When God Showed Up

The title refers to one of my favorite moments from the move, Forrest Gump. Watch the movie again if you can't recall the scene.

I use this to reference the two times in my life when I clearly felt the mighty hand of God actively moving. Not just an open parking space kind of thing that we often thank God for, but a serious life-altering event.

I'll recount the most important here, and the other later.

The most important time of God's direct intervention was meeting my wife.

Now, I know, lots of people may say this, and you could make a case for all spousal encouners being God-ordained, but mine was a bit too-many-coincidences-to-be-coincidental. When I realized what had happened after the fact, I was a bit frightened by the whole thing. When God shows up, it isn't always tame.

It started, for me, about a year earlier. I was driving and thinking (what I do best, it just doesn't pay well), and found myself thinking about a time 3 years earlier when I declined to take a trip to Europe with my best friend, Doug. My reasons were, in retrospect, lame: I couldn't afford it, I would have to quit my job (they'd never give me 3-4 weeks off), and then I really couldn't afford it.

Why were these lame reasons? Because, 3 years later, whatever money I didn't want to spend was gone anyways, and I HATED that job!! It was the most miserable job I have ever had, and desperately wanted to move on.

I missed out on a rare opportunity for miserably short-sighted reasons.

Thinking about this as I drove, I resolved then and there, that the next time adventure presented itself, I would take it, no matter what.

A year goes by.

I am sitting having lunch with a client (Suzie) and a printing company sales rep (Rhonda). Suzie comes up with the idea for her and I to go to Nashville to visit with Rhonda, tour the printing business, and justify the whole thing as improving communication between the graphic designer (me), the client, and the printer.

I couple weeks later, Suzie calls and says the company has OK'd the trip! They are willing to fly us to Nashville to meet with the printer.

Now, I am a freelance designer, not an employee. A part of me thinks this whole thing could be handled with a few phone calls instead of a flight across the country. Why would they want to fly one vendor thousands of miles to meet with another vendor?

BUT.

This is an adventure! They aren't paying be anything but airfare (Rhonda, the sales rep, is putting us up in her house-mansion-while we're back there), so it won't make me money, but I won't be out any either. It's a chance to go someplace I've never been.

Of course, I said yes.

We left on a Thursday (Suzie ended up not even going - another employee [Michelle] came along). Got in to Nashville for dinner. Friday was spent touring the print shop and seeing the city. Friday night, Rhonda had planned for us (me, Rhonda, her husband - Michelle was visiting friends she had back there) to go out to dinner and see a movie. Rhonda also informed be that she had invited a friend of her's to join us. A friend? Scary words to a single man. That phrase is often followed by the dread words: great personality. Whatever - at least I get free food and a movie!

We're about ready to leave, and "friend" shows up. Her name is Annette, and I am immediately attracted to this woman. We talk, and she is amazingly normal! "Friends" who come along on things like this are never attractive and normal!!

Not only do we spend Friday evening together, but Annette joins us for all day Saturday as well.

I leave on Sunday. Back to SoCal.

I realize something was different and special here, and plan to keep in contact with this woman.

Monday. Annette gets a phone call with a job offer from the man who OK'd my trip. Totally unrelated to the trip - he has no idea we even met.

After a few months of haggling with the job thing, and "phone dating", she gets the job and moves out here.

Six months after we met, I propose. She accepts.

Six months after this, we marry.

Eleven years later, and four boys later, life is good.

Let me back up and let you know what happened to Annette that night. She didn't want to come. She was supposed to go to Memphis that weekend. Rhonda begged her to come to help entertain the "Californians". She changed her plans for the sake of her friend.

After we were engaged, Annette told me that within 15 minutes of meeting me, she knew I was the man she would marry. If she had told me at that moment, I would have run for the hills! She wisely kept quiet.

Could you chalk this up to coincidence? Sure, if you wanted to.
But I lived it, and there were too many things that had to fall into place at just the right moment. For Annette and me, God's hand was clearly guiding and directing things.

One last thing: I had always told people, and myself, that it would take a bolt of lighting for me to know who the right woman for me was. On Friday night, after the movie, Annette and I sat on the front steps of Rhonda's house, and talked for hours as we watched a storm move across southern Kentucky. It was too far away for sound to carry, so we just watched as lightning bolts flashed silently.

I'm Still Here

I will be posting something else pretty soon.
Right now, I'm still pondering something that happend at church this past weekend.
As part of the service, we honored a young man, Abraham Simpson, who was related to members of our congregation. He was killed in Falujah.

I don't know how to put this quite right, but seeing the uniform of this young man hanging empty up front made me very angry.

Angry with politicians who value power, intrigue and their petty little feifdoms more than lives.

The democrats are doing it now, and it needs to stop.

Don't kid yourselves. They oppose the war because George Bush is in charge. Some slimy republicans did it when Bill Clinton was in charge, but not as many in the mainstream of the party. This group of democrats seem to have lost sight of some essentials.

1) Every power play to undermine the war on terror gets someone killed. One of the good guys. Shame on you.
2) If the U.S. is united, no opposition can survive before us. Our enemies will melt. You know it, and they know it.
3) Every power play to cause disunity in the U.S. gets someone killed. One of the good guys. Shame on you.

I am an obscure guy with an obscure blog that no democrat in the federal government should ever have reason to read. I don't usually deal in the political here - I feel me usefulness on the web is in other directions. So, if you are reading this, consider very carefully how it came to your attention.

Could the mighty hand of providence be at work?

Abraham Simpson is dead.

He died so that I could light sparklers with my kids, and not fear tomorrow.

He is a hero.

There are democrats who could be heros too, but it might cost them their political lives.

What a small price to pay if it saves just one Abraham Simpson.

Trust

I was just reading something on another blog, and it mentioned Trust - meaning, trust in God.

This has been a big issue in my life. I actuall made a sign that said "trust...", and put it on the dashboard of my car. I meant it as a reminder to trust God, passengers thought I was telling them to trust me as I careened down the highway.

What does trusting God look like?

I suppose it depends on your view of how active God is in your life.

If God is intimately and actively involved in your life, then trusting Him can take on a kind of wild, adventurous tone. Why not pack up and move to Mongolia? God can protect me there, just like He does here, right? You get the idea.

If God is more distant, trusting Him becomes a safer, more sober undertaking. God has proivided you with certain talents and abilities, so use them wisely and not throw them away for the sake of a risky jaunt to Mongolia. You'll lose your job, for sure. God expects you to be careful. Don't foolishly test Him.

Where do I fall? I think like #1, and act like #2.

Makes me kind of lukewarm, doesn't it?
So, should I be Hot (#1), or Cold (#2)?

Let me know what you think, and why. It would be facinating to me to read what your opinions are on this.

Thanks!

Summer is Busy! and a Big Secret

Oddly enough, this past week has been awfully busy! No time to post much, so I didn't post anything.

I hope to post more this week, but I'd like to start off by letting you all in on my most embarrasing secret.

I have the cushiest job in the world.

Yes, I have to work.
No, I don't make millions - not even six-figures.

But.

I am a tenured college professor at a community college (hence the moniker, Professor Steve).
I work two 16-week semesters, thus I work 32 weeks a year.
This means I have 20 weeks off a year.

I am not kidding.

During the weeks I do work, I work 2 full days, and two half days.
This comes out to roughly 24-30 hours a week.

I am not kidding.

I used to work in the professional world, so I know how hard most people work. That's why I am embarrased by all this time off.
I will not get monetarily rich teaching college, but I reap benefits that money will never buy.
I am home with my boys - alot. I get to talk to them, play with them, be with them. The only way to get quality time, is to have quantity time. I am there for them. Priceless.

I am home with my wife. We interact constantly. We long for more, but that will come as the kids get older.

I get to help with the kids' schooling (homeschool). We get to go on field trips all over.

Now, on the teaching end of things, I teach what I practiced for 15 years, and still do for a few clients. I get to be practical, bottom line, vocational in my approach, which suits me perfectly.

I get to interact with a wide swath of humanity, and try and be a living example of what a Christian looks like, acts like, smells like, etc. It's easy to stand out if you try and treat people as Jesus would.

I am free of the status-seeking ego race of higher education (4-year schools), where reputation, grants, status, theoretical work, etc. rule the roost. A community college is all about teaching people, not puffing yourself up. What a breath of fresh air it is.

I am so incredibly grateful for this job. I don't deserve it. I see it as a priviledge and a responsibility, not to be squandered.

More on some serious aspects of teaching later.

For now: Gratitude Index: 10

Fathers' Day

As I've mentioned before, I am the father of four young boys, ages 7, 5, 3 and 5 months (I don't seem to posess any X chromosomes, alas), and on this Fathers' Day, I started thinking about my role as a father, and any highlights of my tenure as such.

First off, I must lead with the admission that I am a mistake-prone father. I blow it often. Now, not in big, spectacular ways like forgetting a child at the supermarket, or legitimately abusive stuff, but in fallen, everyday-type ways. The overly harsh tone, the disinterested response to an excited story, etc. It breaks my heart to think of all the times I have let my sinful short-sightedness rule my actions with my kids.

But.

In light of this, or in spite of this, I think there are two things I have done pretty well, and I hope and pray that these are things that will last, and echo throughout the lives of my children.

First, I tell them constantly (more than a few times a day) that I love them, and as often as seems appropriate (during a time of crisis or correction) that I love them, and will always love them, no matter what, for ever and ever.

Second, I tell them often (too often, but only because it is necessary) that I was wrong, and I am sorry.

Why I see these two things as so important probably says as much about me and my own needs as anything. First, I want my boys to live their lives in absolute confidence that they are loved my their father. I want there to be no doubt whatsoever that their father has lavished upon them extravigant love (not stuff or things), and that this is absolutely theirs throughout eternity.

It has been pointed out to me, and I see it in the lives of so many, that the image we have of our Heavenly Father is directly related to our relationship to our earthly father. In other words, I am the flesh and blood template that my children use to form their concept of God.

No pressure there.

So, just as Jesus used the parable of the prodigal son to give us an image of a father that loves their children through everything, and is waiting for the opportunity to shower that love upon them, I want my kids to see that in their dad.

What is dad? Dad is love. Dad is also correction, discipline, fun, goofy, and more, but first and foremost, dad is love.

Second, I have read and heard from numerous sources, as well as seen it in the lives of me and my wife, that very few things drive a wedge between a parent and child like unresolved conflict and unforgiveness.

How many of you, even to this day, can recall an incident from your childhood (probably more that one) that make you wish for, long for words of apology and reconciliation?

My kids are well aware that their parents goof up all too often. But, we desperately try to be quick to admit our mistakes, apologize and ask for forgiveness from our kids.

I tell you all, there is nothing better - and I do mean nothing better (some equal, but not better) - than having little arms wrapped around you, and hearing "I love you, daddy, I forgive you." All is well. Intimacy has been restored.

It is never too late to start. Words of apology and reconciliation would be a stream of living water in the souls of far too many adults.

I love you, forever and always.
I am sorry, I was wrong. Please forgive me.

This is a key legacy I want to leave with my boys.

Gratitude Index

For today: 8
It's been a good day. Kids mostly sweet. I just finished a game of Nanosaur (computer game that comes with a Mac: shoot the bad dinos, save the good dino eggs) with my oldest (7 yrs), and to see the joy of a child - who hasn't been slimed with all the truly vile games out there - sitting in my lap while we play this game together...it very seldom gets better than that.

[Yes, I know it may sound like a contradiction to slam some computer games while shooting dinosaurs in another. All I can say is, go to a gaming store (or call them), ask one of the kids working there if Nanosaur is too violent and intense, and be prepared for the snickers. It is VERY lightweight as these things go. I refuse to play 99% of computer games - I don't want to get sucked in to that world - short of something with Barney, this is as tame as it gets. Also, boys are hard-wired to want to shoot things, hit things, break things, dig up things, etc. If my son wasn't shooting dinos, he'd be firing a laser blaster at a brother or two.]

I want to talk about the healing aspect of my last post, and how it ties in with gratitude.

The last post seemed kind of like a set-up or trick. I didn't mean it to be. I thought I was going to write about the frustration of knowing you're broken, wanting to be fixed, and then not getting immediate fixing by the Great Fixer. Believe me, I do feel this. Often. But it was interesting to see how the post shifted as I wrote (no notes or outlines for this BlogBoy). I am extremely good at being self-centered, and becoming whiny and self-absorbed about my problems (not the least of them being my whiny and self-absorbed ways) struck me as a luxury. A testimony to how few real, life and death problems I face.

Back in 1988 I got a call from my Dad. Mom has cancer - spread throughout her body. That is a real problem. Kind of burns away the other stuff quickly.

How does this tie in with gratitude? If I can look at my life now, and focus on what is right, what is beautiful, what is good, I think I am halfway to healing on the other stuff. Example: which is going to be more conducive to a good conversation with my wife - looking at her with gratitude that she chose me, loves me, and is committed to me, or looking at her with dissatisfaction that she still has lots of the faults that were there when we married? Good conversations with spouses foster intimacy. Intimacy nurtures love. Love hopes all things, believes all things, endures all things. I become other-centered, instead of self-centered. If my physical and emotional energies are focused on serving another, I don't spend that energy on myself, nurturing self-absorbtion and dysfunction. Conversely, my wife is doing the same. I get what I long for from her, she gets what she longs for from me. Life is good.

Reality check: this is not easy. I am lousy at this most of the time. But, if I can nurture gratitude, I will foster intimacy, which will lead to serving instead of taking. And I am walking the path of real healing a little bit each day, and the fact that healing takes so danged long matters less and less.

My gratitude index just ticked up to 9.

Why is healing so hard?

My wife and I are damaged goods.

We both have faults that could be listed long and often.

We are both painfully aware of when and how we let down each other, and what we should be doing/saying/feeling, but don't.

Also, we are desperately in love with each other. We are committed to serving each other, and sacrificing for each other.

All this most certainly applies to our relationships with our kids as well.

And, most importantly, we are absolutely committed to serving our Lord - following Jesus.

Now, with this as a backdrop, I have these questions: Why aren't we fixed? Why are we still struggling with issues that have been there from the start? Why doesn't God just reach down and fix us, heal us, make us who we know we could be, and want to be?

Here are a couple possible answers we've come up with:
1) God doesn't care. He could do it, but won't. His reasoning doesn't make sense, and it should.
2) God does care, but His reasoning will only fully make sense looking back from a distance, not in the present, and not trying to look ahead.
3) God doesn't work that way. We are outside His control on these kind of things.

I don't buy #3. The bible is too full of His intervention to accept this explanation.
I don't like #1. And, it seems inconsistent with the God of the bible, just like #3.
#2 makes the most sense. It seems most consistent with the God of the bible, and gives me hope.

But.

It does not take away the pain of being damaged here and now. No more character building, please, I'm full.

And.

It shows the level of luxury we live in, that issues of survival are so far off, issues of external peril are so removed, that an average guy with a pretty average job can ponder these things.

What's the missing ingredient in just about everything mentioned above?

Gratefulness.

What a blessing this life is! What incredible graces have been bestowed upon us, that we can be called children of God? Yes, life can be hard. Yes, tragedy touches us all. But yes, we are loved immeasurably. And yes, each day is full of new blessings, new graces, new chances for gratefulness.

Here's my goal for the next week: to end my day with gratefulness, and begin my day with gratefulness.

And in-between? Aye, that's the rub.

I'll give a daily report on this. Let's see how I do.

Disneyland, part II

A couple more quick takes on things at the Magic Kingdom.

First, I would be horribly, bitterly, visciously miffed if I had bought single-day tickets.

We were there for four hours in the mid-day to early afternoon, and went on two rides: Dumbo (I know, I've already thought it too), and a Winnie the Pooh ride. The rest of the time was spent going from one side of the park to the other, standing in lines, and trying to find relief from the heat, sun and throngs. We left to go home and recoup for a few hours, then went back in the evening, with was vastly better - until the parade and fireworks, whose main purpose seems to be to make it even more difficult to get from one side of the place to the other, and then to funnel all available bodies onto Main Street, so walking with a stoller is guaranteed to run over toes.

The only thing that kept us a bit upbeat was the knowledge that we could come back all year - especially in the off season, when life is relaxed at the Diz. We could learn the ins and outs, and get the good stuff down pat.

How awful would it be, to be standing in a line for 90 minutes, thinking "we get on an airplane tomorrow morning, and THIS is how I spend my last day of vacation?"

Bottom line: Disneyland is the ultimate contrast. Fodder for rants and screeds and who knows what else that cry out against the crowds, the lines, the food, etc. It is also - at the same time - the source of innumerable precious memories that my kids will hold on to, just as I do from the times when I was a little kid, and we went to Disneyland.

So, which side wins? Did I have a rotten time, or dear moment?

It all depends on who's eyes we look thorough.

I'm goin' to Disneyland?

My wife's family lives in the Southeast.
My best friend lives in the Northwest.
I'm a teacher - big, fat summer vacations.

We drive a lot.

The past three years have seen us piling the clan into the van, and driving multi-thousands of miles, gone from home for multi-weeks.

Not this year.

This year, we decided to stay home. Ahhhhhhh...
I love to drive, and love to travel, but I needed a break from it, so it wouldn't loose it's joy factor.

So, this year we decided to buy Disney Annual Passes instead, and go to the park a bunch. With four boys, three of which are old enough to enjoy the place, it seemed like a good idea. It still does, but today made it tough.

I was our first full-day trip to the park, and it was everything we locals know to expect, but forget about if we've been away for a while:
1) Hot. Hazy. Smog. SoCal weather at its' worst.
2) CROWDED! The wait for some rides was over 90 minutes! Oh yeah, that'll go over real well with the 3 year old.
3) This was the kicker, the thing that sent wifey and I over the edge.
$10.90 for two fries and two sodas.
I am not kidding.
Oh, and it took me over 30 minutes to get them.

Lessons learned? More on that tomorrow. Right now, I'm still shaking and sputtering from "lunch".

For the sake of Rosemary

A year or so ago, I had a student, Rosemary (not real name), who did something that left me flatfooted, and not knowing how to respond. I want to put out some of my thoughts, and see if you all can give me feedback to more fully respond to her.

Rosemary came to my class, and it became apparent that she was a Christian. A bit reluctant to talk much about it, and a slightly older (mid-20s) returning student, but within the mainstream of a young Southern California committed Christian.

She came to me towards the end of the semester with a serious family matter that meant that she could not complete all the projects for the class, and wanted to see how we could work things out. In the midst of this meeting, I asked her how I could be praying for her, and she let me know that she was walking away from Christianity. Well now. We talked a bit about things, but then later, through emails, I asked her why she left the faith, and her response stunned me into nonresponse.

She said that she knew Christianity was true, but life was easier, and she was happier not being a Christian.

I didn't know how to respond, because I was all ready to be Mr. Apologetics! Defender of the Faith! and this was not an issue of Truth, but of Heart. I am of the last full generation of modernists, where truth is acknowledged as absolute, and arguments of faith center around logical merits, and objective truth. This was all about personal perception, and I was left unprepared.

I have pondered this off and on for over a year now, and here is what I would now like to say to Rosemary (if it isn't too late):
I am sorry for what you have experienced, and what the church has burdened you with. You have been given a hard yoke, and a heavy burden, when Jesus has promised us just the opposite: "My yoke is easy, and My burden light" (Matthew 11:30)
I say this because how could the news that God loves you dearly, has forgiven you - for everything - and wants to spend eternity with you - even if no one else shows up - how could that be hard? How could that make you sad?
It doesn't, of course.
What does is what the rest of us dump on each other in our efforts to "train up" fellow believers. The freedom of the Gospel was, and always will be scandalous. How dare we not earn our salvation, right?
It all comes down to a bunch of "yes, but" things: Forgiven? Yes, but now you have to do ________ if you're really serious about this. You fill in the blank. I'm sure we could all make a good case for whatever we would put in there, but the bottom line for me always comes back to the yoke. Is it easy? Is the burden light? If not, something is wrong.
I really believe this, and let me give an extreme example to prove the rule.
Did Mother Teresa think her yoke was hard? Her burden heavy?
No. Go read "Something Beautiful for God" to find out for yourself.
Would I find it hard? Absolutely. I'm a wuss.
The point is, God chose, and equipped her for that work, and with the Holy Spirit empowering her, it was all joy.
God chooses each of us for different works, different tasks, different gifts (I think I read somewhere about a toe not being an eye, etc....).
So, Rosemary, if you can still remember the times when you felt God's love, God's forgiveness, and God's power, know that it's still there for you. Tell the burdeners and yokers to go lift themselves, and leave you alone.
I leave you with one last image. Go and read the story of the prodigal son (Luke 15: 11-32). The key thing: the father (God) rushes out to meet and re-accept the son (us) before the son can do anything to earn it, just turning back his heart was enough.

God is so much more lavishingly loving and forgiving than we are.

Shame on us.

Speaking of pain...

First off, I am not a big pain person, and plan on this being my last pain-related posting for the foreseeable future. I'm starting to get worried that God is trying to get me ready for something that will hurt! =]

The comments by Tracey for the last post reminded me of some additional thoughts on the whole subject.
She commented on the need for God's grace and strength, and that got me thinking about how often God uses pain, difficulty, adversity, etc. to work on us: get our attention, further refine us, build character.

In the midst of going through something crummy, I have often thought: God, please no more - I have enough character for now, really.

And that reminded me of my reaction after watching the movie Amadeus (way back when it was in theaters!). I was struck with an overwhealming thought as I walked out of the theater: Am I willing to hurt that much, to create something that great?

Creative genius - not just goodness, or even greatness - seems to come all too often in a damaged wrapper. We can probably all think of someone who fits the description, Van Gogh? Brian Wilson? You fill in your own choice.

My career has been in the arts, and I have played it very safe. I have never thrown myself with wild, self-desructive abandon into anything. My work is good, but not close to genius.

Am I willing to pay the price? Am I wlling to hurt enough to achieve greatness?

Not yet.

A bit more on migraines

Just wanted to post a bit more on the heart of the issue with me and my headaches.

The issue is: Are they worth it?

Is a life of hot and cold better than unnoticable sameness?

As I sit here and write, I feel fine. No pain, not much of anything. The room is comfortable, my body is not creaking and groaning, I'm fine.

But...

I'm not feeling that deliciousness that I do when the headaches leave - and I miss it.

If I could take a pill that would completely irradicate all future migraines - and consequently irradicate all future "deliciousness moments" - would I do it?

Absolutely.

And that saddens me a bit. My desire for no pain is greater than my desire for the truly exhiliarating flight of pain. I come face to face with the weakness of the flesh. I, too would be snoozing when my Saviour asks me to stay awake and pray. I, too would be running and denying when the crowd accuses. Am I willing to suffer for Christ? Any suffering I have done is so small as to be almost theoretical versus real. Has it maybe cost me money (lost clients, jobs not taken for questionable compromises, etc.)? Probably, but who knows? Has it cost me relationships? Maybe, but who knows? Has there ever been anything close to life-or-death involved? Not even close.

In America, our vital Christian life dies by degrees of soft, enrapturing comfort. Everything just feels too good to leave it. A little extra work can mean a few extra toys, and a bit more distractions at the end of a long, soft day, and then a nice, soft bed, and then all over again tomorrow, and then...

Where's the crisp, hard focus of a life with meaning? What must I throw away to get there?

There's a great scene in an old Dustin Hoffman movie: The Marathon Man. DH has been tortured to get some information which he doesn't have. The torture is having his front teeth drilled, and the raw, open nerve touched with a live wire. After they are through with him, they give him a bottle of oil that takes away the pain. In the key scene, when he decides to go after the bad guys, and not run away any longer, he throws down the bottle (breaking it) and sucks in a deep breath of air right over the open nerves.

That is life. Clear, hard, crisp, real. No hiding behind the dull anesthesia of distractions.

So, can my migraine pain serve a purpose? Yes.

But.

I have to choose now what to do, when offered the pill.

The blessing of migraines

Am I nuts, or what?

Let me explain, and start with a little background.
I am a pretty even genetic mix of my mom and dad. My outward appearance tends towards mom's side, and the internal workings seem to be more in line with dad. One of the things dad was kind enough to pass on to me was the family legacy of migraine headaches (gee, thanks). Now, let me post an aside here and say that within the world of migraines, I am pretty lucky. Very seldom am I incapacitated - most of the time, my headaches make me miserable, but I stay functional. I am on medication to keep them to a minimum, and thanks to insurance, I have some "magic bullet" pills that zap a headache most of the time (I say thanks to insurance, because the pills cost $175.00 for nine (9) without insurance - yikes!).

Everyonce in a while, one gets through, and I hurt for the day. Up until I started on the meds two years ago, I would get one about once a month.

Now, what do I mean by "the blessing of migraines"?
This: When a headache finally leaves (usually - for me - as evening comes, or for sure by the next morning), it is a feeling I can only describe as delicious. To feel the pain that has been scraping at you all day suddenly just evaporate, or wake to find the pain is now only a memory, is such an incredibly pleasurable experience, delicious is the only word that seems to fit. I can feel my whole body release and relax. Air, light, sounds - all seem fresh and new. Energy returns to my muscles. Hope to my heart.

I only realize this through comparison, ie: compared to the misery I was in, this feels GREAT!!!
Here's the catch: I only feel this way after a migraine. Without the pain preceeding it, the pleasure is lost.

So, are migraines worth it?

I would answer "maybe". If I was still getting monthly headaches, and they were becoming more and more incapacitating, I would say "no". But, as it stands now, a migraine every now and then reminds me anew of the glorious deliciousness of not hurting.

Broaden the context, and you can see how it applies to us all - that this is the way this life is set up. We only experience things as a contrast of something else: hot vs. cold, humid vs. dry, peaceful vs. tumultuous, etc.

God has given us a world of contrasts, a body of contrasts, a soul of contrasts.

So, I can thank God for my migraines, as an opportunity lean upon Him in the midst of the pain, and as an opportunity to discover anew the deliciousness of not hurting.

Is dissatisfaction godly?

I am currently reading a book by Dan Allender, called The Healing Path. Great book! Very good insights, and seemingly well grounded in reality. Anyways, one of the points he is making is that God uses dissatisfaction to get us to move to where/what He wants of us. We humans will stay where it's comfy until we get poked enough to heave ourselves out of comfort, and into adventure.

I hope that's what is going on in my life. I have a great job, live in beautiful So. Cal., live in a great neighborhood, in a house that needs work (built in 1924), but overall is excellent . . . and I ache to get out of here!

The problem is that I am a huge chicken when it comes to this kind of thing. So I'm stuck: I want out, to a quieter, more rural life for my family, but I am also paralyzed by the fear of the unknown. And, I desperately don't want God to "urge" me out! God's urgings in things like this usually involve something that will make a great testimony later down the line ("...I came home one day to find my whole family had been sold on ebay!...")

So, for now, all I know is I want out. My prayers are for wisdom and courage as I walk this path with my family.

More on this later...

It's all about ME!

I got this from the Anchoress, and decided to do it myself.
Please do the same, and link in the comments section!

A is for Age - 44
B is for Booze - Don't like it enough to bother.
C is for Career - Husband, Dadddy and Community College Professor
D is for Dad’s name - Gerry
E is for Essential items to bring to a party - My wife, so I have at least one person to talk to.
F is for Favorite song at the moment - Anything by Bob Bennett (www.bob-bennett.com)
G is for Goof off thing to do - Drive: Far and fast. Or, read: novels. Better yet: both!
H is for Hometown - Whittier, Calif.
I is for Instrument you play - Guitar
J is for Jam or Jelly you like - Pineapple-Apricot
K is for Kids - Four boys (7 and under)
L is for Living arrangement - One story, three bedroom, 1 bath (getting a bit tight on space)
M is for Mom’s name - Marian
N is for Names of best friends - Doug, Jay, Alan, Pat - these are the guys I could call at 3 am, and they would be there for me.
O is for overnight hospital stays - One. I was about 5 years old, and had pneumonia. I also stayed with wifey-poo when our kids were born, but those were her stays, not mine.
P is for Phobias - gooey, slimy animals: If I fell into a pit of sea slugs, I would rather die than live with the memory of doing that.
Q is for Quote you like - "You know what the problem with life is? Boredom! You know what the solution is? ADVENTURE!!" - from the movie Never Cry Wolf
R is for Relationship that lasted longest - My best friend Doug - since high school (1976).
S is for Siblings - Two sisters and one brother
T is for Texas, ever been? - Yes. Even slept on the beach in Galveston once. A long time ago, in a life far, far away...
U is for Unique trait - I am the world's BEST parallel parker...really.
V if for Vegetable you love - What else? Garlic!!
W is for Worst trait - I wait til just past the last minute to do things.
X - is for XRays you’ve had - teeth, head, chest
Y is for Yummy food you make - I married a girl from the South...I don't have to cook!
Z is for Zodiac sign - The only star that has made a lasting impact on me is the one over Bethlehem 2000 years ago.

It's all worth it

I have no idea who reads these postings, but if you do, check out the comments and back-and-forth postings below between myself and AuntieJeanne. This is the reason I'm here.

They'll Know We Are Christians by Our...what?

The semester is almost over.
I teach at a local Community College (a great job I don't deserve - note to self: post in the future on your job, file under "cushy"), and I am often struck by a surprising aspect of my job: as a Christian, it is stunningly easy to be a light in a dark place.

I always thought I would love to teach at a Christian college/university - what better place to live out your faith than surrounded by fellow believers? I did teach for one year at one, and it wasn't a very good fit (more on that later, maybe).
On the heels of that, I got my current job, and have basked in the glorious job that is Community College teaching.

It is a "secular" campus, filled to the brim with "heathens" adorned with piercings, tattoos, and every now and then, some clothes. Lots of international students - mostly from asia. And finally, the campus is crawling with tenured faculty who can't get fired unless they eat one of their students.

What this all adds up to is a place where the sins of pride, arrogance, apathy and the like abound. And, because of this, I have found that if you just treat people with what I would call basic decency, it is often seen as astounding kindness.

Example:
I teach graphic design, and during "critiques" - a public analysis and evaluation of student projects - I will not berate or degrade or belittle a student. I will not at any time intentionally humiliate a student (in public or private).

What I find is that these kinds of "basic decencies" stand out and are noticed. And with some, questions start to be asked: Why is he different? What makes him tick? etc.

Do these students know I am a Christian by my theology? my doctrine? even by my faith? No.

They know I am a Christian by my love.

Where was I?

I did a bad thing.

At least for me, it was bad.

I put a webcounter on this blog, and started caring about, and looking at, how many people were reading this.

Bad move.

No longer was I writing and trusting God to bring eyes that could use what I wrote. Now, I was trying to take controll.

Bad move.

We have a jealous God. He doesn't particularly want to be shoved aside so we can "do it better".

There's lots I still want to say, but it's late, so I will be back in a day or two.

I am back to trusting.

Flower Petals for ZuZu

On my last post, I raised the question of whether you would re-live your life if you could. More specifically, if you could wake up tomorrow, and find yourself 7 years old, but knowing all you know now, would you do it?

I'm sure all the reasons that this is so intriguing to me would require a skilled counselor, but this question/daydream has popped up on a regular basis for much of my adult life. Usually, I spend the time thinking about things I would have done or not done, people I would have spent more time with/less time with, etc. But recently, I was pondering a separate issue that, I think, will put the issue to rest for me.

First off, the strongest reason to want to go back: My mom would still be alive today. Probably.

My mom died of ovarian cancer in 1989, at the age of 61. She was way too young and vital and fun to have died otherwise, and has left a mom-shaped hole in my heart that nothing can fill (nor should it - God doesn't make replaceable people). If I woke up, and was 7 again, I would be spending a significant amount of time convincing my parents that I knew what was going to happen ("trust me, a peanut farmer from Georgia will be president in less than 10 years!"), and that they should find a doctor willing to do a full hysterectomy as soon as possible - I'd reimburse them with the money I would get with some well-placed venture capital to some kids in the bay area ("Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, here's my Dad's life savings. Cut us in for 25%"). A hysterectomy at that age would ensure that cancer had not had time to get out of the ovaries, if it was there yet at all. Given the chance, I'll take my mom back. She never got to hold her grandchildren. Never got to tell my wife what a yummy pumpkin pie she makes. Never got to go all those places she and my dad were going to go once he retired. Too many nevers...

And actually, this leads to the other side of the equation. Could I change only the things I wanted to, or would my life careen too far in other directions to end up here? What got me thinking seriously along this thread was the occasion of the birth of my 4th son in January (no girls. game over. 4 for 4 and done). As I looked at him, and then his brothers, I really thought about them - the unique individuals that they are. How did they get here? (Yes, I know how they got here - had it figured out even before the first was born). I mean, they come from the same gene pool, and yet are vastly different. And then, I started really thinking about the astounding odds involved in each of their existences.

For each child, there were - let us say - multiple attempts at conception, but only one that was successful. With each attempt, millions of unique, individual sperm cells were all rushing to find an egg. When an egg was found, only one sperm cell was allowed in to complete the fertilization process, which would ultimately lead to development and birth. So, each of my boys is literally one in a multi-million, and precious beyond measure.

Now, here's where it gets tricky. Let us say that I could successfully negotiate my "life-over" to get me to the point of marriage to my darling wife. What are my chances of getting the same 4 sperm cells to fertilize the same 4 eggs? Beyond impossible. I know that the children of this do-over would be precious, wonderful, special, etc. I would love them fiercely and dearly. But. They wouldn't be my boys that I have now, and remember, part of the deal here is that I know the life I had lived, and was able to alter it so my mom didn't die of ovarian cancer, so I would know of and remember those guys.

Even sitting here and writing those words fills me with an ache in my chest. I could never - will never - turn my back on my precious children, sacrificing them on the altar of selfishness.

On the day that my Lord call me to my true home, my mom will be there, welcoming. She will have been waiting longer than she would have wanted, but after a couple thousand years of holding my hand, she'll get over it (We can talk about the nuts and bolts of Heaven sometime later).

Let me end with a word-picture of our lives: You're driving down a road in the fog, and drive over a wooden bridge. Immediately, the fog lifts, and you stop and look back. The bridge you just drove over is made entirely of toothpicks placed in an interlocking pattern that will collapse if even one is removed. There is only One who is skilled enough to put this bridge together: any attempt to improve upon the design will ultimately result in collapse.

George Bailey never knew how much he would miss ZuZu's flower petals, until they were gone.

Sorry for the lapse in posting

No real good excuses why I haven't been posting.
I thing my last posts threw me - I had a thought that sounded good in my head, but when I wrote it down, it started sounding more and more like I was a knuckle-dragging jerk.

Oh well.

My knuckles don't drag.

I have a post coming up next (too late to write it all now) about the following:
If you could wake up tomorrow, and be 7 years old, with your whole life to re-live, would you do it?
Why or why not?

Any comments would be coveted. I think I know what I would do, but the dilemma is significant. I'll explain next post.