Things I Don't Get

Many times during a day I will find myself saying this to myself: "I wonder why that is." I mean, let's face it, there are lots of things I just don't get.

For instance--today, in a field that had just been cleared of it's wind rows of grass for silage, I saw 21 bald eagles. Twenty one! They were scattered all about a field of about ten acres or so and every one of them was facing the same direction. Not one of them looked as though it was going anywhere anytime soon. It was as if one of them--the leader, I suspect--called a meeting and they were waiting for it to begin. Weird. Very, very cool, but weird nonetheless.

Another little something that I don't get, and it bugs me to no end--why is that anyone would go UNDER the posted speed limit? After all, the road has been specifically designed for a vehicle to travel at a particular speed. They post the speed on a sign. Pretty simple. Essentially, the sign is saying 'It's safe to travel 55 MPH on this road' and yet people take it into their own hands to mistrust the engineers who studied and computed the speed limit and proceed at a snail's pace. To me, it's like going to the store with a 50 percent off coupon and telling the checker, "No, really. I only want 30 percent off. Whoever handed out these coupons must be nuts, you'll never make any money this way. 50 seems way outta line! 30 will be fine, thanks." It makes no sense at all to me.

And lastly....what ever happened to courtesy? Where did it go? How did it become passe? I sat at a crosswalk in front of a high school for what seemed like an eternity today because most of today's kids have no courtesy. None. They meandered in front of me like those cows that never come home; like ants that couldn't find their farm. To say that they were oblivious would be giving them too much credit. They were ignorant of oblivion. Maybe one of the new courses next year should be "How to behave in a society full of people that care about others." I doubt anyone would care to sign up.

Rain Rain Go Away

Washingtonians don't tan, we rust.

Here it is the 6th day of June and the sun has yet to be seen this month.

We have a rain festival here in Washington. It runs from January 1 until December 31.
It's not exciting, but 50 million slugs can't be wrong.

May we rust in peace.

I Got The Music In Me

I found this fun little widget today on another blog so I thought I'd try it.

They say you can learn a lot about a person by the music he/she listens to...but who are "they" and what do they know anyway??These are a just a snippet of some of my favoritest songs.

I hope it works.

On Being Content

See this picture? Of course you do, I doubt I have any blind readers. See that mountain? It's beautiful huh? Yes it is. I took that picture not all that long ago of Mt. Baker, which I can see from my front window many, many days....Okay, maybe if you subtract that second 'many'. The thing is, I can't see it today. It is gray and drizzly and by most standards--dismal. But the mountain is still there.

Beauty is still beauty even when covered in gray.

Being content takes a lot of work. It takes knowing that what you see is not all there is. There is so much more to the picture. That's called faith. I can imagine many things, but I can't imagine a life without faith, can you?

No More Weeding for Me

There are lots of things that bug me about things I've heard in church in my lifetime. Ever since I was a wee lad (I just love saying that in an Irish brogue, by the way) the fact that the Bible says that the streets of heaven will be paved with gold just hasn't landed well in me. I mean the whole of the holy book is about life beyond here and in 'the kingdom come'. So why would the place we long to go to be advertised in such a materialistic way? Where's the anticipation in that? Trading one materialistic world for another?? Well, today when I was pulling weeds in my backyard ( I know, what a lame time to be thinking about such things, but hey, I was thinking about the curse of man and how it is our lot to toil all of our days on this little green Earth God gave us. So it's lame....consider the source) it hit me. Are you ready?? The reason the streets will be paved with gold is because the stuff is so plentiful and of so little value compared to the rest of heaven, they're going to use the stuff as asphalt!!!

Talk about an epiphany :)

I think it's a good thing every so often to sit and ponder what it is in your life that you take for granted. Because when you begin to appreciate the little things, you can no longer accuse yourself of taking them for granted.

I like to play softball. I've been playing for around twenty years and I still enjoy it a lot. Not that I want to get all braggy on myself but, I can still play. On my Monday night team (I play on a different team on Friday nights) I am 'the old guy'. It's a co-ed team with players ranging from 19 to 48--which of course would be me. I play outfield. Wherever they want to put me is fine. I love to run and dive and catch and throw. All of it is just excellent!

Essentially, what I'm saying is: I am glad that even though I have an extremely physical job, I still have a healthy enough body to play a game that I enjoy that lets me feel like I'm still a boy every time I play it. It may just be a little thing, but it IS the little things we take for granted.

As you might well know by now, I am a big fan of words; how they fit together, how they come apart and why we use the ones we do when we do. I have never studied these things formally--I don't even own a suit--but they're a part of my thinking and since this little blurb is about my mind, well....what did you expect?

For example, if you study theology you're a theologian, but if you study geology you're a geologist.
If you make a comment you're a commenter, yet if you comment on television you're a commentator. Well, I may just be a common tater, but I can tell you that it just doesn't make sense.
If a fly flies by and then flies out a window, you say, "It flew out the window." But if a baseball player hits a fly and someone catches it, he flied out. Some of these things just don't fly with this here guy.
When you drive too fast it's called speeding and you, as the driver, are a speeder. But if you drive in manner that is reckless you are not recklessing, nor are you called a recklesser.
These are the silly little things that go through my mind all the time. It's nothing to lose sleep over. But then again...how does one LOSE sleep?

Just a boy in the woods

I grew up going to church, singing hymns and listening to sermons. I was taught that this was worship. And while I still believe it to be true, as I have grown in my spirit and in my want to be closer to God, places like these have become my cathedral.



Where robins sing in rounds and the silence in between sounds like grass waiting for wind. Where the color of green against sky blue pales to the splendor of the heart in you.

Like Dog, Like God

Have you ever noticed how we as humans tend to affix human qualities, thoughts and words into and onto non-human things? It's called anthropomorphizing. We do it all the time. I know I do. I mean, if you've read here before you've no doubt noticed that I try to interject my thoughts into various animals and birds all the time. There's nothing wrong with it. In fact, it's really kind of fun! The Far Side is the epitome of anthropomorphizing and, in my ever humble opinion, is fantastic! One of my faves.

Why do you think dog is a man's best friend? Because you can pretend your dog is thinking ANY thing you want him/her to be thinking. If your real best friend sat in your passenger seat and never spoke a word and slobbered on your window would he/she still be your best friend? Just because they look at you in a way you think you can interpret?? How many times do you hear someone say, "Awww, he just loves me! Look at him, he's thinking 'what a great person my owner is.'"? Or something similar. But what if the dog is really thinking in dog--not human--and it goes something like this: "big round eyes, wag tail, get better food." Or what if, when a robin sits atop a tree on a sunshiny morning chirping out it's delightful melody, it's not really celebrating the fact that it's a bright, cheery morning, but instead is sounding off to the other birds in the neighborhood..."hey you schmucks! Wake up, these worms aren't gonna last all day!" We have no idea, so we fill in the blanks with our own, human words and sentiments. And usually in our own language, because I don't know about you, but I just can't imagine cows speaking French.

Unfortunately, we do the same thing with God. God is not merely a super human with super human powers. No, He is GOD and even though we are created in His image, we are not God. Not even close. Which one of us is everywhere right now? Which one of us can create something from nothing? Which one of us can even fathom that? We say things like, "God must be angry" or "that makes God very sad", which may or may not be true in any given circumstance, but we are thinking it in human terms because we're human. But God's sad or glad or angry are not the same as our human versions of those things. In the same way that we cannot be everywhere at once, we cannot have all these emotions at once. In the same way God can be (and is) everywhere at once, He can have all these emotions at once. We affix our limited suppositions on The God that is humanly unknowable and in the process we make Him very weak and small. Like ourselves. I know I do. And He loves me anyway!

Geography and Photography

Let me try to explain to you where I am five days a week. Ready? Okay, play along with me. Hold out your right hand like you did in elementary school when you were supposed to trace it with your pencil to make a turkey at Thanksgiving time. Now fold all your four fingers in half and pretend like your thumb is twice as thick as it is. Got it? Your hand now looks like the state of Washington. No really, it does! See that space between your thumb and your index finger? That body of water is called Puget (pronounced pew-jet) Sound. The island I have the privilege to deliver to in my little brown truck is located right there in that sound. If your hand were actually land, the island is attached (with a bridge) about half way up your bent index finger. It has some amazing scenery. Here's just a sample...isn't springtime great??

Let Go

Today was my little girl's birthday, but the thing is, she's not a little girl anymore. It's official. At least according to the the law. Today she became an adult. It's a weird feeling for me. I mean, I'M not even an adult yet, what is she doing becoming one??

I know that my children are really not mine, they're gifts from God, given to me for a time. Great gifts they are too, but it's that time thing that gets me. Every moment of your life as a parent, whether you know it or not, you're growing closer to your children. After all, love will do that to you. You give it away, you give it away, and you give it away some more. All the while those little gifts we call children are taking it in, taking it in, taking it in and learning how to give it back simply by your example. That's the way love is; it's a simultaneous giving and taking that causes you to grow closer to each other. There's no way around it. It's the way God designed it. That's what makes me wonder about people who say they know God and yet they don't love Him. Makes me wonder if they know him at all. But that's a tangent for another day. While growing closer to my daughter was the most desired as well as a most fulfilling thing for me and her, somewhere in the midst of that God wanted me to be learning how to let go.

I started learning how when she was 11 years old. That night in the summer when I crawled up on her bed at night like I always did. It was bed time. It was story time. It was kiss me goodnight time. Only on this night it was 'your mom and I are getting a divorce' time. Suddenly I had knowingly caused deep hurt in my little girl's heart. I didn't want to let go, but in that moment everything that was normal wasn't normal anymore. After I spoke that sentence and the sobbing began I knew her dreams had been shattered as much, if not more than mine had. It was the first step of letting go.

When she backed out the driveway on her 16th birthday with her two little brothers in the car and those three little hands waved goodbye, I knew that I'd be seeing precious little of that little precious girl in the days past that one. They lived eight miles away at the time, and had no other reason to come this way, but to 'visit' me. Her life was busy. She has always been an industrious student; always a straight 'A' girl and that takes time. Time and discipline. She also has always been a girl with a big circle of friends because she's a always been a good friend. More time taken. She is athletic and modestly so. While it was never her greatest passion, she would never scrimp on the training, which takes? You guessed it...time. As her dad I would never want her not to have any of these pursuits as they are all excellent and are worthy of her character, but it would mean that she would be a busy girl...with a car. Step two of letting go.

So tonight, I must surmise, is step three. Tonight she is a legal adult and harsh as it may sound, I will hold my tongue and give advice only when it is asked for. I will interject when I am asked and I will treat her as my adult daughter--with values and opinions different than my own. I am no less in love with this girl that has become a woman than I have ever, ever been. She will however, never cease to be my little girl.

Of that one thing I will never let go.

A couple of things...

First of all, look at this photo closely (click on it to enlarge). On the right hand side, about halfway up, you will see that I am sometimes a very lucky photo taker...

...it's a hawk that must have suddenly noticed me (or my big brown truck) and it hit it's brakes midflight, midair. Cool huh??

Last, and very certainly not least. When I wake up in the morning I will be the proud dad of a 21-year-old daughter. WHOA!! to the Nth degree!!!!!

I find it amazing how many amazing things there are. For example this little bird. Not so much the bird, but it's choice of a perch. Notice that the other stems of grass are pretty much straight up and down and yet the one it is resting on (and swaying, I might add) is bent at a somewhat parallel angle to the ground. Now, at first glance, and maybe even at second, it would seem like an insignificant detail, but I stopped and took this picture and as soon as I did the bird flew away and the blade of grass sprung up tall and straight as if nothing had ever happened. How does a bird flying along at a fairly healthy clip, in full grip of the wind, maneuver itself to a landing on an upward stalk of green grass? How does it know it's a strong and trustable piece of grass on not a limp, dying one? Or why not simply land on the ground? Do you suppose even the birds of the air have an inherent faith that they are being watched over?

These are the questions of the little boy left in me.

His eye is on the sparrow and I know He's watching me.

Hard Questions

I'd like to make a sheep out of oak......wooden ewe?

I'd like to make an alphabet out of birch.....wooden 'u'?

I'd like to know what happens when you fall into a bin of toothpicks....wood in you?

I'd like to know where you can study forestry in college.....wooden U?

I'd like to know what would happen if you replaced smokeless tobacco with bark....wooden chew?

I'd like to make a pair of slippers out of alder....wooden shoe?

I'd like to know how I got to be this way....wouldn't you?

Ned The Threedle

There once was a boy named Ned. Ned lived in a place called Toodle. In Toodle everyone owned a poodle. One day Ned's poodle died so he moved to Threed. When you live in Threed you're called a Threedle. Since Ned was a Threedle Ned learned how to thread a needle. Now Ned the Threedle could thread the needle like no other Threedle could. Oh sure, other Threedles were good at threading needles but none as good as Ned. No needle ever threaded was threaded better than a needle that Ned had threaded. No no no. Ned the Threedle could thread a needle like no other Threedle needle threader. So if you're ever in Threed and you need a Threedle to thread your needle call Ned the Threedle cuz no one ever threaded a better needle than Ned did.

So what does this have to do with ANYthing? Nothing. Absolutely Nothing. Sometimes I just get bored and make up lame stuff. This is exhibit 'A'.

So tell me...

...why aren't you telling me what you think? I know...yes, I KNOW that there are a select few (very few) of you who read this here little thing called a blog and don't comment--it's called lurking, people. If you did this in public you'd be called 'rude', but this is cyberspace and evidently every thing is permitted. However, tonight I am calling you to task. I want to know why you're so quiet. Now, don't get me wrong, I like quiet and all, but you should not simply lurk forever, one might question your upbringing.

Here's the assignment: in one sentence or more tell me what prevents you from putting that little floating thought that you're thinking into writing here. Simple huh?

I'm waiting...

(those of you that normally comment are free to chime in and make your astute observations as normal, of course!)

Snippets of a day in the life

Today it snowed and it rained and the sun shone bright. I took my coat off, put it back on, took it back off, put it back on...Froze, sweated, shivered, felt nice. It was the last day of March but it felt like a day that belonged in January.

I saw a coyote, a bald eagle or three, too many deer to count, countless horses and cows, chickens, swans, ducks, geese and a wolf.

I delivered signs and clothing and paper and office supplies and tractor parts and pet food and trees and titles and documents and guns and carseats and books and cd's and whatsits and thingamabobs to one hundred and twelve different addresses over the course of a hundred and fifty three miles in the span of nine point three hours.

I laughed, I talked, I thought, I sang, I prayed, I whistled, I texted, I called, I ate, I drove, I ran, I jumped, I had fun!

My greatest observation of the day (although I've had it before) was this: There is one sure fire way to a woman's heart. Jump out of your truck smiling and hand her a box with these two words on the side....NORDSTROM SHOES. Don't ask me why, but it works every time!

Sometimes it's just cold.

I had worked hard all day to get to his game, as I like to watch him play. Actually, I like to watch what he does when he sits on the bench, too; the way he engages people, his mannerisms, his smile. But, I digress.

The old wooden stadium was built for a football crowd, long before soccer became a high school sport. The grandstands run east to west and, luckily on this day the wind was out of the south so if you sat high enough the wind might miss you. The game time temperature must have been close to 40 degrees. At least that's what it read on the bank's sign just outside the campus. But with the wind's assistance it felt like a lot colder.

I sat (and sometimes stood) alone way high in the bleachers. I'm sure some thought it to be strange. There were thirty, maybe forty people in attendance, most of them parents or grandparents of the players, I'm sure. There was a small group of maybe eight or so students that must have had a friend on the team, or maybe they needed an excuse not to go home. Either way, it was nice to see.

The game was fairly uneventful--unless you were watching every little thing your son was doing. Many times I felt like cheering when my boy broke free from a defender at breakneck speed--only to have the ball go the other way--and cheering wouldn't have been appropriate. Many times I felt my heart swell with pride and I heard myself say "way to go" or "atta boy". It was at those particular moments I would look down and see my former wife and her husband all decked out in hoodies and wrapped in a warm blanket, seemingly oblivious to the game being played. It was in those moments I felt the most alone. Suddenly, the bleachers couldn't block out the cold.

Sometimes the hardest thing about this whole single parent thing is NOT being able to share what you feel as a parent with the only other person who might understand what it is that you feel.

Do you ever wonder what those two days were like? Those two days Jesus spent in hell for things he didn't do? Not only did he die a horrendous death for being perfect, but then he had to bring those sins to hell and defeat Satan and his legion of demons as proof that he was indeed The Christ. There were no Pharisees or high priests or even true disciples there to witness it. It wasn't something done so as to be recorded for posterity. But it needed to be done. Death had to be defeated in order for us to live. Jesus wasn't quietly laying behind a stone trying to figure out how to escape his burial cloths, he was fighting for the future of eternity. He was fighting to ensure that everything he ever said and did up to that point was true and He did it for you and for me. He fought death and won! It seems like our Christianized version of the event is sanitized to the point of making it into a glorified fairy tale. I know that Jesus languished in hell for me, because of me, so that he could spend eternity with me. It is the only identity I will ever need.

Happy Easter.

The Quiet Chapter

I have myriad of things to write about and still tonight I am still. It seems I have found a quiet chapter inside that needs my listening. I don't know how and I surely don't know why, but contentment has found me and, for tonight, I will share it with you in silence.

The post in which I use way too many parentheses (which, if you look at it long enough will look misspelled)

Today I was breathing (of course, I was breathing) when suddenly something foreign (no, not Canadian, that would be sick) was absorbed into my innards. As we speak (which, by the way, if you're speaking while reading this, is a little weird in and of itself) I am getting dizzy and starting to get the chills (how does one start to get the chills?) so I can only surmise that I am getting sick (No! not Canadian). Don't you hate it when people (you know who you are) say, "Yeah, that stuff's goin' around", as if stuff hasn't always been goin' around? (Except that day back in '32) So I am going to have some tea (shut up!) with honey and lemon in it. The thing is, when I went to the cupboard to get the honey (you know, the kind that comes in a little bear-shaped bottle) it was completely crystallized (no, not the bottle, the honey) to the point where there was no liquidity at all (poor little bear was all stopped up) so I put him (although it could be a her...hard to tell at this stage of honey bottle bear maturity) in the microwave for about thirty seconds. I'll have you know that twenty seconds would have been plenty (did you know that really, really hot honey runs like water?). I now have a steaming, hot cup of tea (shut up...again) with really runny honey in it (and I have one bear with really runny honey in it).

The End (parenthetically speaking, of course!)

Imagine if you will...

...imagine if you can.

You open your eyes and you're standing in line at the very last audition to the very last "American Idol". Ever. You are ushered into the stadium where there are hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of people when suddenly there is an eerie silence. Helicopters appear over the edges of the stadium walls and they are headed your way. The stadium lights go black. Not a sound is heard. You look up in the sky and suddenly you and only you are standing in the center of what seems like a million candle spotlight emanating from each helicopter and a voice deep and still announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, the auditions are now closed. The person you see standing here in the light is our winner!" You expect to hear thunderous booing and hissing, but instead the throng goes absolutely crazy with the loudest cheers you've ever heard. A microphone is lowered out of who knows where to dangle in front of you. You step up and say, "I don't know that to say. I don't understand. I didn't DO anything. You must be mistaken because I...I...I don't deserve..." And then you blink.

You open your eyes and you're somewhere completely different than you were just a second ago. And someone is holding your hand? Wait, he's not holding your hand, he's shaking it. Your eyes look down at your hand and trace the hand that is shaking yours back up to a bespectacled little man. It's Bill Gates! In your other hand is one of those gigantic checks that you get when you win some sort of prize. You lean over to read it at it says 'Pay to the order of...and there, right there in that all important line is YOUR name! And the amount? Fifty billion dollars. Fifty. Billion. With a 'B'!! In all the excitement you barely even noticed that Mr. Gates was going on and on about how he 'had never met a more deserving person' and, evidently he was talking about YOU! You shake your head as if to say, 'you must have the wrong person'. You try to explain that you probably weren't supposed to be there, since just two seconds ago you won the American Idol award, but your words are dwarfed by applause as everyone looks at you and cheers as mountains of confetti fall from the sky. So much confetti that it makes a New York ticker tape parade look like a pullstring party popper. The cameras flash endlessly...And then you blink.

You open your eyes and you're standing on the steps of what appears to be a castle of some sort. When you look closer you realize it IS a castle. And not just a Disneyland castle, but an actual authentic castle! You are surrounded by a cast of extremely royal looking people. You surmise that this must be a coronation of sorts. In an instant there are servants surrounding you with what looks like a gown of significant worth. And a crown. You find yourself a bit dazed as they seem to be draping the gown on YOU. And the crown too! The trumpets blare and a decree is read..."It is hereby declared that (fill in your name) has come to claim the throne that was long ago created here in the castle of the land that bears his name." You say, "There must be a mistake, I'm not that old and this country is named after me?" The throng of people, in unison replies, "We have been waiting for you since long before your birth." The voices sound like what you've always imagined an angelic choir would sound. It is grand! It is majestic! It is about YOU! And then you blink.

You open your eyes and you realize that you have experienced in mere human terms what the first three blinks of heaven must be like.

You deserve none of it. You did nothing for it. You were chosen because YOU are YOU!!!!

A Post About A Post

Even an ordinary thing can become something beautiful. For instance, this fence post. At first glance it was just another in a long line of posts. Upon closer inspection, however, it is clearly different. When lined up properly, it's flaw--the hole in it--allows you to see something you simply can't see through the others. Thank God for the hole He's creating in you because, given the right perspective and the right moment, someone's going to see something beautiful beyond the hole.

p.s. It also never hurts to have a bright, shining light overhead either :)

When silence
comes a' calling
from someone
who once cared

Her silence
is appalling
your heart
for once dared

When silence
it is falling
it's something
best unshared

When silence
comes a' calling
pretend like
you're not there

Dancing in the reign

In my teenage years I began to really love music, so of course I listened to AM radio a lot while driving around in my 1970 Duster. I liked all of the usual stuff any teenager in the mid-seventies liked: The Eagles, Boston, Kansas, Firefall, Loggins and Messina, Steve Miller Band, etc. and if I liked a band a whole, whole lot I would splurge and go buy the 8-track so I could listen whenever I wanted to. I also liked Christian music at the time. (Once again, I know...weird. But hey! Does that surprise anyone?) However, most Christian music was slow and schmaltzy to me until I heard Larry Norman and Randy Stonehill. I loved both of them! One of my favorite 8-tracks was called "In Another Land" by Larry Norman. Well, Larry Norman died this weekend and I heard about it this morning on the station I listen to. My very favorite song on the album was the title track. I know it backwards and forwards and upside down. I sang it all day today. Here it is: (by heart)

A thief fell out of heaven
Two loaded dice
But the Lamb rolled a seven
Back to Paradise
The bread was finally leavened
So I had a slice
As the sun began to rain

Water fell from fountains
And then turned to wine
Rocks fell from the mountains
In a chorus line
He came in tails and top hat
And He looked so fine
As the Son began to reign

A fox snuck in to steal away the grapes
But the man who ran the vineyard shut the gate
So he could not escape

And now we'll live forever
In another land
Everything is changing
Like it first was planned
Did you get your invitation
To come play in the band
And let the Son begin to reign



Larry Norman is now in another land dancing in the reign.

The Simple Things

I have come to find the beauty in simple things. Yesterday as my brother and I were out taking pictures on a very springlike day I took this picture...


...I'm think I'm going to call it "Insulator" (by Barb Dwire)

The wire reminds me of my humor...rusty and twisted :)

Wind...

Have you ever stopped to notice the sound of wind through a tree? I did just that today...I know, sometimes I'm just weird that way, along with many other ways, but I digress. What is wind? It is air that is moving, but where is it going? Where did it come from and what did it replace? Who tells it to move? Does it have ears to hear? Why doesn't it make a sound when it stops?

Isn't it funny that we can no more explain wind than God and yet we rarely give it a second thought? Air is the one thing we know of that most closely resembles God in it's qualities--it's invisible, it's everywhere, it moves, it's powerful, it sustains us--and yet we believe in it with every fiber of our being because some smart guy says he proved it? Yet we can't believe in God because smart guys don't get it??

Tomorrow, when you feel the wind in your hair and it makes you feel something new--say 'hello' to God and thank Him for brushing up so close to you.

Three Little Hands

I'm not sure how it happened or what triggered it, but as I was on my drive to my route today an old, painful memory hit me square between the eyes. I guess I was wondering how it is that I have made it this far; how it is that I was able to carry on.

Most of the memories surrounding the last days of my marriage are a blur if anything at all. Most, that is, except those two or three minutes that it took for the U-Haul to disappear from sight as it drove away. I was standing alone in the driveway of the house we called home for the past 7 years--where I would 'live' alone for the next 2 weeks--and out of the passenger window all I could see were those three little hands frantically waving goodbye. It was then that I knew my life would never be the same. It was then that I knew a whole new pain. I don't know if there's a way to describe that kind of pain. My heart was so heavy I could scarcely move a muscle, but I knew I had to wave to let them know I loved them.

In an effort to live fully from my heart, sometimes I have to open a door that I painted shut. You have just been given a brief peek behind one such door.

Lately I've been thinking about lovely. Yes, lovely. Why is the word so seldom used these days and what does it really mean?

I think it is used so seldom these days because our society is enamored with the exterior and being lovely has very little, if anything to do with the exterior. It is an interior quality born of the heart. It has more to do with the glint in your eye than the color of it. More to do with intent of your heart than the careful calculations of your words. More to do with the way you carry yourself than the way you look. More about the maturing of your soul than the aging of your skin.

My mom turned 82 on Thursday and yet I think she's becoming more lovely with each passing day. Her face is wrinkled and her hair has just started turning gray. Her pace is slowed and her accent thickens almost daily, but nonetheless she has become a very lovely woman. She easily could have chosen otherwise.

When she was 13 years old she moved out of her parents' home to go to work as a maid. "That's just how it was in those days", is how she puts it. She was the youngest of 6 children and never had much in the way of material things. Life was hard in the Netherlands in the 30's and 40's so every healthy person worked to help feed the family. My mom never knew any different. To this day she doesn't think of that time in her life as a hardship, but as a blessing.

In 1951 she and my dad married. Shortly thereafter, they--along with my dad's parents, his 5 siblings and spouses (with the exception of his youngest sister, who was single)--moved to 'the promised land' of America. Think about that for a minute...she left her own family behind to start a new life in a new country with a new husband. Together they had a total of 12 American dollars to start their life here. My oldest brother was born in 1952 and by the time he was 3 years old he had 3 sisters and a brother! You read that right. My mom had a 3 year old, a 2 year old, a 1 year old, and then? Twins! The fact that her hair is just now turning gray is a matter of amazement to me. And she wasn't done yet. By the time my oldest brother was 7 there were 7 of us!

Remember now, this was before the days of disposable diapers and formula and battery operated child swings. As you can imagine, my dad had to burn the candle at both ends to finance the endless sucking noise known as 'children eating'. My mom orchestrated the chaos at home alone for the most part. I have no idea how. That was just the formative years. Can you imagine this?...When I turned 13 she suddenly had 6 teenagers under her roof? Can you say, 'insanity'? And once again, my mom would say, "I didn't know any different" with the most genuinely understated smile you will ever see.

Tomorrow my brothers and sisters and assorted other family members will gather together to pay tribute to my mom. A woman who in my eyes has become the definition of...Lovely!

It isn't....but it IS...

It isn't rocket science
but there is chemistry involved

It isn't a game
but it's best when there are x's and o's

It isn't a potion
but it is intoxicating

It isn't a disease
but it makes you dizzy

It isn't explainable
but you will know it

It isn't a flavor
but it's delicious

It isn't a novel idea
but there's a book about it

So...what is it???

It is LOVE!!
The very essence of God Himself. It is the most inexplicable, unfathomable, undeniable, indescribable, truest thing there is...just like God Himself.
This life is a journey of finding, knowing, grasping, holding, and giving of this crazy little thing called love.
(I dare ya not to get that Queen song stuck in your head now!)

The Sun and the Ocean

At evening, when the sun dips down to kiss the ocean, she blushes red and he shines bright. They hold fast each other slipping into the darkness, giving way to the moon and it's soft light. Nightly they show us their daily devotion as slowly they meet and the two become one.

Scoop it!

Isn't it funny how the smallest things trigger memories?

Just now I went to get myself a bowl of ice cream and realized that my son had had a bowl last night and had used the scooper so it was in the dishwasher. I went to my utensil drawer to see what else I might use and voila! the memory was triggered....

When my kids were maybe 9, 5 and 3 their mom had an evening job so it was up to me to do dinner. And by 'do' I mean, put what my then-wife had prepared into the oven. When dinner had been eaten and we'd had a time of playing and schoolwork (at least for my daughter) one of the kids would invariably say "Dad, let's do ice cream!" Never did they say "Let's HAVE ice cream." No. Ice cream took some 'do'ing.

I would get out the bowls, choose the ice cream and turn to the utensil drawer and say "Hmmmm...now where can that ole ice cream scooper be?" I would then proceed to 'scoop' the ice cream with every conceivable thing I could find, except of course, the ice cream scoop. There was the tea ball thingy. The garlic press. The tongs. A corkscrew. A wire whisk. A spatula. The mixer attachment doohicky....all done to the tune of hilarious children laughs. Oh it was fun!

Thank God for memories that make me laugh!

Weird!

I just went to the grocery store down the street to get some stationery to write a letter to my daughter and the strangest thing happened.

First you must know that there is a growing population of Russian immigrants moving into our city and that near the grocery store is a church where, on Sunday nights they hold services that are given in their language.

So, as I'm looking up and down the aisles trying to find where they might hide things like stationery, I notice this one very prim and proper looking older woman perusing the magazine rack. She was wearing a nice dress with dark leggings and a dark, woolen winter coat. Very church-like attire. And as I pass her by she rips a big, loud fart! I am SO not kidding!! She didn't so much as flinch or move a muscle (at least not visibly). Is that just part of the culture?

It was the grossest, funniest thing I've experienced in a long, long time.
Thought I'd share it with you all. :)

What warm on the inside looks like...

...tonight.

A Father and His Boys

A few feet from where I sit there are two boys that bear my name. My blood is in their veins. And while at this moment they're both sleeping, my concern for them is heightened. They are my boys. God has loaned them to me for but a brief time and it is my privilege and responsibility to steer their lives for a few, numbered days. I don't know the number, but God does.

Outside the sky is dark, the wind is howling and it is cold; a stark contrast to the quiet, warmth that is our home. As males we love the violence of wind and welcome cold and dark as challenges to be reckoned with. We're rough and tumble, dirt and mud. We're loud and boisterous, wild and strong. We understand these things about each other, but will the world even try to understand?
I know it will be an uphill battle. I know the temptation to retreat when misunderstood. I know the urge to hide the pain; to go it alone--isolation seems the easier pain to endure. I know these things too well.

I also know my Father...He stands with open arms. I hope I can model that to my boys because...the sky is dark, the wind is howling and it is cold.

A Child in Your Heart

I read a couple of things this week that struck a chord inside of me and have lingered and bounced around near my heart and made me feel something that I'm not sure I can put into words. Maybe it will do the same for you.


I know what I really want for Christmas. I want my childhood back. Nobody is going to give me that...I know it doesn't make sense, but since when is Christmas about sense, anyway? It is about a child of long ago and far away, and it is about the child of now. In you and me. Waiting behind the door of our hearts for something wonderful to happen.

--Robert Fulghum



When I was a boy I believed in Christmas.
A miracle season
To make a new start.
But I don't need no miracle
Sweet baby Jesus.
Just help me find
Some kind of hope in my heart.

--Randy Stonehill (Christmas at Denny's)



While I do believe in--and love deeply--the Christ of Christmas more than I ever have, I sometimes long for the unselfconscious ways of childhood. The days before I was told to 'grow up and be a man'. Which all too often means--quit being amazed, stop all that wonder, turn off your feelings and just think about what your doing, after all, it's a big, serious world out there.

I want to be a wild boy again! Not knowing or caring about words like jaded or tainted or disbelief. Not caught in the trap of my own intellect, but free to run in the wide open spaces of my heart. A return to innocence. After all, didn't Jesus come to free us of our guilt and shame? And isn't that what keeps us from living from the deep impulses of our heart? Isn't that called 'innocence'? That's the hope I have today. The hope of a childlike--and yes, even childish--Christmas.

There's a frozen fog hanging heavy outside my window tonight. But I am nestled inside my warm little house as the fire crackles in the woodstove. The little white lights on the Christmas tree and three flickering candles are the only lights in the house. It's a scene of warmth that should be shared. I am quiet and restful and satisfied. Mostly.

I miss my kids on nights like this.

Well, it's that time again here in the good ole U S of A. The most ironic holiday that we still celebrate in our country. A day where we celebrate the bounty of God's goodness toward us.
A day to reflect on all of our blessings; To reflect and take stock of what the word blessed really means. A day to enjoy the presence of people we love and to just 'be'.

The day before the day the stores are filled to capacity with people spending money they don't have to buy things they don't need to impress people they don't care about to fill a void they don't think they have.
Ironic don'tcha think?

As for me, I will continue to be thankful that I am more than just flesh and blood and bones. I will be thankful for the ability to be thankful to a God that is real and that resides in my very soul. I will be thankful for you--my fellow planetmate--and the possibilities of hope and joy that were designed in you by God.

It's an easy choice to make... be thankful you have a choice.

Today was one of those days...

Today I got up early and had breakfast with one of my friends. We had a nice breakfast and talked about nothing in particular.
After that I got my hair cut by another one of my friends. I talked to him and his wife, who works with him. We've been good friends for a long time so the conversation was easy and good.
On the way home I called my son and talked to him about last night's football game. Texted my daughter just to say 'hi'.
When I got home a did some laundry, cleaned my bathroom, raked some leaves, and generally putzed around while waiting for the chimney sweep to show up so I could go to Costco to fill my stomach on free samples and buy a few goodies while I was at it.
Later I went to a little wedding at my church. Took in the festivities, ate some cake, drank some punch and came home.

All in all it wasn't an exciting day, but it was a full one.
So why am I writing this? I thought you might ask. It's because today was an average Saturday in my life. Okay, so the wedding was a little out of the ordinary, but still it made me realize that I truly am a man who has been blessed. I have friends to talk to. To engage with. They're healthy, wonderful people. My kids have healthy smiles positioned in their hearts. I have a comfortable place to call my own...(With a clean chimney!) to call home. While I do believe there is room in life for lamenting...after all there's a whole book in the Bible full of such groanings, I've decided that there are days where simply is no room for it at all. Today was one of those days.

Almost Heaven

These are my favorite people on the planet. My kids. Individually and collectively they own a big piece of my heart.

I was lucky enough to spend an entire weekend with all three of them this past weekend. The boys and I went to visit my daughter at school and I must say that I don't remember having such a fun filled, fulfilling weekend in a long, long time. It was wonderful just being in the presence of their smiles, their voices, their personalities and their complete and utter enjoyment of each other. I felt like the richest man alive in their midst. And to be their dad? I don't suppose I'll ever find words that begin to describe how that feels. I guess what I experienced-what we all experienced-was a glimpse of what heaven must be like.

I think I'm gonna like heaven.

There's a guy on my route named Lester. He lives down at the end of this gravel road.

I guess that would make this...The road Les traveled.

Poetry?

A woman on my route handed this to me today and said, "You just have to read this, it so reminds me of you!"

I thought I'd share it with you.....

"Why I Have a Crush On You, UPS Man"

you bring me all the things I order
are never in a bad mood
always have a jaunty wave as you drive away
look good in your brown shorts
we have an ideal uncomplicated relationship
you're like a cute boyfriend with great legs
who always brings the perfect present
(why, it's just what I've always wanted!)
and then is considerate enough to go away
oh, UPS Man, let's hop in your clean brown truck and elope!
ditch your job, I'll ditch mine
let's hit the road for Brownsville
and tempt each other
with all the luscious brown foods--
roast beef, dark chocolate,
brownies, Guinness, homemade pumpernickel, molasses cookies
I'll make you my mama's bourbon pecan pie
we'll give all the packages to kind looking strangers
live in a cozy wood cabin
with a brown dog or two
and a black and brown tabby
I'm serious, UPS Man. Let's do it.
Where do I sign?

See what I have to put up with??

Loose Change

Well, as you can tell I've changed back to my old template. For some reason I do feel it's a little bit more 'me'. OR maybe it's just that I'm not good with change. Oh sure I change my socks, my underwear, my furniture positions, sometimes I'll even paint a room, but really? No matter how much you change the accoutrements there are some things that never change. Things on the inside.

I found this out last weekend at my class reunion. I mean, I was aware of it before then, but it just reminded me of the fact again.

In high school I wasn't what you'd call a wall flower. No, I was more like a fly perched on the wall flower. Yeah. I was invisible. Partly because I was extremely shy and partly because of what I thought then was my Christianity. I thought I was supposed to be different so I acted different than everyone else. I didn't realize until later in my life that the difference should have come from a true love of those around me (that would have been an outstanding difference) rather than merely behaving in a way that made me odd. But I was odd. I know I was. High school can be an awfully painful and awkward experience even when you're 'normal', but not being interested in being normal caused me some deep pain. I thought loneliness was just a byproduct of my faith. Like a badge of honor from God. It was all a bunch of religious bullshit I tried to convince myself was true so I wouldn't hurt so bad. There was no love involved in it. And where there's no love there's no God because God IS Love.

I was reminded of this a week ago when my classmates of old collectively and unknowingly rubbed up against my loneliness scar. The one I'd painted over, changed, rearranged, but really? Never changed.

Yeah. I've changed my template back. This one just seems more 'me'.

What A Pane!

As a daily practice I take my camera along with me on my route. You know, to capture whatever captures my fancy on any given day.

Well, I've delivered to this house numerous times over the last couple of years since it was built and have always been amazed at how many windows it has. This is the front of the house, but the back AND the sides are equally showered with glass. I count 77 windows on this side alone! Actual panels of glass divided by vinyl. (Click on the picture for a closer look.)

I suppose to myself that the couple that lives here are either a) the owners of a glass store and they're padding their own pockets, or b) recently retired from Microsoft and this is merely a shrine to Windows. Which ever the case may be I'm thinking about retiring from my job to become their full time window washer.

The July Entry

Since I haven't blogged in a while, the least I could do was change my template to make it appear as though I check in now and then. Tell me what you think. Should I keep this template or trash it? (is that the equivalent to "do these jeans make my butt look too big?") And while you're at it why not give me some ideas on what to write about.

At Last!

The sun is shining warm today and the dogwood blooms have let themselves go to stake their claim to their own piece of wind. Together they dance and twirl and let me know a new moment of enjoyment. The grass is dressed in shimmering and brilliant green, still wearing spring's new shine. Cottonball clouds merging with each other in flight, making checkerboard patterns of shade and sun in the fields below. The birds can no longer hold their silence on a day like this. This day deserves new music! It's been a long time coming, but spring is finally here!!

Things I've Been Thinking...

I have been at sort of a lull here for some time in my writing, but that doesn't mean my mind has stopped (thank God), it just means that I can't seem to nail down a particular subject to write about. So I thought I'd just jot down a few things I've been thinking about writing about. They are all 'still in the oven'...Not quite fully baked as of yet, so....You may never get the full skinny, but here are some random samplings and, I must warn you, some of them are as ridiculous as the very fingers that have the chore of bringing them to bear.

-What is it that causes us to bring something that we believe in intellectually down that little chute connecting our heart with our brain? I mean, it's easy to believe in things factually without them affecting our life, but what about things like love, faith, drive, influence? Since our mind is responsible for things like thinking and deciding, it would follow naturally that letting something MATTER to us deeply is something that is merely decided upon by our brain. I'm really beginning to doubt that though...There may be a physical disconnect of heart and head, but you can't simply live exclusively from one or the other. This may be a 'duh' moment for some of you, but, whatever. I've been thinking about it.

-Here's a real deep one for ya...What's the difference between a crow and a raven? And, No! You can't Google it! And why is that some names of things seem to have been given on days when all the good scientists had the day off...For instance--an orange, a blackbird, a bug, a warthog!

-What if we all started acting as if today really was the last day of your life? I mean, don't you think we'd get used to that kind of intensity? Wouldn't it be nice not to have to hold back so much? To not worry or wonder or care if what your friends said was really true? People who say 'what you see is what you get' are lying. Nobody is one dimensional. I've never seen a person with words like--liar, slightly neurotic, impulsive, ignorant, calloused, deep or even genuine--written in everything they do and say.

-Wouldn't it be nice if the word 'border' had never been invented? Or 'mine', or 'yours' ? We all share the same rain and earth and sky and pain, but because mine is mine and yours is yours I want to keep it from you so the borders are intact. We all want a world without war and yet we will defend an OPINION to the death and to hell with the consequences as long as I'm right!

Hey, I told you I was going to tell you what I've been thinking about. I never said it was going to be syrupy and sappy...And since I brought it up, what's the difference between syrupy and sappy? Isn't syrup just sap?

The End.



-

Few things rival laughter
Save maybe joy

The kind I was after
When I was a boy

A run through the wood
Catching rain on my tongue

Writing down words
To songs yet unsung

I'd lie on my back
To ask and to wonder

All fears did I lack
With no mask to hide under

I laughed and I cried
I lived wild and free

But then something died
The child inside me

And tonight I will bask
In tears with no shame

As I take off the mask
With no one to blame

Take a look in the mirror
And find there true joy

Tho blurred by a tear
Of a full grown boy

What?? Another Post? Already???!!!

Yeah, I know, it might be too soon. What with the rash of comments I've been getting on my posts lately I can hardly keep up!

It seems that my mind (both this one and that pea-sized thing in my head) have become blank slates. I wish there were some sort of rational reason, but take a look at both of those words....Go ahead, I dare ya...They both require brain activity, duh! Sometimes I'm just as dumb as a post. Hmm, do you suppose that might be a play on words?...Nah!

So, why am I here clicking these keys with letters on them, you might ask? And boy am I glad you did! The reason is simple: it's too windy to stack feathers, it's too wet to shot-put sand, and I can't dance!! Interpreted: I'm bored out of my head!

Tell me then, oh faithful reader(s), what is like to have a life? And how can I go about getting one too? I'm a guy with a sense of humor and a sense of adventure too (not to mention a funny looking face), so where is step one on the map out of this place called the doldrums? Should I go crawl up on my roof and howl at the moon (which is splenderful tonight, I might add)? Should I get the garden hose out and water down the road in front of my house so it freezes and then laugh with glee (you remember her..She never comes over anymore either) as the unsuspecting speeders spin out of control and then call 911 and take credit for being a hero? Should I just crack open a bottle of wine? Nah, then it'll spill all over the place. Can you see my dilemma here? Can you feel the frustration level rising? So TELL ME already!!!

If I don't get at least ONE comment I'm going to go take a bath in the goo from a million Advil gelcaps just to deaden the pain.

'Twas The Night Before...

Here's an interesting poem I heard today loosely based on "The Night Before Christmas". It is called "The Night Before Jesus Came"...I hope it stirs something in you.


'Twas the night before Jesus came and all through the house
Not a creature was praying, not one in the house.
Their Bibles were lain on the shelf without care
In hopes that Jesus would not come there.

The children were dressing to crawl into bed,
Not once ever kneeling or bowing a head.
And Mom in rocker with baby on her lap
Was watching the Late Show while I took a nap.

When out of the East there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash!

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But angels proclaining that Jesus was here.
With a light like the sun sending forth a bright ray
I knew in a moment this must be The Day!

The light of His face made me cover my head
It was Jesus! returning just like He had said.
And though I possessed worldly wisdom and wealth
I cried when I saw Him in spite of myself.

In the Book of life which He held in His hand
Was written the name of every saved man.
He spoke not a word as He searched for my name;
When He said "It's not here" my head hung in shame.

The people whose names had been written with love
He gathered to take to His Father above.
With those who were ready He rose without a sound
While all the rest were left standing around.

I fell to my knees, but it was too late;
I had waited too long and this sealed my fate.
I stood and I cried as they rose out of sight'
Oh, if only I had been ready tonight.

In the words of this poem the meaning is clear'
The coming of Jesus is drawing near.
There's only one life and when comes the last call
We'll find that the Bible was true after all!



We were'nt ready the first time He came, do you suppose we'll be ready next time?

Birthday Brother

I am the youngest of seven kids. Always have been :) Which means I have at least seven birthdays to remember, but if you know me at all you know that I have a great memory for things that most people forget. If only I could switch that so I could remember important things, well then, I'd be set. Set in what? I dunno. Ah, but I digress.

Today is my brother's birthday. The brother that is just two years older than I. The brother that I, as a kid, thought hated me. The one that was my most bitter rival in all things brotherly. The one who, if he caught me riding his bike would chase me down, grab that bike by the sissy bar (remember those?...If you don't, don't ask) and walk me to a dead stop and tip me off of said bike only to ride it home and park it in the garage. The brother that always seemed to get lost in the shuffle. I mean, even his birthday always played second fiddle to Christmas (not to mention the fact that if falls on the shortest day of the year), but he never complained. Never!...Still doesn't. When we were young I thought he would break me in half, and he easily could have, given the fact that he outweighed, out-muscled, out-almosteverythingelsed me, but he never hurt me terribly. And now that I have two boys of my own with roughly the same age distance between them, I'm beginning to understand that he pummeled me because that's what brothers do, not out of hate or malice. It helped to make me who I am today. And who I am today is his little brother that is grateful and full of admiration and respect for a the man that my brother is.

Happy Birthday Will! (I'd shake your hand but I know you could still snap it off in a heartbeat if you wanted to :)

Away Is Where I've Been

Well it's been a while hasn't it? Yeah, I've been away, both figuratively and literally.

I had two weeks of vacation in November which I spent in California and Kauai. The first week it was just me visiting friends and family in Ca. and the second week my kids and I spent in Hawaii. That seems like eons ago. There was sunshine and laughter and fun and being together...all of which are very close to the top of the list of my all time favorite things. The time spent with my kids was starting to feel like finally we were reconnecting a bit. I was loving it and feeling really encouraged. But as quickly as it began, it ended. Since I dropped them off at their mom's on Nov. 26, I have not seen my daughter (she's back at school), I've seen my 15 year old for ONE half hour, and my 13 year old I've seen for one full day all tolled.

This living from the heart takes it's toll. I could sit here and tell you that I'm used to it; That, over the cousre of the past 8 1/2 years I've learned to deal with it; That, oh sure it hurts, but I've grown a callous on that part of my soul and I'll be just fine; That if I've found that busyness and having clear life goals and continuing towards those has been a source of healing; But those would all be lies. The fact is, that just this morning I stopped just before I left my house, there in the entryway where the pictures of my three babies hang, and kissed my index finger and touched a picture of their faces and tried hard not to cry because, today?... That's the extent of our interaction. That hurts my heart.

So. If I'm going to continue living with this heart, I'm going to let it show a little instead of hiding and quit trying so hard to 'just get over it'. I know many, many people with bruises on their heart that I want as my friends so I'm going to give them my broken heart so we at least have that in common.

What about you? Where have you been hiding?

It Hardly Seems Possible...

...13 years ago today I became a father for third time. I say it like that because each experience of becoming a father is completely different. I don't like to say I became a father again, or simply that we had another child. As if any of it is remotely the same. Each child is an original experience. Their birth. Their baby-ness. What they do to my insides. How we navigate in, around, and through each other. I love each of my kids uniquely.

Today, however, I get to celebrate the birth of my youngest. Holy Cow! How did he turn 13 when I'm still 25?? How did he become smarter than me? Why do I have to ask him how he thinks I should vote on I-933? When did tickling become passe and girls become okay? Ah well, these are the unanswerable questions that life hands me by the bucket full. The funny thing is, my son seems to have been blessed(?) with the same ability to ask questions and I love it!

The other day we were stopped at a stoplight and there were three kids approximately his age, kind of oddly dressed, that were acting typically teenage-y, that caught his eye. He said nothing, just observed. Maybe 10 minutes later as we were still driving, he asks, "Dad, the plural of cactus is cacti, right?" "Yeah", I reply. "And the plural of alumnus is alumni, right?" "Yeah" ...long pause. Then he says, "Well I can only surmise then, that those dudes at that last corner would be a group of dufi." How hilarious is that!?? It was then that I reached over and tousled his hair and soaked in another moment. I love being his dad!

Happy Birthday to him!

And a great day to the rest of you :)

Book Titles by R.B. Trary

Remember as a kid, those cheesy book titles followed by their extra cheesy authors? You know...

...Yellow River by I.P. Freely

Under The Bleachers by Semour Butz, etc.?



Well, today I thought of a few, more up to date versions...

-The Press Is Always Right by Condy Cending

-No First Names by Anderson Cooper

-Where Have All The Soldiers Gone? by Tupac Tharebags

-There Were No Weapons by Reed Mylips

-It Comes Back Around by Boomer Ang

-Hiding In The White House by Juneau Wariam

-What Did You Step In? by Ishmael Sinnear

-Tracking Bin Laden by Chase N. Araynbo

-I Am Not A Snob by Art C. Fahrtse

-This Time We'll Get Him by Terry Gozagen

-Whistles In My Head by Wendy Windblows

-He's Still President by Wyatt Neverwerks

-Hillary's Last Dance by Ben Thayer and Don That

-Mission Accomplished by Ugatta B. Kidden

-You're Gorgeous George! by Wendell Ites-Gowowt


...I'm sure you guys can think of some more. Come on! This'll be fun :)

My Own Fog

It was foggy today. It was a lingering, heavy fog. The forecast said it might blow off, it might not. It seems as though that same fog has infiltrated my heart of late. I don't know how to explain it really, but it's a heavy, lingering fog. It's a funny thing, fog. Each particle of mist, in and of itself is hardly discernible, but when they gang up and hold hands you can scarcely see your hand in front of your face.

Well, the particles have slowly been sneaking into my life, seemingly undetected, certainly not invited or properly addressed and they seem intent on making it hard to see anything clearly. And they're succeeding.

Not one day goes by where this sentence doesn't come into play at some point: "If I had loved well I wouldn't be here right now." Now, I realize that any good relationship is all about give and take...Simultaneously. So did I give too much? Did I take too little? Did I take too much? These questions haunt me. Will I ever get a definitive answer? No. But my empty house silently screams to me, "Why does it matter? The fact is, you failed." I have no answer. And a particle sneaks in.

I love my kids with all of my heart. If I had more heart I'd give them that too. My 15 year old son has a beautiful heart buried in confusion and anger. He has been the source of more frustration in my life than I thought was possible. We misunderstand each other gravely. Nothing hurts like being misunderstood by someone you love. My intentions for him are filled with a deep love reserved for my children, yet through his eyes I look like the devil's brother. Nothing I do or say seems to matter. The fog thickens.

I'm alone. Duh. That's why I'm spilling pathetic, forlorn words out into the internet. As pathetic as it sounds, I'm downright lonely sometimes. I walk around here singing schmaltzy songs that make me laugh. Songs about candy corn and Snickers and in the background a lonely candle flickers (see. I told you they were schmaltzy!) . You see, I realize that I'm nothin' extraordinary. If anything, I'm extraordinarily ordinary, but I have a heart to give away. I firmly believe that a heart can't be won...It must be given. I want to sing schmaltzy songs and laugh and dance and hold hands and enjoy being myself with someone while we give our hearts away to each other. But I'm still afraid of failing; of misunderstanding; of being misunderstood; of not getting through. I'm paralyzed in the fog.

The fog is thick. Tomorrow's forecast says it might blow off, it might not.

Life out the door

I used to wonder as a kid, what my dad saw and thought and did during a day at work. Maybe someday my kids will wonder the same thing, so I take my camera with me sometimes to chronicle the what I saw part of my day. These last few weeks we've been blessed with some enormously beautiful days. Here's a sampling of what I get to look at out the open door of my truck.












Isn't it perrrrty?












Maybe even...artistic?

Herkimer!

About a year ago, two of my three brothers and I took a 2 and 1/2 week vacation to the East coast. Originally we had planned to visit our 'mother land'--The Netherlands--however, when fuel prices started their way up the escalator we decided to try something different. Something we had never done before. All of us are very fond of driving and road trips but the thought of driving all the way out to the friggin' other side of the country was a bit much. So, instead we found some last minute deals to D.C. which we thought would be a nice place to start a road trip.

We had a few 'must see' spots picked out like, Gettysburgh, Cooperstown, New York City, and of course, upstate New York to view the foliage. Other than that we had no real itinerary. We're all pretty good at wingin' it.

The original plan had us renting a Jeep. (Jeeps are manly ya know ;) Well, original plans rarely come to fruition do they? All that was left when we stepped into the rental pickup point was...a minivan!! Yeah, also quite manly. As it turned out though, it was great. Although it was never a point we had to prove, it seems that it's not illegal to drive with both sliding doors open. Even on the freeway! Anyway, as luck would have it, or more specifically, as it is when you're the youngest sibling, I got the back seat most of the time which was really fine with me since I was also in possession of a New York Atlas and Gazetteer. Yay. I love maps. So as we're bookin' along the backroads of nowhere, I shouted out from the back seat, "Herkimer!" To which, both of my brothers slowly turned their heads in my direction and and said, "What??!!" Maybe that was a question that they regret to this day. "Herkimer! (which is the name of a small town we had just passed.) Doesn't that sound like something New Yawkahs would say? I mean, c'mon! Hukimah. Her-kimer flattop, Her-kimer gooovin' up slowly..." I could sing the whole thing here for ya but, you know. Or not. Ah, but I digress. So even now, a year later, when I want to let one of my brothers know I'm thinking about them I'll either text the word or leave it on their voicemail--'Herkimer!"

By the way, if you're really bored you might want to read more. The trip was a first for us in many ways, not the least of which was our first foray into blogging. Here it is

a leaf

The wind which had coursed through my veins for the past few weeks finally got the best of me. Try as I might, with all my might, I could hold on no longer. So let go I did and had I but known what a ride I was in for, I'd have done so much sooner. On the wind I spun and twirled and danced with delight to a destination unknown. And in the midst of my dizzying fall, me in all my color, I glanced back to see the others left hanging. Green. With envy.

And Sometimes...

...I SUCK AT BLOGGING!!!

Sometimes I think too much

Sometimes I feel too little

Sometimes I'm tired

Sometimes I'm tired of being tired

Sometimes I hide away

Sometimes I let my mind wander

Sometimes I think of you

Sometimes I cry

Sometimes I'm melancholy

Sometimes I'm just plain cheesy

Sometimes I'm full of longing

Sometimes I'm content

Sometimes my heart is singing

Sometimes it just hurts

Sometimes you think you know me

Sometimes I wish you did

Sometimes I crave solitude

Sometimes I am lonely

Sometimes I understand you

Sometimes I'm confused

Sometimes I'm inspired

Sometimes I am paralyzed



Sometimes I am all of these all in one day...like today.

Summer and what it looks like when it's winding down....














































...in my little world.

The Post In Which I Feebly Try To Describe The Indescribable

I have this friend, her name is Steph.

I don't even know if I can begin to do justice to even a portion of what she means to me, but I'm going to give it a fair shake right here and now, because she has inspired me to.

She doesn't know it, but this morning as I was reading (a practice she has unwittingly thrust me into) I looked over at my nightstand and there, perched atop a stack of books that, before I knew her, would simply not have been there, I eyed a little blue booklet. It's a booklet she gave me once when I came to visit her. It's beautiful. You know what's beautiful about it? It is completely handmade by her. She made the paper. She bound it with silky blue ribbon. She attached a handmade ornament on the front. She then filled it with some of her favorite quotes by people like Shakespeare, Thoreau, Frost and even Dave Barry. All of them handwritten in, I might add, beautiful sweeping cursive penmanship the likes I've never seen. I'm not exaggerating when I say it's an absolute keepsake! And you know what makes it a keepsake? It's what moved me this morning when I saw it, to hold it in my hands and read it through twice and be warmed by this thought: It's a piece of her. She put thought and effort into every last detail of it. Right down to the fact that she left the last few pages empty so that I might finish it with my favorite quotes. That's just how she is. She cares well.

Have I mentioned that she's funny? Or smart? Or pretty? Or real? Or compassionate? Or witty? Or more wonderfully different than anybody that I know?? Well then, let me mention that NOW! This woman has a perspective that is...well, indescribable. One of my favorite things she has ever said about herself to me is this, "I rarely have a bad hour, much less a bad day." And I've found it to be absolutely true. This one thing about her has, more than almost any other thing, been my saving grace. It's not that I never have a bad hour or a bad day anymore, but somehow when I'm getting down, I think of her and I can't help but smile (if not laugh) with delight, and it pulls me out of almost certain doldrums. She is the smile of God!...with attitude. It's not a benign, or slapped-on smile either. It is as real as her soul because that's where it comes from. There's nothing fake about it. Even without knowing it at times, she has this way of finding something good about a person and accentuating it. She would probably deny that, but that's because she has a tendency not to see herself the way I do. I guess that's only fair because I have the same tendency when it comes to how she sees me. She builds me up when life tries to tear me down. Did I mention that she's amazing?

I would be remiss if I didn't say that she loves her God with all her heart and coming in at a close second are her two spectacular girls. There's nothing more precious than the way she calls them 'baby'. Nothing.(I love them both and they are darlings.) I've been lucky enough to witness both of her first loves first hand. One of my favorite pictures of her is planted at that spot in my heart where I hide things that I treasure. Suffice it to say that I've seen parts of her soul...And I am in awe. I cherish and treasure (CAT;) her more than mere words can describe.

However, there is one thing that I simply hate and it is this: She lives so damn far away!! I'm a communicative kind of a guy (just ask her how many ridiculous text messages she gets every stinkin' day!!) and there's something that emails and texts and even phone calls can't deliver. I think a good friendship deserves that one thing: presence. I hope to experience it again soon.

Very soon.

Just...A Little

My youngest son is 12 years old. In many ways he's a lot like most 12 year old boys. He loves baseball (Gee, I bet you didn't see that one coming!), he's the catcher because "I'm in on every single play." He loves soccer, he gets queasy at the thought of girls, and he could eat pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

In many ways he very, very different from most 12 year old boys. He's a voracious reader. I'm talkin' serious here. I got him the full set of The Chronicles of Narnia for Christmas (767 pages), he had it read in 3 days. And if that's not crazy enough, he LOVES to read history books. I mean history text books. He knows more about what's going on in the world than almost anyone I know. Last year his sister headed of to college at Washington State and one night late in the fall we got a phone call from her. She asked to speak to her brother (who was 11 at the time) to ask him the name of a particular General in a battle in the Civil War. His quote to her was: "You need to pay better attention! Everybody knows it was General such and such !" He had read her entire senior History text book the year prior-just for fun-he says.

He also loves politics. Sometimes when I have to leave him home while I run quickly to the store I'll let him watch TV to wile away the time. Invariably, when I get home I can see him flipping back and forth between CNN and Fox News. He loves the stuff! He can tell you all 9 of the Justices on the Supreme Court and who they were appointed by. He can tell you who voted which way on many major trials and who was the swing vote and on and on. Justice is in his soul. He and I argue vehemently on many political issues. I sometimes play the devil's advocate just to see if he's thought out his position. He's a bright boy. While other boys are playing X-Box or Gamecube, he's thinking about whether the U.N. is a viable entity. Seriously.

Not long ago he amazed even me when were driving down the road. He was looking out the window, seemingly counting clouds rush by, when he astonished me with this: "Dad, did you know that the fifth amendment basically says you can remain silent as to not incriminate yourself, and the fifth commandment basically says you should always tell the truth. Right? Well don't you think it would be better if more people, instead of invoking the fifth amendment (yes, this is how he speaks), knew they had to invoke the fifth commandment? (long silence)...Ironic, don't you think?"

He aspires to be a judge someday. Pretty cool don't you think?

Full Circle

I'm lucky enough to have a job where I get to ride around, both doors open, wind in my hair, gawking and imagining and generally being curious about many things. I get to be a moving part in a mostly fixed world. Houses, roads, ocean, sky all fixed in their positions and me, wandering through, fixing my gaze on the other movements.

Today I saw a little boy in a red baseball cap, riding his bike with his baseball glove slid onto his handlebars. I couldn't help but wonder where he was headed. What would happen when he got there? How would he remember today? I imagined the rest of his day and thought, Ahh, now that's the life!

Then I saw two men, probably in their late 50's early 60's, driving in a beat-up old Chevy truck. Fishing poles jutting out over the edge. Rubber boots and tackle boxes lined up neatly under the cab window. I found myself wanting to know where their fishing hole would be today. What a great day to go fishing! I pictured a few spots I would choose if I were them. I wondered if the fishing was really the point today. I thought to myself, Ahh, now that's the life!

Later I saw a man and his son in an enclosed tractor out in a field, pulling a 5 bottom rollover plow. The dad was standing next to his son, who was driving. It seemed he was pointing at gauges and controls and explaining to his boy what each gauge indicated and what the levers were for. A father and a son. A teacher and a pupil. What a sweet relationship that might be, I thought. And once again my loudest thought cried out, Ahh, now that's the life!

Still later, I saw man and a woman that must have been 80 years old, if a day. They were shuffling slowly down a quiet street. Hand in hand. Stopping more than starting. Every flower seemed to spark a new conversation. I couldn't help but stop and take it all in. I was curious about their pace. Were they going slow because they wanted to or because they had to, I wondered. Does pace even matter when you're holding hands? Wouldn't it be nice not to care, I asked myself. And then I answered, Ahh, now that's the life!

.... and suddenly I could feel a pair of eyes behind me. It was a little boy on a bike, it could've been me. He was staring at me with his eyes glazed over and mouth agape in wonder as if to say, 'I wonder what his day is like. Driving around with his doors wide open, wind in his hair and generally getting to be curious about life.' I thought to myself, Ahh, now THIS is the life!

Are You Ready...

...Okay. Here goes. For the past three mornings I've come here to try to articulate things that are going on inside, but I just couldn't get them from down here (pointing at chest), to up here (pointing to space between ears).

Sadness is a part of life. It just is. Just like learning to hate brussel sprouts as a kid, is. Happiness is also a part of life. I 'm sure of it. In the same way as having to listen to your mom say, "They're good for you! Now eat them!", is.

So.

My previous post (since deleted) essentially said--I'm sad. It was a simple statement of fact. I could have just as easily said that I hate brussel sprouts, but then all three of you would have finally been convinced of that suspicion you've had all along--this guy has totally lost it! But really I haven't. Let me explain it.

The first part of my sad state has to do with my daughter heading back to school. It seems like just a few weeks ago that she came home for the summer. I had so looked forward to summer so we could reconnect and spend some time together--just to be. Well, she got a good job that kept her quite busy and, of course, she has a pile of friends that filled in the waking hours between. Suffice it to say we didn't spend much time together at all, and the times we did get were either hurried or one of us seemed preoccupied, and now she's all the way across the state at school.

Secondly, yet more prominently, there was Sam. Sam is a friend of mine that is dying of cancer. He has been a friend of mine for the past four years. Another mutual friend of ours, Mark, had a great idea. An idea spurred by a comment from his mom at a funeral last year. She slid up next to Mark and whispered, "Isn't it funny how many people will take a day off to go to someone's funeral but how few of the same people would take a half hour to visit when the man was still alive?" It struck a chord with Mark. He decided not to let our friend Sam go without knowing who he impacted and how. He threw a party for Sam and even put an ad in the local paper telling any and all who cared that Sam was not doing well and could stand a little encouragement. Well, the party was a huge success. There were cakes that said, 'We Love You Sam", there were balloons, there were cards to sign and all tolled there were probably around 200 people there. Each one armed with a hug or a handshake or a kiss. While Sam's body is becoming frail and his outward strength diminished, his spirit is bouyed and his eyes shone like the sun.

So, in essence, I was sad that I was sad. There is SO much to be glad about. I have a beautiful-beyond-belief daughter, and I have friends that let me be significant to them and they actually kind of like me.

Now I'm happy.