Death IS The Real Problem

The unbelievable tragedy in Connecticut is wrong on many levels.  And on every level, with every issue there are sides to argue.  Most of us instinctively pick one.  We disagree, or at least we see the issues differently.  If you spend a few minutes on the internet, you will find wildly divergent perspectives, charged with intense emotion.  Interestingly, the conflict on these issues, especially when the issue is the main connection (rather than the relationship), rarely ends in resolution.  More often than not, it ends in greater anger, judgement and separation.  

Thank You Ryan Woods

Thursday Brotherhood

My friend Ryan Woods took a short cut today.  After spending his rich life generously, graciously and with much humor and honesty - He left.  Too soon for those that knew him even a little.  He raised the bar for the rest of us and kept the angels laughing and scratching their beards.  I will miss him and I am terribly sad for Jess and their kids but God is good and he will love them well.  

Ryan laid it all out.  He risked nearly everything.  I’d just say he risked it all but I don’t know him that well.  It sure seemed like it.  In doing so, he secured all that was important and left behind a whole passel of people who at the very least are curious and at most are following him while he follows Jesus.  

How To Feel Jesus In Some Not-So-Simple Steps

It’s been a rough summer.  My allergies this year were weird.  I’ve had hay-fever since the summer of my fifteenth year - the year I worked at the Faulkenberg’s, stumbling under a five gallon pack of RoundUp and chopping thistles in the middle of yellow fields of hay.  My hay-fever normally manifests itself with watery, itchy eyes, violent sneezing and unexplainably large portions of uncontrollable mucus that end up spraying with the sneezes and nose blowing.  I’ve developed a skill with this that comes in handy during on runs and bike rides.  Plug a nostril, lean to the side while twisting my head and blow.  Usually snot is deposited where I intend. 

Burn Barrel

His rescuer dragged 

blackened remnants

of last ditch effort 

to the barrel

and stood

with a charred stick

gripped absently.

She pushed down

and down again

into the heat

staring blank

and dry eyed

waiting

for the fire

to rebuild.

Internal Combustion 2

This is a grave and dangerous game I’m playing.  Trying again, taking on a project with hope that it will be more than it appears on the surface.  I am playing with gas – the risk of excess and failure – while smoking a fat cigar.  I’ve done things like this before and gone too far.  I’ve done them wrong and gotten carried away.  It is my adopted nature to receive a vision and run too fast with it.  Take it outside the bounds of its original intention.  To make it more risky, I’m involving other people, their hearts and healing.  But I know it can be done well.  I keep getting visions.  I can see fleeting pictures of transformation in my head.  I am reckless with my hope. 

A Moment Finally Came

A moment finally came, ending the anticipation and cleaving my old life away in a violent chop.  For months, dread grew within me, eating at my soul and generating an insatiable hunger.  The odor of this coming moment had stunk up the air around me as I struggled against the inevitable.  I kept busy producing checkmarks for the mundane.  I expended myself with heroic efforts to ward it off.  Sometimes it enveloped me at my desk or in my truck.  Even outside, slinging words through the phone in the clear fall air, it cascaded over me like a deluge of wet, sticky sludge and pooled in a chunky, rank pile of demise causing goo.  It immobilized me.

Loosing Things

I’d like to introduce you to my duck. You may kick him if you like. You can step on, poke or yell at him. You can even pick him up and throw him against the wall. Don’t be surprised if he flies. I expect he will probably quack. In some cases he may bite you. If you pet him, you may become friends.
In any case, he’s my duck. See if you can make him quack.

People don’t loose things for “sharing their faith.” Christians loose things because we are like Christ.

Crappy World

I used to wake up late almost every morning. I would slowly swing my legs over the edge of the bed and moan quietly but with vengeance at the cruel world, “crap.” Every day while I pulled strands of my mullet out of the crusty drool on my cheek I would complain about my sad life that was just starting that day.

Getting Up to Pee

I wake up earlier than I used to. It’s not because I’ve finally become disciplined, it’s because I have to pee, one of the joyful failings of middle age. My older friends smile condescendingly and say, “just wait” like I do to whiny teenagers. But everyone has a pain they must endure that seems a heavier burden than they can bear. Mine is undesirable pressure to rise early.