Saturday, September 13, 2003

OWE ME, OWE MINE

I met Dave about 12 years ago during the course of a news feature I was producing. He is an extremely intelligent man and a gifted musician. We quickly learned we shared a certain twisted sense of humor. My sense of humor bends more like Gumby when compared to Dave's which can, at times, flex like a triple jointed acupuncture-practicing contortionist whose act has moved by popular demand from the sideshow to center stage.

We share common histories. In our teen years, both of us fancied ourselves rebels who were plunging into waters uncharted.

In fact, we bore a closer resemblance to lemmings cloaking our oblivion behind drugs, booze, long hair and loud music.

It was that affinity for alcohol that cemented our relationship.

We've never had a drink together.

Dave quit drinking before I met him. When he learned I was giving up alcohol he went out of his way to encourage me. Many of the friends I had known much longer were cheering me on in the opposite direction. Dave's support proved invaluable.

About a year after I met Dave, I met Amy. I didn't know Amy well, but I knew she was struggling mightily. Her marriage was ending. The support system she had bound herself to spiritually and financially proved to have faults within its foundation. She was broke, jobless and essentially homeless.

Dave didn't know Amy at all, but upon learning of her situation, he and his wife, and a number of their friends, instinctively rallied around her. They provided her shelter, food, and more importantly reassurance of hope amidst her pain and fear. Dave opened Amy's eyes to the knowledge that there are many good people in the world who do not call themselves Christians. This, at a time when she had no choice but to learn that many self-professed Christians are not necessarily good people.

Although Dave and I have much in common, there are stark differences in our lives. As I grew out of my teen years, I cut my hair and turned the volume down on my stereo. I began paying attention to the world around me, working more, and partying less. I became, for lack of a better phrase, a contributing member of society.

Dave's hair is still down around his waistband and he sports skull rings, spike laden leather wrist bands, and a general disdain for the world and reality. Yet he manages to live his life. He is still married and is a caring father.

Around the same time I met Dave, I also reintroduced myself to God. I've had a relationship with Him all this time too.

For many of those same years, Dave developed a different relationship...with heroin.

My first inclination when I realized he was using heroin was to abandon Dave.

Luckily, I came to my senses.

Several years ago, after seeing Dave in a state that I thought was a mere footfall from death, I used what small influence I had with him. I threatened Dave with the only thing we really had -- our relationship. I told him I couldn't watch him kill himself.

I don't think that was the lone motivating factor but, to the best of my knowledge, Dave has given up heroin. However, he is still a drug user...and not in the casual sense.

Last night, Amy and I had dinner with Dave, his wife, and stepson. It was wonderful. We laughed and told stories. We still enjoy each other's company.

Dave has no relationship with God. Honestly, I really don't foresee that he ever will, although I will pray I am wrong.

It's bizarre that Amy and I associate with him at all. We are leaders in a Baptist church.

Yet I can't help but feel that I owe it to God to maintain this relationship...and I know I owe it to Dave.


Romans 13:8
Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for he who loves his fellowman has fulfilled the law.

Friday, September 12, 2003

I'M JUST STALLING

Physicists say there is no such thing as empty space. Even a vacuum is filled with little marvels of matter or anti-matter, non-matter, subatomic matter or some such matter. None of that really matters to me, I only mentioned it because I had nothing to write about and I wanted to make sure I didn't blow the rules of physics by leaving this space empty today.

I have to admit, I was tempted. I woke up from my nap and realized it was Friday, which is always a nice feeling, but it rarely inspires me to action.

Then I remembered that I was at a local hospital yesterday because my friend Sam was getting a snout-reroute. While there I stumbled upon something I have never seen before...oddly enough in a Men's room.




Yes, that's a urinal.

No, it's not the first one I've ever seen.

However it is the first urinal I can ever remember seeing that had its own stall.



For those of you who might not be as intimately acquainted with such places due to your gender, the traditional arrangement is for urinals to be free standing. Privacy is not required because men have an unwritten rule to always face forward while standing at such places. This not only prevents embarrassing comparisons, but also decreases the odds that you'll ruin some stranger's shoes.

I've been in my share of Men's rooms but, until yesterday, I had never seen a urinal in its own tiny stall. Maybe this is more common than I thought, perhaps these are everywhere, like subatomic particles, and I've never noticed. In any case, it was a first for me.

This was, as they say in the land of un-gentry, a "two-holer" restroom. So there were two stalls.

The second contained the more common commode arrangement.

I will always remember this restroom and, like it or not, I will always associate it with a game show.

Everyone who enters must make a choice.

Door Number One? Or Door Number Two?

Thursday, September 11, 2003

THE FATHERS' GIFTS

I do not know you, Denny.

I have your Bible. I know it's yours because your name is embossed on the cover.

It's the King James Bible, and affixed in the center of the front and back covers are stickers...for the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.

I don't know why.



A friend found the Bible last night protruding from a small white box, inside a garbage bag discarded on the edge of our church parking lot.

I do not know you, Denny.

I know you haven't had this Bible for very long. The binding is unbent and inside there is an inscription dated June 4, 2003.



The inscription reads in part, "I want you to have this Bible. I want you to know I love you with all my heart."

It's signed "Dad."

I do not know you Denny.

I don't know if you are hurting or believe you have a good reason to reject this gift.

I do not know you, Denny.

I'm going to hold onto your Bible in case you change your mind.

I will keep it inside that same little white box. The one marked, Handle with Care.



I would like to know you, Denny.

Please feel free to come inside my Father's House.

We will handle you with care too, I promise.

PSALM 66:20

Praise be to God, who has not rejected my prayer or withheld his love from me!

Wednesday, September 10, 2003

HERE WE GO AGAIN

An update on the Wayne oughtabe.

Tuesday, September 09, 2003

STILL

This is a rare sight. It's not like these are endangered species...unless they bark during my nap.



These are just our dogs, and they're standing still. There's really no purpose to this post.



I put it here to remind myself that sometimes I should be thankful for those times when I can simply be still.

PSALM 37: 7-8

Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him; do not fret when men succeed in their ways,
when they carry out their wicked schemes. Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret-it leads only to evil.

LOVE THY NEIGHBOR

Let your light shine...within limits.

WOULDN'T YOU KNOW IT?

I don't know.

I don't know how to write my thoughts about this story and still stay within the boundaries I've set for myself in terms of profanity.

Our system of justice is going to proceed with lawsuits that scattershoot blame for the September 11th horrors. Lawsuits contending governmental agencies, building owners, aircraft makers, and any number of other people or entities should have anticipated these events.

They should have known.

That's the legal argument. They should have known.

"Hello, my name is Evil.
Here is my plan:
I will kill a few thousand of your people.
I will outrage you.
Then, I will let your lack of focus fester.
I will watch as you foment amid your freedoms.
I will immerse myself in glee as you devour yourselves."


We should know better.

THE WORM'S WAY

The Cambodian government has cancelled that nation's first foray into Reality TV.

The Fear Factor-like show was deemed too inappropriate with people eating bugs and other creatures.

This is the quote from Cambodia's Information Minister:

"It is a dirty game. It might be OK in America, but it is not proper for Cambodian culture. Children are always watching TV and they sometimes copy what they see."

The wire story is quick to point out that people in Cambodia, who are not on TV, regularly eat bugs and other things that we would consider disgusting.

That's not the point. This enlightened Cambodian official has realized the nature of this type of programming and the path to which it leads will quickly give his nation more than indigestion.

I wish we found it a little harder to swallow.

Monday, September 08, 2003

MIGHT I IMPRESS SOMETHING UPON YOU?

I've been thinking about the word impressed. Admittedly this pseudo-philosphical musing had a rather meager start, I actually noticed the impression my pillow made in my face after I came home exhausted and took an extensive nap. It was an impressive impression, which means that as soon as I hit the pillow I didn't move. That's if you don't count drool as body movement and I'm fairly certain drool falls under the category of secretions not movement. So far I haven't stooped to writing about secretions, but there are no guarantees here; that warning up front.

Anyway, I had Amy polish up my resume, bio, and other associated materials that are required for the position I've recently applied for and I thought, "You know, my credentials are fairly impressive."

It helps being fond of writing...making up stuff comes so easy.

Actually, I look at the materials and wonder if although the lists of accomplishments might seem impressive, do they truly reflect me?-Who I am?

Certainly my resume outlines the basics of my career, and my bio gives a brief glimpse into some other areas of my life. The letter of recommendation from my Pastor shows some insight into my spirituality, at least the real letter. The first letter he handed me, which included a line assuring my possible future employer that my past criminal offenses shouldn't be an issue since "yours is not an agricultural school, right?", reminded me that I should add "proof reading skills" to my resume.

These are merely pieces of paper though. Two dimensional accounts. Perhaps flattering, but still flat.

These documents contain truth, but it is a truth that is sanitized. Unscathed. Unscarred.

They don't show the bags under my eyes.

They don't reflect the toll taken upon my thoughts by years of starting each day seeking out details of the misfortunes of others.

Worse yet, they don't reflect the all too familiar glee I have honestly felt upon realizing that, despite the horror of an event I had uncovered, I was relieved with the knowledge that, "at least we have a lead story."

These recaps don't reflect the sacrifices my wife and family have made since the day they met me to accept a man whose work hours and requirements rob them of time and too often of an even temperament.

But I suppose the documents will make a good first impression, and that's what they're supposed to do. If there are personal follow ups to this exercise in career expansion I can hopefully add a few dimensions to it all.

Thank God for that opportunity. I wouldn't want anyone to think they knew me based on these written accounts of accomplishment and accolade.

It may be hard to believe considering how wordy I've already been, but these thoughts today expanded beyond me.

I started thinking about the impression our country makes upon the world. Not our military might. Not our political bluster. Something much more pervasive and probably much more influential. Our media.

When people overseas see the TV show "Friends" are they seeing the values of my friends and my neighbors? What do people in other lands think when they watch Freddie vs Jason or Britney kissing Madonna?



Do they assume this is the accepted behavior of people I know? People I associate with?

It's so easy to make the wrong impression...it's also easy to get the wrong impression.

Can we always blame others when they come to the wrong conclusions about us, if this is the America we broadcast to the world?

PROVERBS 27:19

As water reflects a face, so a man's heart reflects the man.

Sunday, September 07, 2003

THE SMELL OF PIG SKIN IN THE AIR

Ah, Sunday. The day is full of promise and hope.

It got off to a somewhat rocky start. I was driving to church and using my electric razor when I got a subtle whiff of what smelled like bacon grease. This was an odd realization and I must admit I momentarily took it as a sign from God that my arteries were so clogged I was now literally exuding fat. Could every double bacon cheeseburger I had ever consumed now be exiting my pores?

Then I noticed that my entire passenger side seat had a slightly stained tint to it.

Upon further inspection I realized I was wrong. It wasn't bacon grease. It was sausage juice.

Yesterday I had taken an evening meal, which Amy prepared, to some friends and evidently I took a few turns too fast...leaving the pork equivalent of skid marks on my car seat.

Still it was nice to know the odor wasn't emanating from me. One of my car windows doesn't roll up all the way so the hint of Eau De Porcine will actually be a nice change of pace from the Musk of Mold with which I've become accustomed.

Yes, I'm feeling optimistic.

Today was our "New Beginnings" Sunday at church where the Sunday school classes are introduced and we prepare for a new year of study. Being Baptists this, of course, is another excuse to hold a "pot luck". There was lots of good food and good community.

This is going to be an exciting year. We're splitting the adult class which I think will be good for our church and for me personally. There will be a more structured bible study and then the more wizened Cynics and Mystics, who have had a tendency to dominate our wallflower contingent, will be relegated to a place all their own.

Our new classroom building will soon be finished so these classes will have actual places to meet. It's not yet been determined if the Cynics and Mystics class will be finished out with padding on the walls. I will lobby though for doors that lock...from the outside.

All in all I am feeling very hopeful today.

I'm sure this feeling will last....until the Cowboys kickoff.