With all the talk about California having little input on the presidential primary race, with the nominee almost always being decided before our primary comes due, I am glad about one thing; we are not first. Can you image living in Iowa for the past few months? One can hardly imagine the amount of direct mail campaign flyers you must have received by now. If everyone in Iowa saved them, and put them in a pile to burn, you could probably see the fire from space. How about the radio and television political ads? I would imagine the sales of iPods and subscriptions to Netflix have doubled in Hawkeye state just to avoid broadcast radio and television until after the caucuses January 3.
Mitt Romney is a liberal Massachusetts politician with a dangerous religion. Newt Gingrich is a liberal Washington lobbyist with three wives. Ron Paul is a crazy old coot, emphasis on the crazy part. Rick Santorum is Tim Tebow without the athletic ability, etc.
I am paraphrasing these adds, but I'm sure that these are the messages that are getting out to the voters. As with all politics, we cannot overlook the fact that a good number of people do not pay that much attention to the candidates, and just vote based on what they hear at the coffee shop, at work, or at home. Which maybe why Mitt Romney will be the Republican nominee for President in 2012.
Before you go sending me emails about Romnecare, and all the other conservative sins Mitt has committed in the past, I will just tell you this. He is a known quantity. Unlike the numerous "Soup of the day" candidates whose meteoric ascendency to the top of the polls have all been followed with a free fall crash, Mitt Romney has never been everyone's darling. Mitt is pure vanilla. Scratch that, if there is an unflavored ice cream flavor, it should be named after the former Massachusetts governor.
Mitt is about as exciting as finding three, one dollar bills in your coat pocket; sure its nice, but it's only three bucks. Herman Cain and Rick Perry were like finding a two hundred dollar bill in your coat pocket, only to realize that we don't print two hundred dollar bills, and that they are probably worthless. I think the Gingrich campaign will suffer a death by a thousand cuts. He has said way too many outrageous things,
taken money from some questionable sources, especially from a
conservative's point of view, and frankly the three marriages do say
something about his character.
Just for full disclosure, I voted for Mitt Romney in the 2008 primary here in California. Not that I was enthusiastic supporter, I just could not vote for "the maverick" John McCain. To be sure, there are plenty of things that make me squirm a bit about Romney. Sometimes, when I hear him talk, I have flashbacks of Arnold Schwarzenegger, and the wish-washy, global warming, ever-increasing government, brand of Republicanism that I have grown to loathe.
The one thing I would bet on is there will be no female co-worker from Mitt's past, coming forward to claim an affair, or that he was busted for cocaine possession in the nineties. He is a clean cut all-American guy, looking to do good. Maybe that, along with his religion, is why the left hates him so. He is not my ideal candidate, but he is a proven quantity. There are no surprises with Mitt.
He is the nice, average looking girl you know will say yes when you ask her to go to the prom, after all the popular, semi-trashy ones shoot you down. You know you will not get past first base, but you will have a good time at the dance, get some nice photos for your mom, and not pick up an STD. (How's that for a ringing endorsement?)
Now, Mitt can give a good stump speech, and he knows how to wind up a conservative crowd, but I know deep down that he will play ball when he gets to Washington. He knows he will have cut a few deals, sign bills he opposes, and water down ones he likes, to get anything through the Democrats in the senate. I know this full well, and that gives me a leg up on the people who voted for Barack Obama last time around. They actually thought that he was going to change the nation, change the world, and make their lives better. I have no such illusions. I am just looking for someone who will do the least amount of harm.
Would I like to have another choice? Sure. The candidate that I most closely agree with, in terms of policy, is Rick Santorum. Will he have a chance to be the anti-Romney choice coming out of Iowa? I think he might. He may grab a surprise third place finish in Iowa, stay alive past New Hampshire, where his pro-life stance will hurt him, and make it onto South Carolina where he may catch a second wind. It's a long way to the nomination, I just think slow and steady wins the race, and the epitome of slow and steady is Mitt Romney.
So we only have a few more days until the Iowa Caucuses, much to the relief of Iowans. Who will come out the winner, who will drop out, will anyone care? Stay tuned.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Three prayers
I was standing in a waiting room of the south tower at UC Davis Med Center; I was tired of sitting. I had been there for most of the past two days. It was a clear day, a warm day in May. The sun filled the room with light, fighting back against the dullness of the florescent bulbs. My wife was with me, along with my sister and mother. I remember the blue striped shirt my wife was wearing that day. It's strange what your mind holds on to all these years later. I remember I was praying, praying hard.
I remember hearing the overhead page for the Code Blue. It's the call they use to say someone is dying, come quick. That had been two hours ago. I remember praying to God that he let my father live. Let him live, and I promise I will change, I will be good from now on. I could not imagine life without my father; he was such a big part of my life. My mind was running countless scenarios where my father pulled through and my life would go on in a way I understood. Please Lord, don't let him die. I'll do anything you ask, please don't let him die.
I knew by the look on the doctor's face my father didn't make it. It was not a sad look, or the look of apprehension about telling a family the bad news. The doctor had the look of a man who had been fighting hard to save a life for the past two hours, and had lost the battle. I had so many feelings coursing through my body. I felt this numbness, I guess it is like being in shock. I could hear my heart pounding audibly as my mind raced. Why God? Why?
I was in my mid twenties at the time, married to my wife of almost three years, and completely dependent on my father.
Since high school, I had worked for him. I had worked on our cattle ranches, and had just received my real estate license to work at his real estate business. Not only had I just lost my father, I had just lost my employer and benefactor. As we drove home from the hospital that day, I couldn't help but thinking how God had let me down. Didn't he know that I was on my own now? What was I going to do? How was I going to pay for the house I just built? Why would he do this to me when he could have just saved my father and made my life so much easier? Why?
Although I had been a Christian for most of my adult life, I had walked far away from God over the years. In fact, my life looked nothing like the walk Christ would want me to have. I had little responsibility, little thought for others, my life was all about me and what I wanted. Prayer for me at that time was like a 911 call. God, are you there? Something terrible happened, I need your help, get me out of this. This was not the prayer of someone who had a deep relationship with God. This was desperation. This was 'Let's make a deal' prayer.
A decade later, I was at the hospital again, and again, I was praying hard. This time my wife was heading into surgery for an emergency caesarean section. She was seven months along at the time, and for the past two weeks, we had been told we had to do everything to keep the baby inside; she was not ready to come out. That all changed when my wife's platelet count dropped through the floor and her system started to crash.
I remember driving behind the ambulance going from the hospital in Roseville to the one downtown because they had the best neonatal care unit in the area. I remember praying, Lord, I don't know what this is all about, but if it is your will, please let my wife and baby live.
I remember being in a set of medical scrubs, in the surgery room, holding my wife hand as she had her c-section. Her mother, Lois was there too. When they delivered our daughter, my mother-in-law said I should go with the baby, she would stay with my wife. Lois had lost a premature baby once, and thought this might be the only chance I have to see her.
Abigail was tiny, just over three pounds. I thought, looking at her tiny hands and feet, she was too small to make it. I was whisked out of the way as a team of doctors and nurses swarmed over her trying to keep her alive. I was again in a daze, as things and events blurred all around me.
I thought back to my father's death, and how it shaped my life going forward. I had to grow up fast after his death, and I did. We had to sell the house we had just built. We move to Sacramento with a newborn son, a start-up business, nothing in the bank, and not much else. Ten years later, we had a nice little house, my wife was running our business full time, and I was making a good living in the tech industry.
I don't try to guess at God's plan any longer, but at that critical moment, our daughter was in the best place, and in the best hands for a baby in her situation. I continued to pray in those first few hours. Thank you Lord for all the blessings in my life, thank you for seeing us through so far, your will be done Lord, your will be done.
My wife was not out of the woods at this point either. This had started with her having a variation of pre-eclampsia, and she was still having complications. I bounced back and forth between the neonatal unit and my wife's recovery room, giving her updates on little Abigail.
The first few days were the worst. They had to put Abbie on a ventilator, and she had a hole in her heart that they were monitoring, hoping it would close as it should. I have a picture of her with my wedding ring around her ankle; she was that small. There was not a lot of time for sleep that week. After a frightening setback with my wife, she finally stabilized, and now Abbie was our main concern.
The nurses at the neo-natal intensive care unit are remarkable people. I am not sure how you work in that environment without your heart breaking regularly. There were maybe two dozen babies in NICU, many very ill. Some make it. Some do not. It is not a happy place to be for a parent. We listened every day as they would give us updates about Abbie. We would cheer when she gained an ounce, we would worry if she lost one. We spent many hours sitting there, just watching her breathe. In those weeks, I spent more time in my Bible than any time I had prior.
I learned a lot about the nature of God in those weeks. Who he was, about his love for me, his love for us. I kept coming back to a verse in the Old Testament. Numbers 6:24-26. 'The LORD bless you and keep you; The LORD make His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you; The LORD lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace.' I printed these verses out and taped it to Abbie's incubator, or "the hut," as we called it.
I drew such peace from this verse and the words that were very real to me. In all the chaos, worry, and doubt of those first few hours, days and weeks, I had a peace that I had no right to be feeling. I just knew that whatever happened, God was with me and with my family.
Fast forward another decade, and I find that I don't get too excited about many things. I think I know what's important, and what is just part of life. I think the source of my understanding comes in two parts; my understanding of who God is, and the understanding that material things; houses, cars, career, status, are of absolutely zero value when you are holding the hand of someone you love dearly, praying they will live.
My wife and I have been truly blessed. Our son is now in college, our daughter, once so tiny, is now a head taller than most of her class and is a beautiful, vibrant, ball of energy. Our family has come a long way, and I am certain that without God's love and his strength, we would have fallen apart. While I still have a very long way to go, my faith, and my walk with God are much different than they were as a new Christian.
One of the things that concern me about the American church is the way we present Christianity. We talk about forgiveness, everlasting life, peace, the power over sin, the love of Christ that is ours when we accept Jesus as our savior. These are all true; these are the very essence of being in Christ Jesus. I think where we as the church go astray is the misconception, especially with new Christians, that faith in Christ is a magic force field against bad things happening to us. I don't think we do this on purpose, but we always focus on the positive traits of Christianity, as if we are somehow immune to tragedy and sorrow.
Many who raise their hands on a Sunday to accept Christ, may think that once I am a Christian, all these bad things, all these bad situations will just go away. I don't believe I have read that anywhere in the Bible. Maybe you will be 'unfired.' Maybe the bank will not foreclose on your house as they said they would, or the doctor will tell you that everything is fine now, or your spouse will not move out. Everything may turn around overnight, I have seen it happen; but what if it doesn't? Is God not real then? Does he not love you enough to make your problems go away? This is where new believers need the church to come along side them, for support, comfort and prayer. Powerful prayer.
As someone who would love nothing more than all souls coming to Christ, I think we should tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about what the journey with Christ is all about. Not having gone through seminary, and being a rather poor example of the Christian faith, I may be completely and entirely wrong on this, but here is my 'Idiots guide to God', written by an aforementioned idiot.
God is not a magic Jeanie in a bottle. Yes, he is all knowing, and all powerful, he is not however, ours for the commanding. He is the one who makes the commandments, it would serve us well to know these commandments, and keep them.
I take Jesus at his word when he says, "In this world, you will have trouble." I have had lots of trouble, and I will have more of it, this is certain. The key is to hang onto the next verse, "But take heart! I have overcome the world."
It's not that your life with Christ are all sunny days, filled with fluffy clouds and butterflies. There will be days that make you cry out for his mercy. Days, if left to your own understanding and your own power, would simply overwhelm and crush you. But with God's power, through the Holy Spirit living in you, you will know that ultimately, God is right there with you. He gives you strength when you feel you cannot go on, he gives you peace when you need it most. His heart breaks when yours does.
As you come through the other side of a crisis, you grow closer in your relationship with God, and your prayers seem to change. I still want the outcome I have in mind, however, I understand that there are things that I simply cannot understand, not in this life. I will have to trust God. Even when it makes no sense, even when it hurts, even when it is the opposite of what I wanted. I must trust in God's infinite love for me.
This last prayer is one I hope I have the strength to pray in my next crisis, which is surely on its way. "Lord, in all things, I give you the glory. Use me, use this, to bring people closer to you. Lord, lift up your countenance upon me, Lord give me peace."
I remember hearing the overhead page for the Code Blue. It's the call they use to say someone is dying, come quick. That had been two hours ago. I remember praying to God that he let my father live. Let him live, and I promise I will change, I will be good from now on. I could not imagine life without my father; he was such a big part of my life. My mind was running countless scenarios where my father pulled through and my life would go on in a way I understood. Please Lord, don't let him die. I'll do anything you ask, please don't let him die.
I knew by the look on the doctor's face my father didn't make it. It was not a sad look, or the look of apprehension about telling a family the bad news. The doctor had the look of a man who had been fighting hard to save a life for the past two hours, and had lost the battle. I had so many feelings coursing through my body. I felt this numbness, I guess it is like being in shock. I could hear my heart pounding audibly as my mind raced. Why God? Why?
I was in my mid twenties at the time, married to my wife of almost three years, and completely dependent on my father.
Since high school, I had worked for him. I had worked on our cattle ranches, and had just received my real estate license to work at his real estate business. Not only had I just lost my father, I had just lost my employer and benefactor. As we drove home from the hospital that day, I couldn't help but thinking how God had let me down. Didn't he know that I was on my own now? What was I going to do? How was I going to pay for the house I just built? Why would he do this to me when he could have just saved my father and made my life so much easier? Why?
Although I had been a Christian for most of my adult life, I had walked far away from God over the years. In fact, my life looked nothing like the walk Christ would want me to have. I had little responsibility, little thought for others, my life was all about me and what I wanted. Prayer for me at that time was like a 911 call. God, are you there? Something terrible happened, I need your help, get me out of this. This was not the prayer of someone who had a deep relationship with God. This was desperation. This was 'Let's make a deal' prayer.
A decade later, I was at the hospital again, and again, I was praying hard. This time my wife was heading into surgery for an emergency caesarean section. She was seven months along at the time, and for the past two weeks, we had been told we had to do everything to keep the baby inside; she was not ready to come out. That all changed when my wife's platelet count dropped through the floor and her system started to crash.
I remember driving behind the ambulance going from the hospital in Roseville to the one downtown because they had the best neonatal care unit in the area. I remember praying, Lord, I don't know what this is all about, but if it is your will, please let my wife and baby live.
I remember being in a set of medical scrubs, in the surgery room, holding my wife hand as she had her c-section. Her mother, Lois was there too. When they delivered our daughter, my mother-in-law said I should go with the baby, she would stay with my wife. Lois had lost a premature baby once, and thought this might be the only chance I have to see her.
Abigail was tiny, just over three pounds. I thought, looking at her tiny hands and feet, she was too small to make it. I was whisked out of the way as a team of doctors and nurses swarmed over her trying to keep her alive. I was again in a daze, as things and events blurred all around me.
I thought back to my father's death, and how it shaped my life going forward. I had to grow up fast after his death, and I did. We had to sell the house we had just built. We move to Sacramento with a newborn son, a start-up business, nothing in the bank, and not much else. Ten years later, we had a nice little house, my wife was running our business full time, and I was making a good living in the tech industry.
I don't try to guess at God's plan any longer, but at that critical moment, our daughter was in the best place, and in the best hands for a baby in her situation. I continued to pray in those first few hours. Thank you Lord for all the blessings in my life, thank you for seeing us through so far, your will be done Lord, your will be done.
My wife was not out of the woods at this point either. This had started with her having a variation of pre-eclampsia, and she was still having complications. I bounced back and forth between the neonatal unit and my wife's recovery room, giving her updates on little Abigail.
The first few days were the worst. They had to put Abbie on a ventilator, and she had a hole in her heart that they were monitoring, hoping it would close as it should. I have a picture of her with my wedding ring around her ankle; she was that small. There was not a lot of time for sleep that week. After a frightening setback with my wife, she finally stabilized, and now Abbie was our main concern.
The nurses at the neo-natal intensive care unit are remarkable people. I am not sure how you work in that environment without your heart breaking regularly. There were maybe two dozen babies in NICU, many very ill. Some make it. Some do not. It is not a happy place to be for a parent. We listened every day as they would give us updates about Abbie. We would cheer when she gained an ounce, we would worry if she lost one. We spent many hours sitting there, just watching her breathe. In those weeks, I spent more time in my Bible than any time I had prior.
I learned a lot about the nature of God in those weeks. Who he was, about his love for me, his love for us. I kept coming back to a verse in the Old Testament. Numbers 6:24-26. 'The LORD bless you and keep you; The LORD make His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you; The LORD lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace.' I printed these verses out and taped it to Abbie's incubator, or "the hut," as we called it.
I drew such peace from this verse and the words that were very real to me. In all the chaos, worry, and doubt of those first few hours, days and weeks, I had a peace that I had no right to be feeling. I just knew that whatever happened, God was with me and with my family.
Fast forward another decade, and I find that I don't get too excited about many things. I think I know what's important, and what is just part of life. I think the source of my understanding comes in two parts; my understanding of who God is, and the understanding that material things; houses, cars, career, status, are of absolutely zero value when you are holding the hand of someone you love dearly, praying they will live.
My wife and I have been truly blessed. Our son is now in college, our daughter, once so tiny, is now a head taller than most of her class and is a beautiful, vibrant, ball of energy. Our family has come a long way, and I am certain that without God's love and his strength, we would have fallen apart. While I still have a very long way to go, my faith, and my walk with God are much different than they were as a new Christian.
One of the things that concern me about the American church is the way we present Christianity. We talk about forgiveness, everlasting life, peace, the power over sin, the love of Christ that is ours when we accept Jesus as our savior. These are all true; these are the very essence of being in Christ Jesus. I think where we as the church go astray is the misconception, especially with new Christians, that faith in Christ is a magic force field against bad things happening to us. I don't think we do this on purpose, but we always focus on the positive traits of Christianity, as if we are somehow immune to tragedy and sorrow.
Many who raise their hands on a Sunday to accept Christ, may think that once I am a Christian, all these bad things, all these bad situations will just go away. I don't believe I have read that anywhere in the Bible. Maybe you will be 'unfired.' Maybe the bank will not foreclose on your house as they said they would, or the doctor will tell you that everything is fine now, or your spouse will not move out. Everything may turn around overnight, I have seen it happen; but what if it doesn't? Is God not real then? Does he not love you enough to make your problems go away? This is where new believers need the church to come along side them, for support, comfort and prayer. Powerful prayer.
As someone who would love nothing more than all souls coming to Christ, I think we should tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about what the journey with Christ is all about. Not having gone through seminary, and being a rather poor example of the Christian faith, I may be completely and entirely wrong on this, but here is my 'Idiots guide to God', written by an aforementioned idiot.
God is not a magic Jeanie in a bottle. Yes, he is all knowing, and all powerful, he is not however, ours for the commanding. He is the one who makes the commandments, it would serve us well to know these commandments, and keep them.
I take Jesus at his word when he says, "In this world, you will have trouble." I have had lots of trouble, and I will have more of it, this is certain. The key is to hang onto the next verse, "But take heart! I have overcome the world."
It's not that your life with Christ are all sunny days, filled with fluffy clouds and butterflies. There will be days that make you cry out for his mercy. Days, if left to your own understanding and your own power, would simply overwhelm and crush you. But with God's power, through the Holy Spirit living in you, you will know that ultimately, God is right there with you. He gives you strength when you feel you cannot go on, he gives you peace when you need it most. His heart breaks when yours does.
As you come through the other side of a crisis, you grow closer in your relationship with God, and your prayers seem to change. I still want the outcome I have in mind, however, I understand that there are things that I simply cannot understand, not in this life. I will have to trust God. Even when it makes no sense, even when it hurts, even when it is the opposite of what I wanted. I must trust in God's infinite love for me.
This last prayer is one I hope I have the strength to pray in my next crisis, which is surely on its way. "Lord, in all things, I give you the glory. Use me, use this, to bring people closer to you. Lord, lift up your countenance upon me, Lord give me peace."
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Occupy Cancun
Can't believe how crazy those people were at club last night. I'll bet we walked past a dozen people passed out on the beach on the way back to the resort.
Dude! It was awesome!
Man, this is way better than the spending Thanksgiving break at Zuccotti Park. I'm glad your mom had an extra suite for us. I'll bet those homeless dudes are freezing their butts off back in New York, but that's the price you have to pay if you want to change the world.
Yea! We're changing the world!
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Eject , Eject, Eject!
Eject, eject, eject! That line come from the movie, Flight of the Intruder. The Navy pilot is giving a ride to a corpsman and goes over the procedure for an in-flight emergency. He tells the doc, the command for eject will be, eject, eject, eject! The doc asks, "Do I say Roger or something?" The pilot replies, if you even say "Huh" you're going to be talking to yourself.
Sometimes you have to know when to bail out before you crash and do permanent damage. At this season in my life, I have reached that point. Don't worry, I'm not going to run off to join the circus, or move to Scotland to distill my own brand of whiskey, I'm just readjusting my priorities.
As a younger man, my life was completely self-centered. To be totally honest, I still fight that trait to this day, and some days, it wins. However, when you're young, your life is all about what will make you happiest in the very near future. By near future, that could be weeks, days, or even hours. What other people are doing, feeling, or experiencing is of relatively little value, unless it's a means to getting that next dose of happiness. If you have kids at home, especially teenagers, you know this all too well. If this reflects your own life, and you are past your twenties, you are doing it wrong.
As you get older, you are supposed to grow up and be 'responsible'. Being responsible, as a wise friend once told me, is being able to choose your response. As life gets more complicated with relationships, work, family, and other things, they all start to bide for your time and attention. This is when 'responsible' feels more like being on the hook for everything and less about choosing a response.
As I approached my forties, I began to take inventory of my life. I hear this is normal, and even healthy. As long as don’t divorce your wife for someone half her age, and buy a convertible Corvette. Knowing that you may have just hit the apex of your lifespan, that you may have fewer sunrises ahead than are in the rear view mirror, can bring you life into focus. It did for me. I wanted to start making a difference in the world surrounding me. I began to say yes to things that I had resisted in the past. Community groups, church, politics, I began to serve on all types of committees, leadership teams, boards of directors and such.
I want to be as clear as I can here, these are all wonderful organizations, and worthy causes. My hat is off to those who serve in these roles. There is a lot of hard work, long days (and nights) no pay, and very little recognition. I hope in the future I can find a balance in my life that allows me once again to serve those around me. Right now, I am turning my focus elsewhere.
In an earlier piece, I wrote about my daughter and how I wanted to spend more time with her as she enters her pre-teen years. When I looked at my calendar before, it was filled with meetings, volunteer days, and other activities. I began to realize how much I rely on my wife when it comes to Abbie. They are two peas in a pod, and while this is great for their relationship, I can't just be a bystander in my daughter’s life. I want to be as involved in her life as I am in my son's life. This will be a challenge for me, as the thought of a car load or house full of giggling, screaming, eleven year old girls gives me the hives.
The other reason for my disengagement with my volunteer activities is a bit more personal. I need to do a little work on myself. Well, maybe a more than a little. That mid life, self assessment left me with a few areas where I need to improve. My health, my spiritual maturity, my family life; I need to invest my time and focus on these things right now. Not that you can ever master these areas, but you only have a limited amount of resources, and when I am spreading myself a mile wide, I find that I am only an inch deep.
To boil it down, I guess I am doing too many things, and I'm not doing any of them well. I hope this winter is a growing season for me; as a husband, a father, a man, and as follower of Christ.
I hope sometime in the future, I can re-engage in some of these areas. This time, I will give the opportunity a very close look, and talk it over with my family. They will have final veto power. For now, it’s out to the workshop; I have a lot of work to do.
Sometimes you have to know when to bail out before you crash and do permanent damage. At this season in my life, I have reached that point. Don't worry, I'm not going to run off to join the circus, or move to Scotland to distill my own brand of whiskey, I'm just readjusting my priorities.
As a younger man, my life was completely self-centered. To be totally honest, I still fight that trait to this day, and some days, it wins. However, when you're young, your life is all about what will make you happiest in the very near future. By near future, that could be weeks, days, or even hours. What other people are doing, feeling, or experiencing is of relatively little value, unless it's a means to getting that next dose of happiness. If you have kids at home, especially teenagers, you know this all too well. If this reflects your own life, and you are past your twenties, you are doing it wrong.
As you get older, you are supposed to grow up and be 'responsible'. Being responsible, as a wise friend once told me, is being able to choose your response. As life gets more complicated with relationships, work, family, and other things, they all start to bide for your time and attention. This is when 'responsible' feels more like being on the hook for everything and less about choosing a response.
As I approached my forties, I began to take inventory of my life. I hear this is normal, and even healthy. As long as don’t divorce your wife for someone half her age, and buy a convertible Corvette. Knowing that you may have just hit the apex of your lifespan, that you may have fewer sunrises ahead than are in the rear view mirror, can bring you life into focus. It did for me. I wanted to start making a difference in the world surrounding me. I began to say yes to things that I had resisted in the past. Community groups, church, politics, I began to serve on all types of committees, leadership teams, boards of directors and such.
I want to be as clear as I can here, these are all wonderful organizations, and worthy causes. My hat is off to those who serve in these roles. There is a lot of hard work, long days (and nights) no pay, and very little recognition. I hope in the future I can find a balance in my life that allows me once again to serve those around me. Right now, I am turning my focus elsewhere.
In an earlier piece, I wrote about my daughter and how I wanted to spend more time with her as she enters her pre-teen years. When I looked at my calendar before, it was filled with meetings, volunteer days, and other activities. I began to realize how much I rely on my wife when it comes to Abbie. They are two peas in a pod, and while this is great for their relationship, I can't just be a bystander in my daughter’s life. I want to be as involved in her life as I am in my son's life. This will be a challenge for me, as the thought of a car load or house full of giggling, screaming, eleven year old girls gives me the hives.
The other reason for my disengagement with my volunteer activities is a bit more personal. I need to do a little work on myself. Well, maybe a more than a little. That mid life, self assessment left me with a few areas where I need to improve. My health, my spiritual maturity, my family life; I need to invest my time and focus on these things right now. Not that you can ever master these areas, but you only have a limited amount of resources, and when I am spreading myself a mile wide, I find that I am only an inch deep.
To boil it down, I guess I am doing too many things, and I'm not doing any of them well. I hope this winter is a growing season for me; as a husband, a father, a man, and as follower of Christ.
I hope sometime in the future, I can re-engage in some of these areas. This time, I will give the opportunity a very close look, and talk it over with my family. They will have final veto power. For now, it’s out to the workshop; I have a lot of work to do.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
A day of days
Sleep used to be one of my strong suits. Not to boast, but I could sleep with the best of them. To put it another way, if there were an NSL, the National Sleeping League, I would have been a first round draft pick. So it was that morning, my head, buried in my pillow, was dreaming pleasant thoughts, waiting for the rude blare of my alarm clock that I knew would be coming soon, when I dreamt the phone rang. Was I still dreaming?
One of the drawbacks to being raised on a cattle ranch are the calls you get at all times of the night informing you, "Your cows are out." Most of the time it was the CHP dispatch, how they came to have my phone number is still a mystery, but any cattle on Highway 16 between Esparto and the Lake County line somehow became 'my cows'. Having answered many of those calls over the years, I have a strange ability to go from dead asleep, to coherently awake it three rings of a telephone.
A little before 6:00AM, my mother in law Lois called to say that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York, and to turn on the television. I turned on the news and watched as the events of that horrific day unfolded. We all remember the shock, the confusion, the fear that gripped us as we watched what seemed to be an unending stream of terrible events. It was, as I think back on it, a day of days. A day I will never forget, ever.
With all the images of that day flashing across the television, I could not imagine the experience of being in lower Manhattan that morning to see, to hear, to feel and even to taste the gray ash of those demolished towers. The high definition images from the television or the pixels of a digital photo cannot reproduce the emotion, the terror, the anguish of that beautiful, clear, September morning that devolved into a hell on earth.
It is fitting the ten year anniversary of September 11, 2001 falls on a Sunday. It is the Sunday following 9/11 that I would like to take you back to if I may. Like many other semi-regular church attendees, I am pretty sure I had not been to church in a few weeks. At the time, our daughter was still a toddler, and church was a hit or miss proposition depending on how frazzled we felt come Sunday.
I did however, make it to church the Sunday after 9/11, and I wasn’t alone. I had to park quite a distance away that morning. The church was packed, and you could see the anxious looks on people’s faces. Gone was the friendly chitchat that usually precedes the start of services, in its place were quiet, concerned conversations about the previous Tuesday. Tears were met with reassuring hugs and a comforting word. It is in these times of crisis you find out just how hard you can lean on your church. There were a lot of folks leaning hard that day.
We were attending Bayside Church in Granite Bay at the time, and Pastor Ray Johnston delivered a powerful and very relevant message that Sunday. A message of sorrow yes, but also one of confidence, strength, and hope. A line that stuck with me that Sunday was God is still on his throne. He is still in charge, and we could draw close to his strength in the midst of this crisis.
In places of worship all over the nation that day, uncounted millions emerged from Sunday services with a renewed faith, and a sense of hope in the face a very uncertain world. On this tenth anniversary of September eleventh, I will remember the fallen, the heroes, and especially our soldiers, but I will also take heart that we are still one nation, under God.
God bless America.
One of the drawbacks to being raised on a cattle ranch are the calls you get at all times of the night informing you, "Your cows are out." Most of the time it was the CHP dispatch, how they came to have my phone number is still a mystery, but any cattle on Highway 16 between Esparto and the Lake County line somehow became 'my cows'. Having answered many of those calls over the years, I have a strange ability to go from dead asleep, to coherently awake it three rings of a telephone.
A little before 6:00AM, my mother in law Lois called to say that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York, and to turn on the television. I turned on the news and watched as the events of that horrific day unfolded. We all remember the shock, the confusion, the fear that gripped us as we watched what seemed to be an unending stream of terrible events. It was, as I think back on it, a day of days. A day I will never forget, ever.
With all the images of that day flashing across the television, I could not imagine the experience of being in lower Manhattan that morning to see, to hear, to feel and even to taste the gray ash of those demolished towers. The high definition images from the television or the pixels of a digital photo cannot reproduce the emotion, the terror, the anguish of that beautiful, clear, September morning that devolved into a hell on earth.
It is fitting the ten year anniversary of September 11, 2001 falls on a Sunday. It is the Sunday following 9/11 that I would like to take you back to if I may. Like many other semi-regular church attendees, I am pretty sure I had not been to church in a few weeks. At the time, our daughter was still a toddler, and church was a hit or miss proposition depending on how frazzled we felt come Sunday.
I did however, make it to church the Sunday after 9/11, and I wasn’t alone. I had to park quite a distance away that morning. The church was packed, and you could see the anxious looks on people’s faces. Gone was the friendly chitchat that usually precedes the start of services, in its place were quiet, concerned conversations about the previous Tuesday. Tears were met with reassuring hugs and a comforting word. It is in these times of crisis you find out just how hard you can lean on your church. There were a lot of folks leaning hard that day.
We were attending Bayside Church in Granite Bay at the time, and Pastor Ray Johnston delivered a powerful and very relevant message that Sunday. A message of sorrow yes, but also one of confidence, strength, and hope. A line that stuck with me that Sunday was God is still on his throne. He is still in charge, and we could draw close to his strength in the midst of this crisis.
In places of worship all over the nation that day, uncounted millions emerged from Sunday services with a renewed faith, and a sense of hope in the face a very uncertain world. On this tenth anniversary of September eleventh, I will remember the fallen, the heroes, and especially our soldiers, but I will also take heart that we are still one nation, under God.
God bless America.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
DC EARTHQUAKE!
"And now Wolf Blitzer with breaking news"
"We have reports coming in of an earthquake in our nation's capital. We are trying to get live images to you as soon as possible, but from early reports, we have an artist's rendering of what the damage looks like. Let's show the graphic."
"How terrible! This earthquake happened on a previously undiscovered fault line, it is being called 'Bush's Fault' because of catastrophic damage it has caused."
"Ok, I am getting word that we do have a live shot of the devastation from the earthquake in Washington DC. Here is the live view of DC"
"Hmmm. Things look a bit better than we had feared, but I'm sure there is terrible damage down on street level., Wait, we do have a live shot from the Lincoln Memorial"
"Hmm"
"OK, well I guess we dodged a bullet there. While most of the government buildings are being evacuated and workers are heading home, this could have been much worse."
"Wait one minute, I am now getting word of a giant cat, that's right, a giant cat attacking the Washington Monument. Here is an artist's rendering of the attack."
"As always, stay tuned for more breaking news, as it happens."
"Hmm"
"OK, well I guess we dodged a bullet there. While most of the government buildings are being evacuated and workers are heading home, this could have been much worse."
"Wait one minute, I am now getting word of a giant cat, that's right, a giant cat attacking the Washington Monument. Here is an artist's rendering of the attack."
"As always, stay tuned for more breaking news, as it happens."
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