A Prayer For the People

It truly is amazing how many things I take for granted. When I went to Virginia back in 1995 with my uhaul and big ideas, I went with a lot of ignorance. You see, I was going to Virginia when they had been predicting that Hurricane Felix or Humberto…or Tropical Storm Gabrielle…one of those would hit in Virginia Beach. I took it in stride though. Having never realized the magnitude of a hurricane I quietly got out my Masking tape and put two big ‘X’s’ on the windows to keep them from shattering. Yes…masking tape against 139mph winds. That’ll hold. I even went to the market to get some supplies. Rows and Rows of where water and canned goods once stood were, at this point, completely empty. So, scrounged for some large containers of water, some canned beans, chili and chef boyRdee products. I found a flashlight and some batteries and considered myself prepared. I was ready for Mother Nature.

What I didn’t realize back then was just how treacherous nature could be. I was spared that fateful August, because the storm never hit us. So, I was stuck with all these canned goods and masking tape on my windows. I do, however, still have that very same flashlight. I keep it as a reminder of what ignorance will buy me - a cheap plastic flashlight.

Even when in Houston during Tropical Storm Allison, I had no Idea that this constant pouring of Rain would lead to the destruction that it did. Again, ignorant. Now, looking at these poor people, I am struck again by the shear magnitude of the power God unleashed in this world. I wish it wouldn’t have happened and I pray against those things. My heart goes out for those few who were like me - those who didn’t see it coming. I pray that God found mercy and spared them. I pray that He brings this country together for a quick and meaningful restoration. I pray that Christians will act in the face of such blatant opportunity. I pray that I will be compassionate and responsible with my fortune and help those who are stuck, some completely alone, in a strange place with little food and nothing but a cheap plastic flashlight.

It's Still Rock and Roll to Me

I was thinking about my days in 6th through 9th grade. I was really a bit neurotic because of what I was taught about certain things. Rock and roll being one of those ‘hot button’ issues. I was told that Rock music was evil and straight from the devil. (Whether it was the beat or the lyrics I don’t know.) Of course being a ‘younger than the rest of my classmates’ kind of a guy I wasn’t really informed on what ‘rock music’ really was.

One particular day as I was at baseball practice standing in the outfield I’ve got that Darrel Hall and John Oates song “Kiss is on my list” going on in my head. Over and over it played. I tried my best to get it out of my head because of the guilt I was feeling for even thinking of such evil. But as I practiced and the words came out of my mouth, “(Because your kiss) Your kiss I can't resist. Because your kiss is what I miss when I turn out the light,” The Guilt…Oh The Guilt! Besides, Darryl Hall and John Oates…not the coolest group in the world.

I do remember one day as I’m riding with my brother to school. He had a friend with him in the front seat…Mike. He was a no-nonsense kind of a guy who found out about my little ‘Rock-n-Roll’ phobia. We’re sitting in my brother’s 67 mustang listening (not by choice) to that evil musician Billy Joel. Mike turned to me, noticing my disdain and sympathy for the two of them, and said, “You don’t like rock and roll huh? Well…you will!” I just brushed him off thinking, who’s this guy to tell me what I will like? I might as well marry Satan.

But later…he was right. I realized that some things aren’t as evil as I was told. I eventually got into some groups, but didn’t really have a group with which I could associate. You know a lot of my friends had their bands that they would promote. I had nothing. So I decided to start looking. That’s when I discovered The Police. Sting’s really cool band that I didn’t really care for all that much, but I liked being able to sound like I was into a band. So, when people would say, hey, what band you like? I’d respond, The Police. Yeah, they’re awesome. And that was that. Of course Now...I really like Sting...but that's a whole different story.

It’s funny how I feel the need to have something with which to associate. I can’t just be myself. I couldn’t just tell everyone that I really did like Hall and Oates. And that Adult Education was one of my favorite song ever. No…I just told them that I liked the Police…even though the only song I knew them to sing was Roxanne…that was them…right?

Moving forward

So, what exactly does it mean to keep on running? In life I mean. Or Moving forward? You really can't help but move forward. If you're still alive, then there's still movement. This is proven fact. I guess it's a figure of speech-you're not dwelling on the past or something similar.

Why is it so important that we move forward? Why is it that we have to be moving at all? To be honest, sometimes I need a little rest. I push myself really hard to make sure that I have projects and things going on at any given moment so that I can have some sort of reference point for accomplishment. My whole life is an attempt to be like Jesus, and to be honest, he really didn't look as if he was moving forward. ( In the broadest sense of the word.) He kinda looked casual about it all. The only time I really sensed him feeling hardpressed was toward the end, when he was telling his friends about what was going to happen to him and they just weren't getting it...after three years of conversation! I wonder if he thought, "well, I've just gotta keep moving forward." I'm not sure.

I once heard that Sharks don't sleep. They rest, but are constantly on the move. I don't know if it's true, but I also heard that if they stop moving then other sharks may think that they're dead and go after them. I think that is how we have conditioned ourselves. To be constantly on the move forward or otherwise. If you're not then you others pounce in and devour your character or motives or just dismiss you as uninspired.

Lately, I've felt like I've been moving, but am not really sure which way I've been going. Sometimes things look familiar...like I've been here before. But mostly, it's just a blur. I rely on those moments where I am almost forced to sit and rest. Whether it's storytime with Liv or before bed when my wife and I play cards or talk. But you can't have too much of that sitting around...I mean your not going anywhere.

Then I think about it and...well Jesus moved through relationships. That was 'how' he moved. It was through people. He had nowhere else to go...because he specifically came 'here' for us. Basically he spent 3 full years in storytime. He focused on everyone else.

I think the moving forward I do, whether emotionally or professionally - well, it happens during those storytime moments. I guess those times when I'm focusing on someone other than myself, that's when it happens. So...it's home I go...for storytime.

Making My Way

It’s Tuesday. Here I sit, making my way in the world. My schedule is periodically hectic, but lately, it’s been rather slow. I guess it’s nice though, to have some time to get my thoughts together and plan my next life-changing project. It seems that I’m just starting to get my creativity back.

Artists and writers call it different things. I’ve just called it 'the funk I’ve been in.’ It started about a year ago when things seemed to be looking up. I had a relatively new Job. Shelly decided to stay home for a while with our Daughter...and we had a new baby on the way. She was about 13 weeks pregnant. I was writing consistently…journaling, which I don’t do a lot of, but I had just started. Things were going really well when the ‘emotional bottom’ fell out.

Shelly noticed something wasn’t right. After going to the doctor we realized that we had miscarried at 14 weeks. We were stunned. There is a scene that happens in some war movies when a bomb goes off near a soldier. He is thrown some distance, but he’s still alive. Only everything is disoriented. He can’t hear. He can’t see well. He’s obviously hurt, but is still trying to go…somewhere. That’s exactly what I felt like.

They always say that people, suffering from shock, tend to focus heavily on one thing. I stopped by a traffic accident once and the lady, obviously in shock, kept asking me to get the keys out of her car. “Get the keys out of the car! Get the keys out of the car!” I got them and gave them to her and she just sat there, not knowing what else to do.

I guess my ‘thing’ was that I stopped creating. Almost completely. Creativity was the farthest thing from my mind. What kept me going was the fact that through it all one of my best friends would sit and talk with me. He didn’t want anything, except what was best for me. He would just sit, sometimes talk, but mostly listen. It is because of this that our friendship went to a whole new place. That’s one thing that allows me today, to continue to make my way in the world - because my friend decided to be Jesus instead of himself. (Actually, God allowed him to do both.)

For now…the ringing has died down…a little. I think I’ve seen a few positives come out of this. Although, I still think about our child, but know that I’ll never understand why he/she was taken away. I just have to go on making my way, and trusting that God’s going to make the best of it.

Routine

My daughter and I have this ritual before bed. Shelly or I will read her a story. Then we’ll say our bible verses, (she’s memorized three so far) and then we say our prayers. We blow out the light, although lately she’s found it funny to ‘sneeze’ out the light, and then she immediately raises her right arm and says, “Rub my arm please.”

The rubbing of the arm started when she was a child and I would try anything to get her to go to sleep. I started rubbing her face and then arms. That seemed to really calm her down. Now, it’s routine. But, of course, it has evolved into a toddler massage of sorts. First the arm then the other, then the tummy and the back and the feet, to which she always says, “that tickles.” When she’s stalling she’ll start thinking of other things like fingers and eyebrows and neck and ears.

Yes, I sit there and I do it. I really kind of like it. I mean after all, she just wants to be with me. How long will that last? Maybe in her two and a half year old mind she considers me or shelly the only ones who could really help her rest. But, sometimes the tired side of me says, “Ok, this is the last time.”

Last night I was in the middle of the routine when it hits me. How many times do I do this with God? How many times have I put God through the routine? Sometimes it’s positive, but mostly it’s not. How many times have I committed the same offense and said, “God I’m sorry, I really don’t want to be this way. Please forgive me. I promise never to do it again!” Then I’m fine for a while until it happens again. And then I sink into the same routine. It’s maddening really.

Albert Einstein once said, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

That pretty much says it all. You know George Castanza of Seinfeld fame once decided to do the complete opposite of what his instincts told him to do. When he wanted to lie, he told the truth. When he wanted to order one thing, he ordered another. He was amazed at the results. He was liberated.

I question that. But then again, I question most everything. I didn’t used to. But I’m learning that not everything is as it seems. People aren’t as well intentioned as I once thought. I used to be naive and think that people were thinking more of me than of themselves. That’s hardly ever the case.

So, today, I sit in the midst of routine attempting to break out of the ruts I’ve created in my thought process. It’s insanity trying to become better by oneself. This is why my attempt at reconciliation with God becomes so tedious. Because deep down, somewhere, where I lack a confidant center, I feel that I’ll do it again. And this makes me sad, because alone, I really am powerless to defeat any of this. But while I pray, God remains. Maybe He’s thinking the same thing that I think while rubbing Liv’s earlobes. Maybe He likes the fact that I consider Him the only one that can help me get some rest.