "wounded healers," my mind continually goes to my friend. She is dearly loved and will be truly missed within our community. What can we do for her now? What are we supposed to do? You see, it's not about laying blame or giving correction anymore. No. It's about rescuing one of our own. It's doing something that Jesus did and would do. Community isn't just a cup of coffee, as we've often said around our church. This is where the rubber meets the road. Community is like an extended family and family doesn't give up on each other.
So, how valuable is community? Or what is community worth? It's invaluable in my estimation. In times like these, we can show how valuable it is for the benefit of everyone else.
Friday, June 30, 2006
An Alternative Summer Vacation Destination
Every year about this time people start discussing where they're going for vacation. Maybe it's Disney World, or going on a cruise. For the last 5 out of 8 years, my family have spent a week at the Cornerstone Festival just outside lovely Bushnell, IL. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or so I've heard. If the sight of cornfields and farm houses - as far as the eye can see - is what one considers lovely, it must be just like home. Every year the town and neighboring cities anticipate the influx of some 30,000 festival-goers who represent a financial shot-in-the-arm for the local agriculturally based economy.
This marks the 23rd year that the Jesus People USA have put on the festival, which often resembles the best of Woodstock, with its hippy happiness. (JPUSA was started by a group of born-again hippies in the early 70's.) Cornerstone is the grandfather of Christian music festivals, drawing the most muscial acts of any such festival in the country. Hundreds of acres become home to some 25,000 campers over a one-week period. It's not just about the music however. There are seminar speakers every day covering a wide-range of topics for the Christian, seeker or whoever.
The first year that my wife and I went to the festival, in 1999, we went without the kids and were volunteers. That meant in exchange for our work we would be refunded the price of admission. Depending on the job, that could be a great deal. For an inexpensive vacation, that was the ticket. We volunteered again on our last trip in 2005. It was simply the longest week of our lives. By midweek, we were asking ourselves "why are we spending our vacation doing this?" We both swore we'd never do such a thing again. Vacation is too dear to spend it working.
Something to consider about an outdoor activity, like this festival, is the weather. The first year my wife and I were at the festival, in 1999, we were flooded out of our tents. It didn't rain again over the rest of the week, but there was mud for two more days. We returned in 2000 with our 3 children. It rained 3 out of 5 days. Mud was everywhere - up to a foot deep. It was a nightmare for adults; a dream come true for kids. Our other 3 trips have seen little or no rain. A good thing you might say. Believe it or not, it isn't. Instead of mud, there's plenty of dust. I didn't know this before, but during the summer, there's little difference between Illinois and Texas. It makes one wonder why they'd spend good money to go camping in a cornfield. Maybe I'm just getting old, but going in a RV is much more appealing.
This year my son is going without his parents and siblings as a reward for attending summer school. He hitched a ride yesterday with his aunt and uncle who previous made plans to go. My wife wanted to go this year, but her stick-in-the-mud husband didn't want to brave the high gas prices for a cross-country road trip to camp under the stars. The truth is after two years of being on or near an RV, the thought of going back to a tent in the field just didn't appeal. Dust is bad enough. Mud is much worse.
According to weather.com, rain is in the forecast for July 3rd and 4th, just in time to greet the festival campers when they arrive. The truth is though it may rain for just a day, the mud will last much longer. Have fun guys. You can tell me all about it.
This marks the 23rd year that the Jesus People USA have put on the festival, which often resembles the best of Woodstock, with its hippy happiness. (JPUSA was started by a group of born-again hippies in the early 70's.) Cornerstone is the grandfather of Christian music festivals, drawing the most muscial acts of any such festival in the country. Hundreds of acres become home to some 25,000 campers over a one-week period. It's not just about the music however. There are seminar speakers every day covering a wide-range of topics for the Christian, seeker or whoever.
The first year that my wife and I went to the festival, in 1999, we went without the kids and were volunteers. That meant in exchange for our work we would be refunded the price of admission. Depending on the job, that could be a great deal. For an inexpensive vacation, that was the ticket. We volunteered again on our last trip in 2005. It was simply the longest week of our lives. By midweek, we were asking ourselves "why are we spending our vacation doing this?" We both swore we'd never do such a thing again. Vacation is too dear to spend it working.
Something to consider about an outdoor activity, like this festival, is the weather. The first year my wife and I were at the festival, in 1999, we were flooded out of our tents. It didn't rain again over the rest of the week, but there was mud for two more days. We returned in 2000 with our 3 children. It rained 3 out of 5 days. Mud was everywhere - up to a foot deep. It was a nightmare for adults; a dream come true for kids. Our other 3 trips have seen little or no rain. A good thing you might say. Believe it or not, it isn't. Instead of mud, there's plenty of dust. I didn't know this before, but during the summer, there's little difference between Illinois and Texas. It makes one wonder why they'd spend good money to go camping in a cornfield. Maybe I'm just getting old, but going in a RV is much more appealing.
This year my son is going without his parents and siblings as a reward for attending summer school. He hitched a ride yesterday with his aunt and uncle who previous made plans to go. My wife wanted to go this year, but her stick-in-the-mud husband didn't want to brave the high gas prices for a cross-country road trip to camp under the stars. The truth is after two years of being on or near an RV, the thought of going back to a tent in the field just didn't appeal. Dust is bad enough. Mud is much worse.
According to weather.com, rain is in the forecast for July 3rd and 4th, just in time to greet the festival campers when they arrive. The truth is though it may rain for just a day, the mud will last much longer. Have fun guys. You can tell me all about it.
An Update of Sorts...
Today marks 3 weeks of being medicated. After my first week of being on Citalopram I was bumped up from 20 mg to 40 mg. Honestly, I've not been able to tell a difference physically. There have been no real side-affects to speak of. No problems that I can tell. I guess it's all good. I've not had any depressive episodes to speak of so the meds must be doing the trick.
I also received a prescription for a sleep aid, Ambien, since during the initial interview I mentioned having trouble sleeping. After of almost a week, I'm beginning to wonder if my sleeping habits have had an effect on my mental health in the past. I've been enjoying getting up during the week and feeling really refreshed. That's usually reserved for Saturdays and the occasional Sunday. I don't quite know what to do with myself now. I should have checked into this a long time ago!
I also received a prescription for a sleep aid, Ambien, since during the initial interview I mentioned having trouble sleeping. After of almost a week, I'm beginning to wonder if my sleeping habits have had an effect on my mental health in the past. I've been enjoying getting up during the week and feeling really refreshed. That's usually reserved for Saturdays and the occasional Sunday. I don't quite know what to do with myself now. I should have checked into this a long time ago!
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Make No Mistake About It: It's About the Almighty Dollar
It's been a little over a week since my "rooftop" experience (sorry, no mountains around these parts) and I keep learning things every day. Something I learned a long time ago is that regardless of what any of us think, in our world, money is what makes the world go around. As terrible as it is to admit, we all know it's true.
I was really excited when I started my current job with Stewart again. I knew I would eventually have benefits and all the trappings that come with a corporate job. Once I actually received those benefits - after the 90 day waiting period - I was a little suprised at how much I would actually pay for them. But, I had insurance afterall, so it's all okay, right? It got even better when I considered seeing a psychiatrist and realized that such visits and medication were covered under my plan. Excellent news, right?
Last week, after my visit with the nurse, I discovered after leaving the office that I didn't have the prescription that I had actually come for. I called the office back, talked to the nurse and had her call it in. Over the next several days, I called the pharmacy to check on the prescription only to find out that it was on hold, needing additional approval from the doctor. "That's weird," I thought. I spoke to the nurse again and she assured me that she would take care of it.
After several days of a lot of back-and-forth with the insurance company, the word finally came that the prescription that I had been given for Zoloft was not covered under my plan. Apparently they covered other similar drugs, Celexa in this case, but not Zoloft. Supposedly a generic form of the drug will be available at the end of the month and it might be covered at that point in time. Yeah, well...we'll see. In the mean time, the nurse suggested trying the "other" drug until we could determine if the generic for Zoloft would be available.
I knew going in that finding the right drug would be a matter of trial and error. One drug that worked for one person might not work as well for me or visa versa. (My makeup is a little weird anyway. It seems that nothing works for me the same as it might for anyone else.) Up until now, I've been blessed my entire life to have been healthy. I've never had a prescription for anything other than an acne cream or something I was given to counter pneumonia or an infection in my body. I've only taken Celexa for 4 days and I'm not sure how it's affecting me. One day I was so groggy, it felt like being drunk. Today, it was probably the best I've felt since I started taking the drug. I know it's going to take some time to evaluate and see what is going to work best.
I've heard stories about how prescription drug companies jockey for position with local doctors' offices. It took seeing the whole thing in motion to realize what I had heard was actually true. I didn't know going in that my insurance company had only 3 name-brand drugs that would be covered under my plan. I should have known this. It seemed ridiculous however that with all the mental health drugs available on the market, my insurance company would only cover 3 of them. I wouldn't be suprised if this were the same with every other insurance provider.
The truth is that this drug or that is preferred or more readily available because of how the drug maker lobbied with this or that practice or insurance group to get their support to prescribe the medication. Go to another physician or insurance plan and it might be something else. I'm not saying that this is bad, but I don't know that it's good either. Supposedly our medical system is much better than in countries where the care is state-supported. Still, in an industry that is supposed to be about valuing life and making it better, it still comes down to good 'ol politics. I can only imagine how the scale expands when moving from the local practice to the large medical groups and insurance companies around the country. Special favors and all kinds of little perks along the way. Recently there were several reports about lawmakers in Washington receiving thousands of dollars in trips and cash. I'm sure medical insurance companies were right there in the thick of it.
What does that mean for me, the patient? Well, hopefully that I can get whatever I need and be better for it. More importantly, I'd better go in with both eyes wide-open, do my homework and pay attention to details - now, moreso than ever. As much as we hope that the doc we see is going to help us or that our insurance is going to pay their percentage of our bill, in the end it's a muli-billion dollar enterprise and they, like any other company, want to make as much money as they can along the way.
Because, in the end, it's about the almighty dollar.
I was really excited when I started my current job with Stewart again. I knew I would eventually have benefits and all the trappings that come with a corporate job. Once I actually received those benefits - after the 90 day waiting period - I was a little suprised at how much I would actually pay for them. But, I had insurance afterall, so it's all okay, right? It got even better when I considered seeing a psychiatrist and realized that such visits and medication were covered under my plan. Excellent news, right?
Last week, after my visit with the nurse, I discovered after leaving the office that I didn't have the prescription that I had actually come for. I called the office back, talked to the nurse and had her call it in. Over the next several days, I called the pharmacy to check on the prescription only to find out that it was on hold, needing additional approval from the doctor. "That's weird," I thought. I spoke to the nurse again and she assured me that she would take care of it.
After several days of a lot of back-and-forth with the insurance company, the word finally came that the prescription that I had been given for Zoloft was not covered under my plan. Apparently they covered other similar drugs, Celexa in this case, but not Zoloft. Supposedly a generic form of the drug will be available at the end of the month and it might be covered at that point in time. Yeah, well...we'll see. In the mean time, the nurse suggested trying the "other" drug until we could determine if the generic for Zoloft would be available.
I knew going in that finding the right drug would be a matter of trial and error. One drug that worked for one person might not work as well for me or visa versa. (My makeup is a little weird anyway. It seems that nothing works for me the same as it might for anyone else.) Up until now, I've been blessed my entire life to have been healthy. I've never had a prescription for anything other than an acne cream or something I was given to counter pneumonia or an infection in my body. I've only taken Celexa for 4 days and I'm not sure how it's affecting me. One day I was so groggy, it felt like being drunk. Today, it was probably the best I've felt since I started taking the drug. I know it's going to take some time to evaluate and see what is going to work best.
I've heard stories about how prescription drug companies jockey for position with local doctors' offices. It took seeing the whole thing in motion to realize what I had heard was actually true. I didn't know going in that my insurance company had only 3 name-brand drugs that would be covered under my plan. I should have known this. It seemed ridiculous however that with all the mental health drugs available on the market, my insurance company would only cover 3 of them. I wouldn't be suprised if this were the same with every other insurance provider.
The truth is that this drug or that is preferred or more readily available because of how the drug maker lobbied with this or that practice or insurance group to get their support to prescribe the medication. Go to another physician or insurance plan and it might be something else. I'm not saying that this is bad, but I don't know that it's good either. Supposedly our medical system is much better than in countries where the care is state-supported. Still, in an industry that is supposed to be about valuing life and making it better, it still comes down to good 'ol politics. I can only imagine how the scale expands when moving from the local practice to the large medical groups and insurance companies around the country. Special favors and all kinds of little perks along the way. Recently there were several reports about lawmakers in Washington receiving thousands of dollars in trips and cash. I'm sure medical insurance companies were right there in the thick of it.
What does that mean for me, the patient? Well, hopefully that I can get whatever I need and be better for it. More importantly, I'd better go in with both eyes wide-open, do my homework and pay attention to details - now, moreso than ever. As much as we hope that the doc we see is going to help us or that our insurance is going to pay their percentage of our bill, in the end it's a muli-billion dollar enterprise and they, like any other company, want to make as much money as they can along the way.
Because, in the end, it's about the almighty dollar.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Sometimes Peace Is Found In The Oddest Of Places
This past Friday, I went to see the nurse practitioner for the psychiatrist I chose from my medical plan. I've never been to see a counselor let alone a psychiatrist and I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I followed the nurse into the room. Instead of an examination table, there were two easy chairs and a love seat. It was a very comfortable room. The walls were light blue and the chairs were almost navy. After 45 minutes of questions and answers, the nurse said she was going to prescribe Zoloft and explained why.
To me, it's always fascinating to have someone describe me to me. You know, like in the personality tests and such "you are like so...you like this...you don't like that." It's cool to me because I can agree or disagree, depending on how good - or how bad - the analysis is. In this case, the nurse was spot-on. No need to disagree. So, when she told me that she had prescribed Zoloft to others who she had seen with some of the same problems, I felt pretty good about at least trying it. We also talked about alternative medications, but came back to the original recommendation for Zoloft. I was given the long list of possible side-effects as well as the anticipated results and was anticipating seeing how it would affect me.
But, a funny thing happened on my way out of the office (not like the joke, "on the way to the office..." Never mind. Bad joke) ...the nurse forgot to give me the prescription. I eventually called the office and was able to get the prescription called in. Currently, I am waiting on the doc's approval to get the prescription - hopefully tomorrow. Still I was disappointed. I wanted to see if this medication might be what I've been looking for for the past year or so. I went on home to get back to work on my house.
Earlier in the week, after I had scheduled the appointment, my sister contacted me about her, my brother-in-law, their daughter and two grandchildren coming to our house. My brother- in-law is a master plumber and we had been talking about him doing some work on our shower. In the course of our most recent conversation, he said he would just come in on Friday and take care of our plumbing problem. We really needed the work done, but didn't realize just how extensive the work would be. It wasn't going to be a matter of replacing one pipe, but everything in the house. Talk about surprise! It's a good thing I took the whole day off. I needed every minute before we were done.
To make matters worse, it's already June here in southeast Texas and the temperature is already hitting the mid 90's in the afternoons. Now add another 20 or 30 degrees and that's supposedly the temperature in the attic. The high on Friday was 96, so we were working in 116-126 degree conditions for the entire day.
We got started around 6 AM doing the preparatory work. I had to shower before my Dr.s' appointment and left around 9:30 AM. I returned about 12:30 PM, changed clothes and went into the attic. By then, the temperatures outside were nearing the high for the day. The air in the attic was so hot that it burned my nose and mouth when I inhaled. My shirt was wet after just a few minutes. My brother-in-law was the brains of this operation and would have to cut and fit the pieces for the new connections being installed. He also had hurt one of his knees recently, so I had to do the crawling around in the attic just because I could.
My brother-in-law lined me out on what I needed to get done and he went back down the attic ladder and left me to myself and the pipe work. These were old, galvanized metal pipes that undoubtedly had rusted long ago (hence my plumbing problem) and the progress on the job would be difficult. As anyone who knows me can attest, I do not like being hot or dirty - or both. I'm not a pleasant person to be around if I'm one, or the other - or both. But, here I was, about to embarque on a very difficult task in a difficult environment. It was at this moment that the Peace came.
I can't really explain what it was other than a sense of calm resolve. I also felt that God was in the attic with me. It was in that moment I said "God, I embrace all of this - the heat, the dust & everything else. I want to do this with You today." In that moment, it was if He said in response "Okay."
For the next 10 hours, I did all sorts of things I didn't think I could have done before. However, most remarkable to me was that I didn't get nearly as frustrated and lose my temper as I often do on smaller, less difficult projects. Instead, I enjoyed this - despite getting a little too hot a few times and coming down with cramps. It may have helped that I was working with my brother-in-law, who, in addition to being a plumber, is also an ordained minister. Perhaps that was all part of the plan. My sister noted at the end of the day, that despite having worked together all day and being extremely tired, though we were a little cranky, we weren't out of sorts with each other. I had to agree with her. I've lost my head with people on lesser jobs.
I realize to someone who might be reading this that it doesn't sound like that big a thing that happened to me. I have to say it was huge and profound on a lot of levels. I probably could have had the same experience during a walk or over a cup of coffee. But, I didn't. My attic was my own little chapel last Friday. I have to believe that if I can find Peace in a place like that, I should be able to find it anywhere, anytime I need it.
And maybe that's the whole point: to steal away somewhere - where there aren't any of the normal distractions - in order to connect with God. Of course, such a place could be anywhere: behind the wheel of a car, in one's bedroom, along a scenic walkway or sitting on the toilet in your bathroom. Whatever it is, it's just important to connect with God while you're there.
To me, it's always fascinating to have someone describe me to me. You know, like in the personality tests and such "you are like so...you like this...you don't like that." It's cool to me because I can agree or disagree, depending on how good - or how bad - the analysis is. In this case, the nurse was spot-on. No need to disagree. So, when she told me that she had prescribed Zoloft to others who she had seen with some of the same problems, I felt pretty good about at least trying it. We also talked about alternative medications, but came back to the original recommendation for Zoloft. I was given the long list of possible side-effects as well as the anticipated results and was anticipating seeing how it would affect me.
But, a funny thing happened on my way out of the office (not like the joke, "on the way to the office..." Never mind. Bad joke) ...the nurse forgot to give me the prescription. I eventually called the office and was able to get the prescription called in. Currently, I am waiting on the doc's approval to get the prescription - hopefully tomorrow. Still I was disappointed. I wanted to see if this medication might be what I've been looking for for the past year or so. I went on home to get back to work on my house.
Earlier in the week, after I had scheduled the appointment, my sister contacted me about her, my brother-in-law, their daughter and two grandchildren coming to our house. My brother- in-law is a master plumber and we had been talking about him doing some work on our shower. In the course of our most recent conversation, he said he would just come in on Friday and take care of our plumbing problem. We really needed the work done, but didn't realize just how extensive the work would be. It wasn't going to be a matter of replacing one pipe, but everything in the house. Talk about surprise! It's a good thing I took the whole day off. I needed every minute before we were done.
To make matters worse, it's already June here in southeast Texas and the temperature is already hitting the mid 90's in the afternoons. Now add another 20 or 30 degrees and that's supposedly the temperature in the attic. The high on Friday was 96, so we were working in 116-126 degree conditions for the entire day.
We got started around 6 AM doing the preparatory work. I had to shower before my Dr.s' appointment and left around 9:30 AM. I returned about 12:30 PM, changed clothes and went into the attic. By then, the temperatures outside were nearing the high for the day. The air in the attic was so hot that it burned my nose and mouth when I inhaled. My shirt was wet after just a few minutes. My brother-in-law was the brains of this operation and would have to cut and fit the pieces for the new connections being installed. He also had hurt one of his knees recently, so I had to do the crawling around in the attic just because I could.
My brother-in-law lined me out on what I needed to get done and he went back down the attic ladder and left me to myself and the pipe work. These were old, galvanized metal pipes that undoubtedly had rusted long ago (hence my plumbing problem) and the progress on the job would be difficult. As anyone who knows me can attest, I do not like being hot or dirty - or both. I'm not a pleasant person to be around if I'm one, or the other - or both. But, here I was, about to embarque on a very difficult task in a difficult environment. It was at this moment that the Peace came.
I can't really explain what it was other than a sense of calm resolve. I also felt that God was in the attic with me. It was in that moment I said "God, I embrace all of this - the heat, the dust & everything else. I want to do this with You today." In that moment, it was if He said in response "Okay."
For the next 10 hours, I did all sorts of things I didn't think I could have done before. However, most remarkable to me was that I didn't get nearly as frustrated and lose my temper as I often do on smaller, less difficult projects. Instead, I enjoyed this - despite getting a little too hot a few times and coming down with cramps. It may have helped that I was working with my brother-in-law, who, in addition to being a plumber, is also an ordained minister. Perhaps that was all part of the plan. My sister noted at the end of the day, that despite having worked together all day and being extremely tired, though we were a little cranky, we weren't out of sorts with each other. I had to agree with her. I've lost my head with people on lesser jobs.
I realize to someone who might be reading this that it doesn't sound like that big a thing that happened to me. I have to say it was huge and profound on a lot of levels. I probably could have had the same experience during a walk or over a cup of coffee. But, I didn't. My attic was my own little chapel last Friday. I have to believe that if I can find Peace in a place like that, I should be able to find it anywhere, anytime I need it.
And maybe that's the whole point: to steal away somewhere - where there aren't any of the normal distractions - in order to connect with God. Of course, such a place could be anywhere: behind the wheel of a car, in one's bedroom, along a scenic walkway or sitting on the toilet in your bathroom. Whatever it is, it's just important to connect with God while you're there.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Depression and What to Do About It
I've being talking a lot to my wife and friends about the stuff I've been dealing with lately. I'm more the type of person who thinks about things - like why am I feeling this way - and tries to figure it out instead of asking for help. Maybe it's because I'm a guy. (I don't mind asking directions - most of the time. I do have my moments. If I'm in a hurry, no way.) I just figure I should be able to shake it off. Maybe I had too much to drink or I ate something bad. If I did, it should have worn off after a day. This stuff is always there. Something isn't right - with me!
My friends started talking about seeing a pyschiatrist and the possibility of needing medication, and I freaked out a bit. I think it's huge that I've been able to come to the realization and admit that I have a problem with depression. I'm learning however that there's a huge expanse between admitting there's a problem and actively seeking out help for it.
It's really a matter of making the call and following through with a visit. It's crazy (no pun intended) but I'm a grown man and I'm actually scared to death that one of these guys might tell me that I actually have something wrong with me. Crazy indeed!
I plan to continue to write about this. A friend of mine recommended a website, Real Live Preacher. It's a blog, more or less, by a real, live preacher who has journaled his experiences on the web - including his bouts with depression and dealing with the treatment of the condition. I hope my experience will be positive, like his. I guess we'll see - together...
Gee, that's weird to say that.
My friends started talking about seeing a pyschiatrist and the possibility of needing medication, and I freaked out a bit. I think it's huge that I've been able to come to the realization and admit that I have a problem with depression. I'm learning however that there's a huge expanse between admitting there's a problem and actively seeking out help for it.
It's really a matter of making the call and following through with a visit. It's crazy (no pun intended) but I'm a grown man and I'm actually scared to death that one of these guys might tell me that I actually have something wrong with me. Crazy indeed!
I plan to continue to write about this. A friend of mine recommended a website, Real Live Preacher. It's a blog, more or less, by a real, live preacher who has journaled his experiences on the web - including his bouts with depression and dealing with the treatment of the condition. I hope my experience will be positive, like his. I guess we'll see - together...
Gee, that's weird to say that.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Could this be a turning point?
Here's a bit of information about myself...
I must be an optomist because I'm always looking forward to, or hoping, for a turning point in my life. I know I've had them: times in my life when everything changed, one way or another.
Just a few...James Sprayberry coming to Malakoff High School as band director. Until he arrived, I planned to get out of band after the 8th grade year. James Sprayberry's death was also a turning point. Had he lived, I would likely have been a band geek from that point forward. The decision about where to go to college was a turning point. Deciding against going to LeTourneau and going to Evangel instead was huge. Then, the choice to go to Southwestern. I digress...
One thing I often prayed for as a young man was for a "spiritual" turning point. I was looking for a distinctive place where I knew that God intervened and everything was changed for the better. There have been quite a few of these in my life. Not very many in the past several years. Still, I've hoped for them though they have been hard to come by as of late.
I've written here - quite often over the past few months - that I've been in a rough spot. It's hard to put in words, but it's been like walking through a thick fog or a smoke screen of sorts. Perhaps this is the mid-life crisis that I've been told awaits every man at some point in the years between his 30's and 50's. I don't know. I've been coming to grips with the fact that things didn't go the way I would have liked and I've had to "make- do."
At this point it seems really pathetic as I re-read that previous sentence. Everyone has to do it - at some point. Realize that I'm not going to be a millionaire. That the city won't name the street where my parents still live - in my childhood hometown - after me. That a lot of those dreams about life, ministry, or whatever were little more than dreams or misconceptions about how things work. So, what am I supposed to do now? Such is the question that I've been faced with when I get up to make my hour-long commute from the outskirts to uptown Houston. Is this all there is? Will this be what I do for the rest of my life?
I think I've felt very justified in being in touch with these feelings. Afterall, it's taken quite a while to be able to verbalize what's been going on for what has been a long time. So as pathetic as it is - there's a point to it, to grieve for what hasn't been realized and what should be let go of and ultimately be given to God. That is where I've been. Enter the turning point.
Tonight, we had a guest speaker at our month-end evening service. Her name was Ms. Choi. She's a house -church leader/planter from China. She's been imprisoned 4 separate times because of her faith. She's also founded an orphanage and is responsible for the birth of hundreds more house-churches in China and literally thousands - perhaps millions - of believers throughout China and other parts of the world. During her imprisonment, she received unbelievable punishment at the hands of her captors. Yet, through it all her faith was strengthened and became more inspirational to the people around her. Her life is one of being given lemons and in turn planting an orchard. To explain her and her testimony could only fall short with mere words. The woman, who is only slight in stature, is truly a spiritual giant in the Kingdom of God.
As I heard her talk, I felt as if God was speaking to my own struggles with my place and role within my community and church. Honestly it seems that everything is being stripped away in one way or another. It's as if I've sort of entered a prison of sorts - without the bars. This isn't the work of a person, or a group of people, to put me in my place. It can only be the work of God Almighty.
Paul talks about the the work of a potter and then absurdity of the clay telling the potter how to go about forming it. Quite often, that is what we do. "God I want this or that." Or "don't make me do this or that." We envision ourselves doing all these great things for God and His Kingdom but we fail to realize He has plans for us because we fight Him at every turning point. This is where I've been lately. It's hard to go to church and participate because I'm no longer doing what I was formerly accustomed to. Dare I say that I know better than God? I say I don't, but my actions speak otherwise.
Ms. Choi said she had to stand for hours at a time while in a crowded cell in China. She could sit, stand or kneel, but could not recline or lie down. Such was the mistreatment of her captors. What did she do, how did she respond? She asked for strength from God. When she thought she was to be executed, she made peace with death. When she was not killed, she prayed for deliverance - which eventually came. Her life, in-turn, became an inspiration to millions while she did exactly what she could - she lived out her life.
It probably doesn't sound that awe inspiring. Just looking at a lady, who probably isn't more than 5' 2", who read her testimony to the church. She doesn't look like the type who would start hundreds of underground churches, but that is her legacy. Perhaps the word for me is to focus my energies on where I already am. She was in prison. I'm locked into a 1-hour+ commute and a high-rise office. Her last stay in prison was over 10 months. I've been where I am about the same amount of time. She didn't speculate on why she was there, but sought to make an impact where she was. Can I make an impact in my world? That's the question - at this point in time. "God, what would you have me to do?" I don't need to know the significance of what I'm doing right now. I just need to keep doing it I guess.
As we closed out the service, our pastor asked Ms. Choi to pray over our church. For almost 4 minutes, the lady fervently spoke to the Eternal God with a fervency I've not seen in quite some time. She spoke in her native tongue, which at times sounded like some of the syllables I've heard uttered by those who "spoke in tongues" in the church meetings I grew up in. She was praying for us and honestly, it felt that she had a connection with the Almighty that all of us present could only wish we had. I'm curious to know what she said about us and what she asked God to do. Then again, I might not need to know. I'm sure it will be revealed in time.
As for this being a turning point, I sure hope it is. I sure need one.
I must be an optomist because I'm always looking forward to, or hoping, for a turning point in my life. I know I've had them: times in my life when everything changed, one way or another.
Just a few...James Sprayberry coming to Malakoff High School as band director. Until he arrived, I planned to get out of band after the 8th grade year. James Sprayberry's death was also a turning point. Had he lived, I would likely have been a band geek from that point forward. The decision about where to go to college was a turning point. Deciding against going to LeTourneau and going to Evangel instead was huge. Then, the choice to go to Southwestern. I digress...
One thing I often prayed for as a young man was for a "spiritual" turning point. I was looking for a distinctive place where I knew that God intervened and everything was changed for the better. There have been quite a few of these in my life. Not very many in the past several years. Still, I've hoped for them though they have been hard to come by as of late.
I've written here - quite often over the past few months - that I've been in a rough spot. It's hard to put in words, but it's been like walking through a thick fog or a smoke screen of sorts. Perhaps this is the mid-life crisis that I've been told awaits every man at some point in the years between his 30's and 50's. I don't know. I've been coming to grips with the fact that things didn't go the way I would have liked and I've had to "make- do."
At this point it seems really pathetic as I re-read that previous sentence. Everyone has to do it - at some point. Realize that I'm not going to be a millionaire. That the city won't name the street where my parents still live - in my childhood hometown - after me. That a lot of those dreams about life, ministry, or whatever were little more than dreams or misconceptions about how things work. So, what am I supposed to do now? Such is the question that I've been faced with when I get up to make my hour-long commute from the outskirts to uptown Houston. Is this all there is? Will this be what I do for the rest of my life?
I think I've felt very justified in being in touch with these feelings. Afterall, it's taken quite a while to be able to verbalize what's been going on for what has been a long time. So as pathetic as it is - there's a point to it, to grieve for what hasn't been realized and what should be let go of and ultimately be given to God. That is where I've been. Enter the turning point.
Tonight, we had a guest speaker at our month-end evening service. Her name was Ms. Choi. She's a house -church leader/planter from China. She's been imprisoned 4 separate times because of her faith. She's also founded an orphanage and is responsible for the birth of hundreds more house-churches in China and literally thousands - perhaps millions - of believers throughout China and other parts of the world. During her imprisonment, she received unbelievable punishment at the hands of her captors. Yet, through it all her faith was strengthened and became more inspirational to the people around her. Her life is one of being given lemons and in turn planting an orchard. To explain her and her testimony could only fall short with mere words. The woman, who is only slight in stature, is truly a spiritual giant in the Kingdom of God.
As I heard her talk, I felt as if God was speaking to my own struggles with my place and role within my community and church. Honestly it seems that everything is being stripped away in one way or another. It's as if I've sort of entered a prison of sorts - without the bars. This isn't the work of a person, or a group of people, to put me in my place. It can only be the work of God Almighty.
Paul talks about the the work of a potter and then absurdity of the clay telling the potter how to go about forming it. Quite often, that is what we do. "God I want this or that." Or "don't make me do this or that." We envision ourselves doing all these great things for God and His Kingdom but we fail to realize He has plans for us because we fight Him at every turning point. This is where I've been lately. It's hard to go to church and participate because I'm no longer doing what I was formerly accustomed to. Dare I say that I know better than God? I say I don't, but my actions speak otherwise.
Ms. Choi said she had to stand for hours at a time while in a crowded cell in China. She could sit, stand or kneel, but could not recline or lie down. Such was the mistreatment of her captors. What did she do, how did she respond? She asked for strength from God. When she thought she was to be executed, she made peace with death. When she was not killed, she prayed for deliverance - which eventually came. Her life, in-turn, became an inspiration to millions while she did exactly what she could - she lived out her life.
It probably doesn't sound that awe inspiring. Just looking at a lady, who probably isn't more than 5' 2", who read her testimony to the church. She doesn't look like the type who would start hundreds of underground churches, but that is her legacy. Perhaps the word for me is to focus my energies on where I already am. She was in prison. I'm locked into a 1-hour+ commute and a high-rise office. Her last stay in prison was over 10 months. I've been where I am about the same amount of time. She didn't speculate on why she was there, but sought to make an impact where she was. Can I make an impact in my world? That's the question - at this point in time. "God, what would you have me to do?" I don't need to know the significance of what I'm doing right now. I just need to keep doing it I guess.
As we closed out the service, our pastor asked Ms. Choi to pray over our church. For almost 4 minutes, the lady fervently spoke to the Eternal God with a fervency I've not seen in quite some time. She spoke in her native tongue, which at times sounded like some of the syllables I've heard uttered by those who "spoke in tongues" in the church meetings I grew up in. She was praying for us and honestly, it felt that she had a connection with the Almighty that all of us present could only wish we had. I'm curious to know what she said about us and what she asked God to do. Then again, I might not need to know. I'm sure it will be revealed in time.
As for this being a turning point, I sure hope it is. I sure need one.
Friday, May 19, 2006
I'll Probably Regret This...
I've been going through an emotional rough spot lately. I've been thinking about a lot of things, wondering if things would have been better - or worse - if I had made different decisions. It can be dangerous territory , but everybody does it, right? I just had one that I've not thought about - ever - until now.
Cue Bruce Springsteen's "Glory Days"...
I used to play baseball - until I wrecked my arm. One of my favorite pitchers was - and still is - Roger Clemens. In the 80's, Roger had his shoulder scoped and the procedure literally saved his career. I had developed a shoulder problem and thought my condition was similar. I went to a sports doc to evaluate whether or not to have the surgery. Since I still wanted to play, the doc encouraged it. Things didn't go quite right with the procedure and I was through with baseball just a few months later.
I've got 3 game balls at my desk - in my "feel good" corner - from 3 of the best baseball games I pitched during high school.
One is from my junior year. We beat Palmer HS 12-3 on April 25, 1986 on our own field. I had 11 strikeouts in a 7-inning game against the 6th-ranked team in the Texas in 2A. My old little league coach suggested to our coach that I get the game ball after the game. The two coaches agreed and gave me the ball. I had dominated the same team a few weeks earlier in a error-plagued loss.
One little tidbit from my baseball career - I had to get a lot of strikeouts every time out. If anybody hit the ball, I was in trouble - as was indicated by my win-loss record. I didn't know how to calculate my Earned Run Average (ERA) in those days, but I suspect it was very low. I don't think there was a game in which we failed to have an error in the 3 years I pitched. It's a pretty sad thing when a pitcher can't count on the players around him to make plays, as was the case with me and my team mates. To any of those guys that might be reading - if you're offended, you shouldn't be.
The other two balls are from my senior year.
One of those is from an 8-7 victory of our local rival, Mabank HS - at their place, in a game where I hit my first-ever home run in regulation ball. Mabank won our district title that year and went to the playoffs. Our team was the last to beat them in regular-season play (they were eliminated in the first round anyway). I had 12 strikeouts in 7 innings in that game. I had to convince the coach to let me pitch that game. I had pitched in a losing cause just days before and it wasn't my turn in the rotation. I just felt like we would win and begged him to let me go. After I got mobbed by my teammates when I walked off the mound at the end of the game, coach gave me a hug and told me I had proved him wrong. That was a great day.
The other is from my last HS game. It was against Forney HS on May 18, 1987 (19 years ago yesterday) at our home field. We played them just 3 weeks before this game and and I carried a no-hitter into the 4th or 5th inning before the errors took over. We also got into a full two-team scuffle after the game's last pitch and, on the way off campus, the other team threw rocks at our bus. When they showed up at our place, people were everywhere hoping we'd scuffle again. In the end, there was no need for a scuffle. I had 13 strikeouts that day and beat them 4-1. It would have been a shutout, had it not been for 3 errors that allowed the only runner that I allowed past 2nd base to score that day. The write up in the local newspaper described the performance as being overpowering. Forney also went to the playoffs that year and didn't get past the first round.
I'm writing all this stuff because I reminded myself what sort of gift I had as a teenager. I started pitching during the summer after 6th grade. My dad propped up an old tire against an old shed in our back yard for me to use as a strike zone. I practiced my pitches on that target until the wall behind it fell apart. When I entered high school, I tried out as an outfielder, because I didn't think I could make it as a pitcher. I was later converted to a catcher and made all district that season.
Toward the end of my freshman season, our baseball program began a 26-game losing streak that spanned 3 seasons. Our coach was looking for any and every way to break our skid early on. One day during batting practice, I asked if I could pitch. This coach - a different coach than the one's during my junior and senior season (we went through 3 coaches in 3 years) - didn't believe I could pitch. After batting practice, he scheduled me to pitch during an upcoming tournament. I didn't win in the tournament, but as an underclassman, I impressed both our coach and opposing coaches. For the rest of the season, I split time catching behind the plate and pitching in front of it.
I was selected to all-district and all-county teams throughout my 4-year HS baseball career and participated in 2 professional tryouts. Still, I was not signed to play college ball after high school. It was probably a good thing. The arm was virtually gone by then. Perhaps proper rehab could have helped what ailed me. I don't know. I later walked on at Evangel College in Springfield, MO and made the football team as a place-kicker. I spent two years there before returning to Texas. I grew up a lot during my time at EC. I also thought after I arrived back in Texas that I could make a comeback in baseball. Sadly it wasn't to be.
I say all of this because I remembered - just a few minutes ago - a phone call I received during my senior year of high school. It was from the head coach of the LeTourneau College (now University) wanting to talk baseball. I didn't get it then, but man, do I get it now. The guy was trying to recruit me. He talked about the school, what my future plans were and if I would consider LeTourneau after high school. For whatever reason, that I can't remember now, I turned him down - cold. He even called back again a few weeks later. I turned him down again. I was waiting on another phone call that would not come. Now that I think about it, I can't believe how short-sighted I was.I have no idea how LeTourneau's scholarship system was set up or what they would have been able to offer. What would've happened if I told the coach "yes, I'd like to talk about baseball and LeTourneau"? I guess it really doesn't matter anymore.
There are quite a few times that I've thought how nice it would be to pay a younger version of myself a visit at one of those crucial points in time and tell that goofball to make a different decision - like when Biff goes back in Back to the Future II to tell himself to use the sports history magazine to help him get rich. It probably wouldn't mean I would be rich or would even be playing professional baseball. But I wouldn't be wondering "what if" either.
That 18 year-old version of myself sure was a dumb kid. I should know.
Cue Bruce Springsteen's "Glory Days"...
I used to play baseball - until I wrecked my arm. One of my favorite pitchers was - and still is - Roger Clemens. In the 80's, Roger had his shoulder scoped and the procedure literally saved his career. I had developed a shoulder problem and thought my condition was similar. I went to a sports doc to evaluate whether or not to have the surgery. Since I still wanted to play, the doc encouraged it. Things didn't go quite right with the procedure and I was through with baseball just a few months later.
I've got 3 game balls at my desk - in my "feel good" corner - from 3 of the best baseball games I pitched during high school.
One is from my junior year. We beat Palmer HS 12-3 on April 25, 1986 on our own field. I had 11 strikeouts in a 7-inning game against the 6th-ranked team in the Texas in 2A. My old little league coach suggested to our coach that I get the game ball after the game. The two coaches agreed and gave me the ball. I had dominated the same team a few weeks earlier in a error-plagued loss.
One little tidbit from my baseball career - I had to get a lot of strikeouts every time out. If anybody hit the ball, I was in trouble - as was indicated by my win-loss record. I didn't know how to calculate my Earned Run Average (ERA) in those days, but I suspect it was very low. I don't think there was a game in which we failed to have an error in the 3 years I pitched. It's a pretty sad thing when a pitcher can't count on the players around him to make plays, as was the case with me and my team mates. To any of those guys that might be reading - if you're offended, you shouldn't be.
The other two balls are from my senior year.
One of those is from an 8-7 victory of our local rival, Mabank HS - at their place, in a game where I hit my first-ever home run in regulation ball. Mabank won our district title that year and went to the playoffs. Our team was the last to beat them in regular-season play (they were eliminated in the first round anyway). I had 12 strikeouts in 7 innings in that game. I had to convince the coach to let me pitch that game. I had pitched in a losing cause just days before and it wasn't my turn in the rotation. I just felt like we would win and begged him to let me go. After I got mobbed by my teammates when I walked off the mound at the end of the game, coach gave me a hug and told me I had proved him wrong. That was a great day.
The other is from my last HS game. It was against Forney HS on May 18, 1987 (19 years ago yesterday) at our home field. We played them just 3 weeks before this game and and I carried a no-hitter into the 4th or 5th inning before the errors took over. We also got into a full two-team scuffle after the game's last pitch and, on the way off campus, the other team threw rocks at our bus. When they showed up at our place, people were everywhere hoping we'd scuffle again. In the end, there was no need for a scuffle. I had 13 strikeouts that day and beat them 4-1. It would have been a shutout, had it not been for 3 errors that allowed the only runner that I allowed past 2nd base to score that day. The write up in the local newspaper described the performance as being overpowering. Forney also went to the playoffs that year and didn't get past the first round.
I'm writing all this stuff because I reminded myself what sort of gift I had as a teenager. I started pitching during the summer after 6th grade. My dad propped up an old tire against an old shed in our back yard for me to use as a strike zone. I practiced my pitches on that target until the wall behind it fell apart. When I entered high school, I tried out as an outfielder, because I didn't think I could make it as a pitcher. I was later converted to a catcher and made all district that season.
Toward the end of my freshman season, our baseball program began a 26-game losing streak that spanned 3 seasons. Our coach was looking for any and every way to break our skid early on. One day during batting practice, I asked if I could pitch. This coach - a different coach than the one's during my junior and senior season (we went through 3 coaches in 3 years) - didn't believe I could pitch. After batting practice, he scheduled me to pitch during an upcoming tournament. I didn't win in the tournament, but as an underclassman, I impressed both our coach and opposing coaches. For the rest of the season, I split time catching behind the plate and pitching in front of it.
I was selected to all-district and all-county teams throughout my 4-year HS baseball career and participated in 2 professional tryouts. Still, I was not signed to play college ball after high school. It was probably a good thing. The arm was virtually gone by then. Perhaps proper rehab could have helped what ailed me. I don't know. I later walked on at Evangel College in Springfield, MO and made the football team as a place-kicker. I spent two years there before returning to Texas. I grew up a lot during my time at EC. I also thought after I arrived back in Texas that I could make a comeback in baseball. Sadly it wasn't to be.
I say all of this because I remembered - just a few minutes ago - a phone call I received during my senior year of high school. It was from the head coach of the LeTourneau College (now University) wanting to talk baseball. I didn't get it then, but man, do I get it now. The guy was trying to recruit me. He talked about the school, what my future plans were and if I would consider LeTourneau after high school. For whatever reason, that I can't remember now, I turned him down - cold. He even called back again a few weeks later. I turned him down again. I was waiting on another phone call that would not come. Now that I think about it, I can't believe how short-sighted I was.I have no idea how LeTourneau's scholarship system was set up or what they would have been able to offer. What would've happened if I told the coach "yes, I'd like to talk about baseball and LeTourneau"? I guess it really doesn't matter anymore.
There are quite a few times that I've thought how nice it would be to pay a younger version of myself a visit at one of those crucial points in time and tell that goofball to make a different decision - like when Biff goes back in Back to the Future II to tell himself to use the sports history magazine to help him get rich. It probably wouldn't mean I would be rich or would even be playing professional baseball. But I wouldn't be wondering "what if" either.
That 18 year-old version of myself sure was a dumb kid. I should know.
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