Parking Lot Etiquette

The other day, I needed to make a quick stop at the grocery store for just one item. In the car with me were the twins and my dad, who was in town to spend some time with us and his new grandson. Wanting to get in and out quickly, I looked for a spot close to the door, and as I was driving down one aisle, I saw an open spot on the row directly next to us.

I sped up a little, careful to avoid parking lot pedestrians, and turned the corner with no other cars coming to take away my gem of a parking spot. However, as I got closer to the space, I noticed something that was hard to see from other vantage points. The large, black Suburban parked next to this space was across the parking lines, and was essentially taking up two spaces, thus rendering this space useless, except for maybe a motorcycle. Seeing as I left my Harley in my imagination, I had to move on.

As I slowly made my way further down the aisle, I noticed another spot just a few spaces away from the now-defunct Suburban-blocked space where I had originally intended to park. I began my left veer to make the wide right cut into the space only to discover that not one or two, but three grocery carts were left in the middle of the space by shoppers, leaving this space as equally un-useable as the other one.

Eventually, I found a space just short of a quarter-mile away from the entrance to the store. As I walked in from the lot, I noticed that the grocery carts that foiled my secondary plans to park were less than twenty feet away from one of the pre-arranged drop-off spots that the good people of Kroger put out there in order to avoid such a dastardly inconvenience as had occurred to me. Is it that difficult to walk the additional ten to twelve steps to put your cart away and therefore OUT of the way of other customers?

As far as the Suburban driver goes, there was plenty of room to back up and straighten out. If he or she didn’t notice that they were well over the line, then they shouldn’t be driving that thing to begin with. (By the way—this particular suburban didn’t have the distinguishing stickers on the back that clearly marks the same vehicle that a good friend of mine drives. You’re in the clear, J.)

The truth is, all of the people who were responsible for the improper placement of vehicles and carts probably didn’t even care that their actions were inconvenient and inconsiderate to others. In fact, there are many times when they simple things we observe demonstrate a growing lack of consideration for anyone else. DC Talk had a song a few years ago with a line that sums it up: “This disease of self runs through my blood, it’s a cancer fatal to my soul.”

Selfishness combined with a general sense of apathy is slowly taking over our culture. It seems like it’s not enough sometimes, but the best way to try to overcome that disaster is to go completely opposite in our actions. We should go out of our way, even the additional twenty feet, to make sure that what we do and say keep the feelings and circumstances of others in mind. Even if no person or being is around us at the moment of grocery cart deposit, someone will eventually be around. The other shoppers who need parking spaces and the attendants who have to collect the stray carts will appreciate our actions, even if they never know the identity of the ones who were thoughtful to their plight. Let’s double-check our parking spaces to make sure that we have used ONLY the one that is marked for us, and have left adequate room on either side for the mother shopping with her baby, who must open the door to remove the infant carrier from her back seat, or the elderly man who isn’t quite handicapped, but needs a bit of extra room so he can gain his balance upon exiting his vehicle.

If we continue to think of these “unknown” faces, and can encourage others to do the same, I think we can make just one of hundreds of small differences that will collectively make a huge impact on the world around us. Go ahead and do your shopping—but be warned, you never know who will notice your thoughtless actions and blog about them.

Guitar Journey

I love playing guitar. I’m not one of those guys who can sit for hours and hours every day and play and learn every famous lick and riff that has ever been on the radio, but mostly because I have other responsibilities, and the time in my life for that has passed.
However, it is still an activity that can bring about great relief and relaxation. (Especially if I had that PRS shown here...) If I am having a particularly stressful week, it’s nice to just be able to plug in my electric guitar, crank up the distortion and the volume, and go to town. Usually I play all 2 songs I know several times each. Then, I pretend that I know what I’m doing and try to make up some other stuff that entertains me. If you ever sat in on one of these little “personal jam sessions” then you probably wouldn’t be terribly impressed with my skills, and I’m okay with that.

The other day, I finally decided to sit down and learn the opening to a song I’ve liked since high school. It has always sounded so very impressive to me, and has fascinated me to no end. A few years ago on a clearance rack, I even discovered a guitar tablature book with this song in it, and bought it so I could learn this little part.

Finally, during my lunch break the other day, I pulled out the book and opened up the music. It looks really impressive on a page, because it’s a pattern of sweeping sixteenth notes that jump all over the neck of the guitar. I was immediately intimidated and started second-guessing myself. BUT, I can be stubborn at times, and I was determined to figure this out. After spending a few minutes kind of looking at what I was doing, I realized that it could be broken down and practiced a bit at a time. What it boils down to is a grand total of 2 measures of music, repeated 3 times. 32 notes in each run, for a grand total of 93 played notes. No, my math isn’t wrong—the final run varies and drops three of the notes.

After taking it nice and slow, I finally got my mind wrapped around where my fingers were supposed to land each time, and after only 15 minutes, I was able to move my hands to the right locations for every note. After a half-hour, I could play it from memory at half-speed. By no means is it as clean and pretty as on the CD, but I was happy with my progress, and look forward to getting better at it so as to not sound so lame the next time I go to Guitar Center and sample a floor model guitar.

One of the reasons I love guitar so much is that no matter how much I learn, there’s still more out there. Even if I were to become a Virtuoso at the thing, there would still be much to explore. I could practice and become so proficient as to be able to fill-in with a Jazz band, play a classical guitar concerto, or rock to loudest metal you’ve ever heard, but there would still be things I could learn to take my skill further and further.

Life as a Christian is similar, and obviously different. With a guitar, I feel like there’s no “Final Destination.” However, as a follower of Christ, I know where I’m going to be for eternity, and I am excited about that! The journey is what makes the two similar. I have been in church my whole life, and have been a believer for most of it. I guarantee there’s still SO much to learn; Not only intellectually, but in application, as well. Things I have heard since I was three may take on new meaning in my thirties. Lessons I learned when I was ten may not grab me until one day when I’m a grandfather. When I continue to open my heart to what God’s Word says, and stay willing to learn, I will go further and further in my understanding, which will unlock new mysteries and spark new interest in the things of God.

Like the versatile guitarist playing different styles of music, a Christian who continues growing and learning will find application in different areas of ministry, and will find new ways to put into practice the understanding and knowledge they have attained, and while listeners can be delighted at the sounds, God can be pleased with the music of our service to Him.

I’ll never be a Peter, Timothy, or Apostle Paul any more than I’ll be a Joe Satriani, Mark Tremonti, or Les Paul. But the truth is…I just need to be me. God will shape me into a unique instrument that makes music for His glory and to further His kingdom. Then, if by chance anyone should ever sit down and try to learn what I’ve done, my prayer is that they’ll simply be learning to let the Virtuoso Creator make His music through them as well.

Time Flies

In the past few months, I’ve been going through and interesting phase. I look in the mirror, and I see the same face I’ve seen for years. Of course, there have been some changes, but since I see myself every day, those differences come so gradually that it’s hard to pinpoint them as they’re happening. Probably because not all of those changes are physical, and will show up in a mirror!

I guess somewhere in the process of graduating college, getting a job, working full-time, getting married, having kids, and continuing to work, the time flew by fast enough, and I became a full-blown adult. According to law, I have passed most of the age-restrictions that are laid down in our country. (Accept for running for President, and that doesn’t matter as I’d never want that job!) The next ones I reach will be the ones that take me back to the discounted rates on coffee and meals!

My problem is that it’s been very hard for me to consider myself a “Grown up.” Maybe it’s because I work with teenagers and children. It could possibly be because I am younger than most of my staff colleagues. (But just barely!) I’ve thought about this, and I think the reason I struggle with it is because I have held the notion that “grown ups” have it figured out. All the adults I ever looked up to seemed to have a much stronger inkling of what was going on than I did. They always seemed to have an answer or have a system in place for getting them through tough times, and they certainly had more confidence in themselves than I felt.

When we are younger, we perceive things differently, and our memories are based on these perceptions. In college, I had the opportunity to visit a church we attended when I was still only four years old. In my mind, I remembered the sanctuary to be a very large, vast room with giant pews and huge windows. Sixteen years later, I discovered that the room was actually smaller than many church sanctuaries I had seen, and the pews were barely waist-high. The windows were still a pretty-good size, but not what I would consider “huge.” I remembered the room from a four-year-old perspective, where everything is larger. The room didn’t shrink, but as I grew, my perception changed, and made the room appear smaller than in my memories.

As a younger person, my perceptions of adults as were based on the fact that I didn’t always understand what was going on in the real world. I hadn’t the slightest awareness that small children running wild did cause unseen stress in the parents. It never occurred to me that my mentors may be just as confused about some issues as I was, and were just doing their best to help me stay on track.

Realizing that I’m now the one looking for the best encouragement to give the teenagers, and worrying about what church members will say about my children helps me to see things in an appropriate perspective. No, I don’t have it all together, but I certainly have numerous responsibilities. Each one of those represents individuals or groups who depend on me and trust me, and to earn that kind of trust, I must have done something right. I wish I could say that I was always very confident, but that’s not quite true. I do have faith that God will guide me, and will work to succeed even when I fail. If that brings about what others see as confidence, then it’s out of my hands. I hope to point people towards God, and as trite as that may sound, it’s the truth.

Bon Jovi’s song “Just Older,” says this: “Well, I look in the mirror, I don’t hate what I see, there’s a few more lines staring back at me…Like a favorite pair of torn blue jeans, this skin I’m in it’s alright with me, it’s not old…just older.”

Recognizing that I’m a “grown up” doesn’t mean I have to quit living young. I still ride all the roller coasters, and still play hard when we go to camp with the youth group. But, unlike myself even ten years ago, I understand more about my limits, and recognize the vastness of what I don’t know yet. There’s still a lot to learn, and as a “grown up,” I appreciate knowing that.

Through Smoke

I am a really big fan of the band Needtobreathe. If you don't know them, you should check them out. They've been around for awhile, and just keep getting better. That's my opinion, and I'm sticking with it! On their most recent album, they have a song called, "Through Smoke." The lyrics to this song sound to me like a cry from one who has a belief in God, and even when things in life get hazy through the smoke of confusion and doubt, they trust that God can find them anyway. (More artistic and poetic people might disagree, but we're all entitled to differing opinions!)

When I was a senior in high school, I worked as a cashier at Kmart. One evening, they moved me to the pharmacy to fill in for one of their usual pharmacy cashiers that was sick. I discovered just how little I knew about medicines and such! One particular story stands out in my memories of that day.

A lady that looked to be in her late 20's came back to the pharmacy department, and began to scan through and examine the different boxes containing all the gums, patches, and other systems designed to help people quit smoking. I very distinctly remember the look in her eyes as she turned to me after ten minutes of reading different packaging. She had a very real look of pleading, and almost desperation to her. She asked me if I knew which one would work the best or was most-recommended.

Admitting my ignorance, and trying to be understanding, I told her I'd ask the pharmacist. I stepped into his little area, and relayed the question. He stepped out and with almost a chuckle, told her that really they were all pretty much worthless and didn't do enough to really help. The best way to quit was just flat will power.

I felt horrible for this poor lady. Here she was, trying to quit an unhealthy habit, and looking to someone she thought she could trust for a little help, and probably even a little hope. Unfortunately, the phamacists was a bit cold and didn't seem to deliver on either of those. After he stepped away, she hesitantly picked one of the boxes and brought it over to my register. Attempting a smile, she said, "I guess I'll just try this one, and see what happens." She tried to sound positive, but even then, I could tell that she wasn't hopeful, no thanks to the pharmacists.

I rung her out, and wished her luck in quitting. It seemed like the right thing to do, and was a desperate attempt to show her some kindness after the "professional" was such a nay-sayer. After she walked away, I stepped back into the pharmacy booth to ask another question and discovered a horrifying event. While he was filling a prescription bottle, the pharmacist was actually smoking, and had a cigarette with almost an inch of ash hanging precariously from his lips. No wonder he didn't seem to offer much hope; he was a smoker himself! Unlike the lady who wanted to stop, this guy didn't seem to care, and obviously had no intention of quitting.

I learned two important lessons that night. The first was to never, EVER, have a prescription filled at this particular pharmacy. The second is that many times, people are desperately seeking help in finding freedom from the ensnaring patterns of sin in their lives. They look for answers, but only get more confused, filling their life with this smoke. When they have trouble making sense of all the solutions and just get further lost in the cloud, they ask for help. Unfortunately, many of the people who claim to be "professionals" in this matter are in no better position to help than the ones looking for freedom. They are in the same type of situation, but have justified being there so much that they become as smug and/or negative as that pharmacist!

We are all sinners, caught in the same net. There's no way of ignoring what scripture says of that. (Romans 3:23) But, God does forgive us in Christ (1 John 1:9), and helps us to throw off the sins that trap us. (Hebrews 12:1) Yes, Christians still make mistakes, but we know that we don't necessarily have to find our way out of the smoke. We just know that we can call on One who rises above the smoke and can find us, even when we can't see Him. We can be free from the permanent enslavement of sin and can experience forgiveness on a level unlike anything this world can offer.

If we know people who are looking for relief, we need to offer them an “introduction” to who we know. They will still have the choice to believe or deny what we share, but if we don’t try, they may never know. We never know which seed we plant will grow, but by trying, we are at least extending hope to those who have the look of desperation in their eyes. Who knows? We may have the privilege of watching them come to know The One who never loses sight of them through all of their smoke. What a breath of fresh air that will be!

Painted Days

We finally got around to doing some painting at our house. We moved in a few months ago, and I was convinced that with a few pictures and maybe some curtains and stuff, white walls were sufficient and looked nice. However, with a baby on the way, I agreed with my wife that a bit of paint in the nursery would help. After all, my other sons have posters of Batman, Transformers, and Pixar’s CARS all over the walls, so why shouldn’t the baby get some kind of decoration?

What started out as the baby’s room became a discussion about doing the family room as well. (I think I got suckered, but the jury is still out on that one.) Then, we decided that since we would have those two rooms, we might as well go ahead and connect them by painting the hallway in between them.

So, after two very long days of taping baseboards and ceilings--because I don’t trust my ability to stop exactly at the corner, and moving all kinds of furniture, and applying what ended up being a combination of 11 coats of paint to the walls, and then cleaning up all the rollers, brushes, and pans, and taking roughly 14 ibuprofen to deal with the “paint fume headache,” the job was done.

The first thing I thought about was how disappointing it was. NOT because it looked bad, but because of the exact opposite. It looked SO good that it made the remaining walls look pretty plain and institutional. I appreciate the new paint and really do like it a lot, but now I dread the standard that has been set in the house. (Disclaimer: I realize that anyone who now sees my house has their expectations lifted to way beyond what is currently real in our house. This is not my fault, and I can’t be held responsible if you don’t have the same tastes as my wife and me. Besides, we’re the ones who live there, not you.)

There are days in my life when I am incredibly productive at work, I am a prime candidate for the “Second-Best Father of All Time” with my kids, I make even the most hardened stranger smile with my warm greetings, and the days when I can do no wrong. Unfortunately, there are also days when I’d be lucky to pull off a mediocre rating on anything. The problem is when I compare the two days. The “okay” day only looks worse next to the really good day. Maybe I should stop the comparison…

No two days are alike. What happens on Monday cannot realistically be duplicated on Tuesday, because what happened on Saturday and Sunday affects Monday, and since you then must throw Monday in the mix that can change and sour or lighten you mood and distort your normal sleep routines causing a whole array of mental and synaptic irregularities, Tuesday simply cannot rationally be compared to or live up to the same standards and expectations Monday held. Therefore, one cannot logically use one day as a standard by which to measure the quality of another day. As the old saying goes, “It’s like comparing apples and Mack Trucks.”

The way I see it, each day is a gift anyway. I’m going to try and enjoy each day for what it is, and welcome the challenges that come my way as an opportunity to grow stronger and hopefully more wise. Yes, I drop that ball by 8:45 AM on many days, but I like to think of it as “dribbling.” Whatever your method to the madness, recognize that every morning is a new day, and while we all have different struggles, we have the choice to look for the blessings and lessons that God can give us through all circumstances, or we can pack it up and just sleep until tomorrow. Hopefully you’ll pull out your glasses!

Blessing in Room 473

Part of my job is taking a day to visit church members who might be in the hospital. I know, it sounds so impersonal when I say it like that. But the truth is, I KNOW that’s a part of this job and I have known it, and while it’s not something I consider myself to be really “good at,” I do enjoy the chance to visit with people.

Usually I just hope I don’t put my foot in my mouth accidentally, and pray that I didn’t embarrass myself too much. I can only hope that my visits bring a small measure of meaning to those that I go to see. Almost all the time, God is good, and my visits end up being a blessing for me—probably far more than the patients!

Today I had the privilege of seeing a couple. The husband was in the hospital, and his wife was there with him, doing her part to take care of him. At first, a nurse was in the room getting this gentleman set up with some kind of breathing treatment. As a result, he couldn’t actually talk for the first ten minutes I was there, but I promised him I’d wait until he was done so I could talk with him, too.

By the end of the visit, I knew several things about this couple that impressed and inspired me. For starters, they have been married for sixty-six years. In today’s world, that’s saying much, and sets a great example for younger married couples.

I learned that this particular gentleman served his country and was active in World War II. I have always admired and appreciated those who serve in the armed forces. I support all of our active troops as well as veterans through the years. These men and women take on the mantle of service, and many times are put into situations and areas where they would not choose to visit in any stage in life, but because of their pledge, they go where the orders lead. Regardless of our political views and whether or not we agree with the decisions made, we should always offer our support and thanks for the men and women who put themselves in harm’s way to protect our American way of life.

Two times in his 70’s, this man bicycled his way across the County. Once from California to Florida, and the other time from California to New England. Both trips were completed in under 50 days. I wonder if I can even bicycle for 50 minutes without collapsing!

During the conversation, this couple mentioned all the time they spend with their great-grandchildren. I believe they are truly blessed to have such close relationships with their family, and are physically healthy enough to stay involved. (Don’t let the hospital visit fool you, it was a temporary set-back, but this couple still stays active!)

In general, this visit served to remind me that life is a gift from God. No area of it should be taken for granted, and we should certainly not squander our days whining about what we don’t have. Instead, we should look for blessings everywhere, and take our definition of “blessing” out of the box, and allow ourselves to receive whatever form or fashion of blessing God sends our way.

Today, I was blessed with the opportunity to visit a wonderful couple in the hospital. Can’t say I woke up expecting to find a blessing there—but will go to bed tonight remembering it, and thanking God for it!

Taste the Difference

This morning, I got into an interesting discussion with one of my 5-year-olds. I was in the process of fixing my lunch to take to work with me. The only time I can squeeze this in is while my boys are eating their breakfast. Today, they were sitting on stools at the counter where I was putting together my lunch.

As it turns out, today is leftover day. BUT, unlike some other times, I was really looking forward to this one. My wife fixed a pork roast the other day, and because she is a brilliant cook, it always tastes wonderful. She slow-cooks it all day in the Crock-pot, and by the time we get home, it literally falls apart and melts in your mouth. She doesn’t use too much seasoning, because the method of preparation retains much of the natural flavor of the pork, and keeps it nice and tender. Is your mouth watering? It should be.

So, today, I’m scooping the rest of the pork from one large container into a smaller container that will fit in my lunch bag. Then, because I am a NUT for spicy food, and because I feel less guilty about it with leftovers than with first-run meals, I poured some buffalo wing sauce into another container to pour over the pork after I’d reheated it in the microwave at work. Yeah—I know! AWESOME!

While I’m pouring the sauce, my son looks at me and says, “What is that, daddy?” So I told him, “Buffalo Sauce. It’s really spicy!” I figured he and his brother would then go off on a tangent about the spicy part of the statement. Instead, they laughed and said, “Buffalo!” Over and over. (They are five, they are boys—it’s what they do.) Finally, one of them said, “Is it made from Buffalo?” I explained that it was called that because the sauce was first made in a city called Buffalo, New York. (It’s True. LOOK IT UP!)

After my dissertation on the origins of Buffalo sauce, and my comments to the grand and wonderful culinary delight one experiences upon eating Buffalo sauce, the first one said, “I’ll just call it Barbeque sauce.” Now, as one who has an appreciation for both of the sauces, I realized that this was a total faux-pas, and must be corrected. RIGHT! Try telling a 5-year-old anything. Needless to say, we just had to agree to disagree on that point, but there will come a day, when they are ready, that I will introduce the boys to the joy and bliss that is Buffalo sauce.

Anyway, this got me thinking. How many times do we try to explain a positive idea or experience we’ve had to someone who has never been through the same thing? Isn’t it interesting that we get frustrated when they don’t seem to “get it?” Or worse—when they just flat out disagree, even when they’ve never had the same experience.

I have heard stories of people who try to share their faith with others, only to have them misunderstand what they are talking about, or not even be willing to listen, because they just know it’s “not for them.” When we talk about our experiences as followers of Christ, we are taken to a place where our emotions and memories are stirred, and telling the story is much like reliving an event. It can be an uplifting experience. But, we can’t expect others who have never shared in this same thing to just come on board and immediately be as gung-ho and excited as we are.

I have found with my boys that when it comes to food, it doesn’t really work to say repeatedly with greater and greater force, “Oh come on, you’ll like it!” It also doesn’t work to tell them how excited my mouth gets with some of my favorite foods. Instead, I simply put a small amount on my fork, let them see it, give them a chance to smell it, and then make this offer, “I really think you would enjoy tasting this. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to try anymore.” It sounds a bit silly and elementary, but it works much of the time.

I wonder if there’s a similar approach to sharing our faith with others? I think if we become the “small taste” of what it means to be a Christian by the way we love and treat others, we stand a greater chance of successfully inviting them to try one worship service, or to attend a Bible Study with us for that first time. If they see the joy we have and experience the love we can share, then it becomes a real, even if tiny, experience of what we hope they will come to know for themselves.

The other thing I feel like we do poorly is to give people permission to reject our invitations. I know that popular teaching is that “Today may be the last day of your life!” I understand that, and I do know the urgency. BUT, unfortunately, with some people, that just comes across as nagging and judgmental. We don’t need to lay a guilt trip on them if they don’t have a positive experience at our church. We need to reaffirm our commitment to the friendship, and continue to allow them the tiny experiences through us. We can tell them stories about what we did, express our reactions to powerful worship services, and even introduce them to other believers who can offer the same warmth and welcoming attitude. (But, you don’t want to intimidate them, so go easy on that last part!)

The truth is, some people will never agree to agree with us on anything from spiritual beliefs to buffalo sauce and ice-cream being equal parts of nectar from heaven. All we can do is provide the opportunities for them experience what we have. Sometimes it takes patience and waiting for the appropriate time. My sons are NOT ready for wing night at the house, but in a few years, and much to the dismay of my wife, that may be one of our weekly bonding times. For now, I’ll just have to let them call it Barbeque, since they have never experienced the difference, anyway!

Sometimes I wonder...

Sometimes, I wonder why I even try to, well, try. When I was working at a church in Knoxville, TN, our church was located one block from a Texaco Gas station with a mini-mart. One afternoon, our deacon chairman happened to be doing some work at the church and told us he was walking to the Texaco to get a snack. Just a few minutes after he left, it started raining. Feeling bad, I hopped in my car and drove to the station to pick him up so he wouldn’t get caught in the rain. I got there as he was checking out, and he declined the offer, having thought to bring an umbrella. So, I got in the car to leave. As I was backing up (Since someone else had illegally parked in front of me), I didn’t notice the concrete post that was about two feet tall just behind the right side of my car. I turned the wheel in order to get out, and cracked my bumper on the post. The chairman came out and saw what happened, and so I offered him a ride one more time. Can you believe that he still turned me down?

At another point in my life, I was helping one of the dads at my church coach his daughter’s U8 soccer team. As practice finished one day, we were kicking goals while waiting on parents to pick up their kids. The girls asked if I could kick it from midfield. Being a U8 field must have made me forget that I’m really not that good, because I tried. As soon as I committed to kick the ball and had my leg in the forward motion, one girl saw her dad and took off across the field to get to him. I knew it was going to happen before it did. SMACK! The ball hit her square in the gut and knocked her over. Fortunately, she just got the wind knocked out of her, but I was devastated, and felt horrible for the rest of the season!

Recently, we finally bought a house, and the both of the bathrooms needed updated light fixtures. I managed to replace the one in our boys’ bathroom in just a manner of about ten minutes, with NO problems. Unfortunately, when I got to the Master bathroom, it didn’t work out so well. After a good 6 or 7 hours of wiring, flipping switches, re-wiring, throwing shoes and other reachable items, and re-wiring yet again, I got desperate and called some friends. Luckily one of our good church friends brought over a voltage meter. Turns out, the wiring for the bathroom was backwards, and I wouldn’t have known about it without the meter. It’s always the simple things…

After these events, and many others like them, it should have come as no surprise when we had a leak in our sink this past week. We discovered it on Thanksgiving day, and I promised not to even attempt until Saturday when the family was gone. Without going into too many details, let’s just say that I visited Home Depot twice, and Taylor Do-It Center once. I fixed the leak in the original spot, but created a new one. On my second trip to Home Depot, the third trip of the day, I was pulling in and saw a car in a close spot pulling out. I stopped to let that car out, and they, in turn, waited for the people walking to get by before backing up. I waited just about a minute and a half, and as I finally had a clear shot, I pulled forward in time to see that a white convertible Mustang with Royal blue racing stripes had pulled through the other head-to-head spot, and pulled into the spot for which I had been waiting.

I pulled forward enough to see who was there, and two college-aged girls were in the front seats. I saw the driver look at me, and I kind of made some motions with my hands while mouthing the words, “Come on! I was waiting for that one!” She looked back at me and shrugged her shoulders and gave a goofy grin, which I took to mean, “Too bad sucka! You lose and I Win!” All she had to do was put it in reverse and back up. But, nope, she and her friend got out laughing (at me, I’m sure) and walked into the store. I eventually found another spot, but I was fuming after the day I’d had. By the way, I had one of my sons in the car with me. Which is good, because at this point, I might have lost my cool completely if I’d been alone.

Finally parked, I reached up to grab the interior door handle, and two things happened when I pulled it. The first was that the door opened. How nice and predictable in my day of madness. The second thing to occur was that the door-handle snapped and bent awkwardly backwards, dangling by a small thread of plastic. Just what I wanted! A “Dukes of Hazzard” style Camry where I had to either climb in the window, or roll the thing down, reach outside and pull the handle out there to get the door opened. It was NOT the greatest day of achievement for me.

HOWEVER, in the midst of all the failure and frustration, my wife mentioned something to me. She pointed out that in spite of all the bad luck and irritation I seemed to have heaped on me, I kept it together pretty well. I have been known to allow my frustration to get the best of me from time to time. I have actually thrown things across the room and pounded on walls as if they were the very culprits causing all my trouble. But this time, before I even started, I decided that no matter what, I was NOT going to repeat past tirades. The words from my wife reminded me that I didn’t get to that point. There was one cabinet door that got a one-time smack, but other than that, I did okay, and I felt pretty good about it.

There are not a lot of deeply spiritual lessons here. I’m sure there are Pages of teachable moments that my moments of “trying to help” create, but on this occasion, I simply say this: Sometimes, when you think about your tendency to blow it, and you decide ahead of time that this time you will keep it together, you set your attitude at a higher point than before, and it can stay there. Our emotions do not control us—we choose to give in. Maybe next time I’m facing a potentially frustrating situation, I’ll remember this and somehow add some length to my otherwise short fuse.

Lessons in Thankfulness

You know, being thankful isn’t always easy. Not because there’s nothing for which to be grateful, but because many times I catch myself being a bit too selfish, and spending time focusing on the things that I want and don’t have. As a result, I fail to see the blessings in the fact that I have everything that I need, and much, much more.

My sons are a blessing to me because they teach me so much. In the last few days, they’ve taught me two good lessons. One directly and one around and about just a bit, but still very valuable.

As we were driving home from their pre-school last week, we came up to an intersection where a young man was standing with a cardboard sign informing the passers-by that he was stranded and hungry while trying to travel. My first inclination was to ignore the guy, while feeling that pang of guilt and uncertainty over what to do. Should I give to him, or is he lying and just going to waste it. Conventional wisdom tells me that so many scam artists get suckers like me to fall for them. Spiritual wisdom reminds me that I can’t always accurately judge the honesty of a situation based on appearances. In other words, I still didn’t know what to do!

It only took a few seconds for the boys to see the guy and to ask what He was doing. I told them that the sign he had said he needed some help to get some food and to get where he was going. One of them asked, “Do we have food for him?” Honestly, there are times we have a few snacks in the car, but this was not one of them. I said that we didn’t have any food, and they said, “Do we have any help for him?” I wasn’t really sure how to answer that. I had a few dollars, but was still stuck between my soft heart and judgmental mind. The light turned green and we ended up moving forward beyond the guy and his sign. Fortunately, the story doesn’t end here.

As soon as we passed, the boys said, “Why didn’t we help him?” It only took a micro-second before I said, “You know what, we ARE going to help.” I made a U-turn at the first available place, pulled out my wallet and grabbed the few singles I had. We ended up being first at the red light on the opposite side of the intersection, and as the light changed we slowly crossed and pulled up next to the guy. I handed him the money and simply said, “Excuse me, it’s not much, but I hope it helps.”

The simple questions of the boys reminded me that at that point, it was not my place to worry about whether or not the guy was legitimate. In fact, the point to the whole thing was not that I helped the guy, but that I took a chance to teach my children that when we are able, giving help to someone is not a bad thing to do. We have so much, and we need to be happy about what we have. Some people don’t have a lot, and when we can, we should help. Even if the guy scammed us, my boys learned the value of sharing that day. I learned the value of making the most of “teachable moments” about giving.

The other indirect lesson came from their recent birthday. (Twins, remember?) There were so many cards and gifts that came to the house that my wife and I were not even sure there was anything we needed to get them. Not only that, but with Christmas so close, we were getting calls from family members telling us all of the gifts that were already purchased in advance, and it made me begin to wonder how long it will be before they are totally spoiled rotten with a “gimme, gimme” mentality.

The truth is, I love to get my boys gifts. I am a sucker for a sweet face and a polite, “Please?” But, I also see how many people in the world have so little. How often do I push my own children towards a materialistic world view with all the gifts and “stuff” I get for them? They know I love them—they don’t need gifts to convince them.

This experience taught me that restraint in gift-giving may need to be exercised. My wife and I have talked about it, and are thinking about ways to scale back and open the boys’ eyes to the value of appreciating and being thankful for what they have. I know they’re only five, so believe me, we’ll change the wording a bit, but if we approach this on a simplified and applicable level for them, they can begin to learn and develop a self-less foundation that will help them (and hopefully others) in the long run.

Both of these lessons deal with giving and recognizing the needs of others. Maybe I’m just dealing with a bit of “seasonal guilt,” but I would rather think that God is just getting my attention on this matter. I am praying about how to put this into practice in my own life, and trying to let go of the countless and needless “wants” with which I wrestle.

It’s important to understand that God does not deal with everyone the exact same way. But, His TRUTH is the same. Scripture clearly says that we cannot serve both God and possessions. (Matthew 6:24) There’s nothing wrong with having money and nice things. But, if we are doing all we can to accumulate them, and ignoring the opportunity to share with others or missing chances to set the example in giving, then maybe we should examine where our priorities lie. I know that I need to re-shuffle mine a bit, and I am working on it. If you are one who is generous, keep it up, and look for new ways to inspire others to join you. If you need to open your heart and wallet a bit, pray and ask God to show how you can best use your resources to serve Him. You won’t regret it, and you just might be a blessing to someone else!

Strep Struggles

I spent several days last week on my back due to a horrible threat to mankind known as “Strep Throat.” I’m convinced that this little illness is actually a dark demon in disguise, doing what he can to strip his victims of morale, quality of life, and body heat—which is strange, since I actually had a fever. Fortunately, a great and mighty Angel named “Amoxicillin” swept in and put up a valiant fight against the dark enemy, and defeated him in a matter of a few days.

Okay, so I’m a bit over-the-top. I know it, I’m okay with it, so let’s move on. Actually, I usually tend to be a bit of a weenie when it comes to being sick, so this time, I really tried to just deal with it positively, and not let it get the best of me. I thanked my wife for taking care of me, I still did what I could as the Tylenol and Advil helped out, which included putting sheets on the boys’ beds, giving them baths two of those days, and even washing a few dishes. (Apparently, helping to prepare dinner is not advised when you have a contagious illness. Go figure.)

I actually found myself saying to myself in my inner-monologue, which can be rather entertaining when you get sick, that “even though you feel so bad now, this WILL be over in just a few days.” Usually I lean towards the “WHY, GOD, WHY?! Why did You let me get so deathly ill? What have I done to YOU to deserve this?” type of mentality. I already admitted that I’m a lousy patient, so get off my case.

The truth is, once I determined to simply get over myself, take the needed rest, and keep a temporary mindset about being sick, I can’t say I enjoyed it, but it certainly helped it to not be so bad. I just chilled out (fever joke), drank lots of water, and kept myself occupied with reading, snoozing, and watching a bit of TV.

Being sick is a lousy comparison to some of the other difficult things that can hit us in day-to-day living, but I do think that there is something to be said for determining your mindset before anything ever happens. I’m not one who believes that you need to be happy with everything happening to you or it means that your faith is weak. I leave that for the TV guys who tell you that then charge you $49.95 for a hanky they sneezed in and offered it to you (for a price) because it comes with a blessing.

I do believe that if we could somehow remind ourselves that no matter what comes our way, we don’t have to go through it alone, we have a better chance of pushing through with our faith intact, and our sanity remaining stable. God tells us on more than one occasion in scripture that He “…Will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Deut. 31:6, 8, Joshua 1:5.) Jesus said that He is with us “Always,” even to the “…end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20) With the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe promising to be with us, we have the resources available to keep hope in the hardest of times, and perseverance when it seems that the end is not in sight.

Sometimes I worry that I get too trite, or send the wrong message. I wish I could say that everyone who experiences any illness or hard time will definitely get over it and move on into happy times. I know that’s not always the case. But, I have met many people who kept their hope and trust in God even in the face of the most difficult and lasting of circumstances, and I can attest that those people were still able to experience blessings and life in SPITE of their current situation. That’s hope that can only come from God, and it can be found when we determine that we WILL find it, no matter what the world or life tells us, because we have a personal relationship with The One who is the Source of all Hope.