String

My mother used to kind heartedly chastise me about not writing more often (way before the days of email). We always agreed that I would...but I used to make it such a BIG deal...had to write a book or I didn't feel it was worth anything.

That's part of my problem with blogging...have to write a book or it's not worth anything.

Not true...my Grandma wrote to me in college every week: one page. Just to say she loved me...(and to send me money).

One page. I have great ideas...Really great...I promise...but for now, just to prove I'm still here:

I opened my coat pocket just now to pull out a tissue and saw my piece of gold string. Well, it's not really my gold string...I have it there for Dora.

What does she need with gold string? Well, she might be bored one day and I could pull it out and relieve her boredom by showing her the string.

That's why it was put there 6 years ago. She was 4.

Every year around this time (when it gets cold) I pull out my coat and, there it is. Never been used for its magic purpose. I should probably throw it away.

However, 30 minutes ago, when I saw it again, I thought of her...and remembered me.

Most self-respecting boys of 5 and older know that you can't leave the house without some string, a rubber band or two, a rock and a toy car. My pockets were always full when I left the house. I remember thinking that the string would be useful if I got lost, or stumbled into an adventure which required string.

And here I am. I finally found my adventure which might require string...her name is Dora.

I think I'll just hang on to it.

Evidence of The Gift

Sorry I have been away loyal readers. Several things have happened which have pulled my attention away from blogging. For posterity sake, a quick sample:



We who practice here in Big Spring moved our offices. We moved into offices which are far superior, but it has taken a full two weeks to feel like I have a handle on everything that was moved.



Along those lines:

I fell backwards into an awesome office space (that picture is not it but): huge, private bathroom, two walk-in closets, a main office and an outer office. This was made much sweeter as I have been "officing" from home for the college as the building housing me is being ripped apart for a year or so. Either way...I feel like Patrick Stewart when he first started filming STTNG. He once said in an interview that he thought it was too good to be true, that he would be replaced any day, "I didn't unpack for weeks."

So, that's "all good."

But then I got sick. As I type this I can't speak above a whisper. I don't feel as bad as I did...but, well, I TALK for a living!

Yesterday morning, little one asked why I have to go to work when I am sick. We talked about it and she was excited to know that, when her college prof. is sick, she will get to get out of class. I also let her know that if I was REALLY sick, I would stay home.

So last night I'm sitting on the couch (after eating the excellent food my wife cooked...big deal, she doesn't like cooking) watching the news. Little one is off doing something somewhere and then runs in with a sign which says "This Way -->" I follow and...well...I was blessed. Her favorite stuffed animals were holding signs which said "Get Well!" She had two back rubbing tools available for my choosing and a stack of children's books to read to me.

So for the next 20 minutes she read out loud while rolling a wooden wheeled device up and down my back.

Yup. Sometimes things just go really, really well. I am thankful for those moments of joy and know they have and will make up for other moments of crud.

I wish you all the same: many moments of joy. The stories I read on your blogs are inspiring and humbling.

THE Gift

My wife always says that I think too much. That if I would just accept things at face value, I wouldn't have these long periods of time when I am agnostic. I know everyone experiences times of doubt and skepticism...I would just like to have them less often. And when I have them, I would love to find the evidence lean in favor of my belief in God.

But much of the time, I look and see more to dissuade me from my faith than to validate it.


Like...why do I have to keep praying for faith...and then feel that I have it, only to lose it again. How about just giving me a lifetime measure of faith which is always there...always secure? Going back and forth from "Yeah, I love God!" to feeling Freud may have been right, that I am just another neurotic soul who has bought into a mass delusion. Am I so afraid, so discontent with my life that I have to delude myself that there will be an afterlife where I get to do all the things that I don't get to do here on earth?

{Example: After hearing of a friend's lavish vacation, made possible by his impressive six figure salary I thought: "Heaven better be pretty impressive because down here, I'm missing out on some great stuff."}

So then, of course, I remember that my 5 figure salary is a king's ransom to 85% of the rest of the inhabitants of this earth. Boy, I bet they REALLY look forward to heaven. But wait, a huge percentage of them don't believe in Christ and thus...for all their suffering here, they are going to hell.Christian's can be really sick and self-serving. In fact, most Christians I know are just as sick and self-serving as non-Christan's...but just convinced that they are not.


The problem is, my faith is in something that doesn't really explain God.


A most unfortunate thing has happened to the Christian faith. Christianity has become just a way to get through the day, to feel better about being bad, and to reassure us at the end that we haven't really lost our loved ones...we'll see them again. It's comforting to imagine that someone really is in control of all of this mess, that we will be rewarded as long as we believe the right things.

So. The faithful have come to, at the deepest core belief level, expect Christianity to serve us. When it doesn't (or doesn't seem too), we blame it for our problems. "What can you do for me God?"



I have my faith on backwards.


We weren't created to be served...we were created to serve. Whether we like it or understand it or accept it, God created us to glorify Himself. We are the sculptures, He is the artist.

The sculpture doesn't get to ask for things from the sculptor. It just stands there and looks pretty. People look at it and say "Oh my! That is so incredibly beautiful and amazing...that sculptor is incredible! What talent!"


Of course the sculptor takes VERY good care of his works of art...makes sure they have what they need. But it is the sculptor who decides what each work of art needs. The sculpture is just a stupid piece of rock...it can't possibly understand what it needs. If it could come to life and ask the artist, why am I here? The answer would always be: "Because I made you."


"Yeah...but what is my purpose?"


"To reflect my skill. To glorify me."


"That's it?"


"Well, I guess I could hang clothes on you..."


Being a Christian means that the bottom line is, I must accept that my very existence is a gift from the Creator. As such, I'm just here to look pretty. I'm here to serve. I am a mirror to reflect HIS glory, HIS wisdom, HIS power.


I am here to proclaim that GOD IS.


The fact that something went wrong in the museum and a few of the sculptures are lost means that my purpose is also to help find them. To restore them for the ARTIST'S glory.


That is why Christian's thank God for the rain, the sun, their jobs, their spouses, and especially their children. For an artist to provide His work of art with JOY...now THAT's an impressive piece of workmanship.


"For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." Ephesians 2:10


Thank you God.

Some Really Good News

So, we go to our mandatory meeting with little one's fourth grade teacher. Right in the middle of my day...not really looking forward to it because I have nothing to say...no big problems. She doesn't really LIKE school...but she excels at it.

Beyond her Mommy's and my wildest dreams, little one is a natural in school. She makes straight A's with ease. She earns frequent honors for reading, singing, acting, drawing, etc. You know, the things I wish I had been for my parents, she is for me (not fair really...for my parents).

So we get in there, and the teacher who seemed so gruff and distant to little one at the beginning of the year started gushing.

Now, I've blown my share of smoke in my day. You know, gotta paint kids in the best light for parents. But this teacher knew we already knew our daughter. She gave us real feedback about her strengths beyond her natural intellectual gifts.

I learned that Dora is a nurturer...helping her friends when they fall behind. I learned that she is practical, ready with plenty of questions. I learned that she is a little "less mature" than her peers. (Thank God...literally. She'll have plenty of time to be "mature" when she gets older.)

Above all, I learned that, though I know I have a great kid...that other people think so too.

I'd like to take credit (and secretly, let's face it, I do). But what I know is that Dora's mother and I have been blessed with a beautiful, precious, fragile, wonderful gift when what we really "deserved" was nothing.

Thanks God.

It's All About Me!

You'd be surprised how many good pictures come up when you google "selfish."

My last blog led me to contemplate (again) my ongoing malady of selfishness. That led me to a realization that maybe I could use this blog as a way to explore means of becoming less selfish. Then I realized that might mean I would have to change something about my life and thought better of it.

I don't want to change.

Edit that...I want to change, but it usually includes ways I can spend more time or money on the things that I want to do.

"It is not because the truth is too difficult to see that we make mistakes...we make mistakes because the easiest and most comfortable course for us is to seek insight where it accords with our emotions -- especially selfish ones." Alexander Solzhenitsyn (author) (Who knew Russians were so smart (no offence to any of my Russian readers.))

I guess that sort of suggests that, not only am I selfish, but my reason for contemplating my own selfishness is actually selfish as well.

Yeah. I would feel better about myself if I wasn't so selfish. Then I could look in the mirror and say, "You son-of-a-gun! Look at you all unselfish and giving. You are one good....great guy!"

“Selfishness must be discovered and understood before it can be removed. It is powerless to remove itself, neither will it pass away of itself. Darkness ceases only when light is introduced; so ignorance can only be dispersed by Knowledge; selfishness by Love." James Allan (statesman)

Ah, but it is love which creates selfishness in the first place. I'm full of it (love, that is). It's just mostly focused on me. (Besides, I don't even like people. They get in the way of my "me" time.)

Perhaps I should just drop this idea of becoming less selfish. I took an online quiz that said I was only 46% selfish.

(Look at me, all 54% unselfish and giving and stuff!)

Today

Today I will think on good things.

Today I won't trouble myself with angry thoughts

or regrets

or fears

or what ifs.

Today I will live as if this day is important...and not a burden.

I'll be optimistic today.

I'll be honest with myself about myself, and others.

I'll do the best that I can do today.

Today I'll be worthy of the AWE with which my child views me.

Today I'll work to recover the AWE within myself.

Today I will prepare myself for tomorrow.

Tomorrow, I'll forget about me...and love someone else.

4th Grade Blues...

The school season for our family is off to an interesting start this year. Little one is now in 4th grade but is not so sure she is happy about that. In fact, she is pretty sure she hates school and almost everything about it, from getting up early in the morning to P.E.

Of course I would feel better about sending her if she bounced out of bed in the morning, anxious to get on the road. I have to realize that I myself do not bounce out of bed in the morning anxious to get to work…never have been one of those people. I’m not really sure I know of a job which would get me to bounce out of bed ready to go…maybe if I was on the ski patrol at a ski resort. (I love to snow ski!)

So, I have to admit that, probably my daughter’s vocal protesting is, in part, a direct result of my own. Hey, what they see us do they imagine they have implicit permission to do themselves.
I know there are other factors at play. I know her 4th grade teacher is in it for the students to learn and really doesn’t seem to care if they like her or not. I would be a different kind of teacher, overly concerned that every student liked me. But it is foolish to think that we are all motivated in that direction. Some are in this for power, some for accomplishment, some for a paycheck, some for love.

I think it’s good that Little One has finally met a teacher who just wants her to be a student. It’s ok for her not to immediately have an adult wrapped around her little finger. It will build character.

Of course we all know that this teacher would not have been my first choice. I’m afraid, given the choice between a teacher who is there to teach and one who makes it her business to “love” each of the kids in her class…I would have opted for the latter. Good thing we didn’t request teachers this year. We left it up to prayer…or to the person in the office who randomly assigned students to the class.

Prayer still covers it though. God knows what class Little One is in. And He knows her needs for love. And He is ultimately better at providing that for her than any teacher, or ever her Daddy will ever be.

So, until Little One is cursed at, punished unfairly, or bullied, Daddy will just sit back, watching her suffer, listening to her “I hate school” blues, feeling my heart be sucked out of my chest as she makes the slow “death march” from my car to the school entrance every morning, reminding myself that...what doesn't kill her, builds her character.

Character building sucks.