home, saturate, prayer please

We’re home form the slopes!

I’m teaching tomorrow in Saturate, I’m super excited, but please be praying for this to be a meaning time, and for God to stir hearts.

Where I spent most of my time skiing

Kiddie snow show…

So today I boldly went where I have feared to go, back to the ski slopes! The last time I skied was January 06 and the events of that day have left me rather skittish of the slopes (you can read the blog). But today those fears where overcome, not gracefully but that’s not the point.

This morning as 60+ young adult filed out of rental vans and up to ticket counters and lift lines, I stood at a rental desk. As the line slowly moved me closer, I could over hear the request for the “long skis”. For those of you who are not familiar with skiing, the longer the ski the faster you, and you usually get something close to your height, but not I, for my skies where about as high as my hip, about the height of a 6 year old.

So today as I unashamedly wore my “kiddie skies” and skied on the “kiddie slope.” My pride did not grow but my confidence as a skier did, although the green “beginner” slope I eventually slid down stretched my nerve and took half a day to conquer.

I may still be wearing “short skies” but at least I was having more fun than horror.

On a side note the retreat is going wonderfully. It has been so good to connect with other people, to laugh together, play together and to simply be together. Pearl and I are sharing a room with two really dear friends, the Smokers, which has been more fun than this short blog can express.

Where we are skiing

What I'm not doing
look for the trails with the green circles, those are the one's I like!
(AKA those are the "you still suck" trails)

One sad sight

So our wonderful Newfi recently had to have “man surgery”, which after the drugs wore off and he returned to reality was not real happy about, but he’s forgiven us now, or at least his long term memory is not so too long.

Well the doctor said not to let him lick the stitches, so we tried to stop him, but we failed, and he licked every single stitch out, leaving him in one really nasty situation, but that’s another story for another time.

But him being in his nasty situation meant one thing: back to the vet for more stitches, and this time an added surprise, a cone.

A big nasty, giant plastic ring that circles his head.

It’s a sad sight. He looks like some space creature designed for a 50’s horror flick.

Words cannot do justice to this funny sight, but pictures and a little imagination can.

Here’s some things to help you imagine what he’s like– he can’t walk up stairs because the cone catches the corners. He has trouble walking through doors because the cone catches the wall. He has trouble walking around basically anything because he can’t tell how big his head is now. When he eats or wants a bone he has to really focus to reach it, and when he comes to get a pet, he just keeps pushing the plastic cone into your leg trying to get his head near you. It’s really funny to watch him, kind of sad, but I’d rather make him miserable for a couple of days then have to get a third set of stitches.

respect

We live in a world that wants to scream that your value is based upon what you’re doing or have done. That your job, titles, degrees, fancy letters around your name, a list of accomplishments formerly known as a resume, etc is what defines you.

Well, last night I had the honor of listening to a friend step down. To fight the drive to be known by what he does. To say that integrity to his personal values outweigh the recognition of leadership.

I respect that, I slightly envy that, and it makes me question my responsibilities.

Have I somehow allowed myself to agree to too much?

How would I know I’m doing too much?

Have I defined my personal values to even know when I’m crossing them?

These are questions that I need to face cause leadership only ask for more and I need to be ready to know when enough is enough.

So to my friend, I say thank you; thank you for living your values, thank you for valuing your family, thank you for not allowing yourself to be stolen to the demands and opportunities of life.

To my friend, I respect you and I wish you well

Starbucks

I was sitting at Starbucks, one of my favorite places on earth, yesterday. Pearl and I where reading as one of the baristas was cleaning some of the tables and counters near us. Pearl and I were sitting next to the “sugar and cream” table (not the best table to have in the room but Starbucks is Starbucks so I’ll take that table over my desk any day), and as we were deep in thought on whatever it was we where working on, we heard a load crash, and a distinct yelp that only an embarrassed/scared/frustrated young lady can make in a moment of distress. I was expecting to discover drinks on the floor, on her, on other customers, or maybe some broken glass or object smashed into a million pieces, but as we followed her eyes we noticed she was looking at a pile of sugar packets that had scattered all over the floor, it was about 200 or so sugar packets, looking like some abstract piece of stain glass art, a swirl of pinks, yellows, whites, and browns.

She embarrassedly knelt down, as a room full of coffee connoisseurs stared.

Now I didn’t do anything major, nothing that “cost” me anything, I debated if I should continue to read or help. I didn’t want to embarrass her or myself, and had no desire to feel awkward, but after a few moments of talking with myself I simply knelt down next to her and helped, placing the Splendas where the Splenda where hanging out, the raw sugar back with the other raw sugars, the ‘organic sugars” with it’s other hippy sugars, helping to reinforce the sugar segregation issues yet other day. As the girl and I knelt on the floor we talked.

She’s leaving today for college. Studying at Temple in Philly, Anthropology to be to exact. She’s nervous about moving in with new girls, a new school, a new everything, but her nervousness is mixed with excitement and energy. We had a good 5-minute conversation. Once all the sugars had made it back to their individual sugar worlds we smiled and I sat back down and picked my book up. Nothing-big right? Just picking up some stupid sugar packets, and a little small talk.

A couple minutes later my phone let me know someone was wanted to talk to me, so I stepped outside to watch the snowfall (all three glorious inches) and to talk. When I returned to my seat 3 little cards where waiting for me, 3 cards for any drink in the store. Was my simple action worthy of 3 drinks? But she was not done saying thank you, a minute pasted and a 4th card showed up on our table. This time it was the “M.U.G. award.” The card contained a cool Starbucks “mug” pin, and as I opened it a personalized message scribbled on the inside.

My new Barista friend had written “Hey, no one every said customers couldn’t get these! Thank you so much for jumping in and helping with my little spill. It’s customers like you that make this job worth it. – Keep spreading the love, we need more people like you in the world! Your Barista, Megan”

All I did was help her pick up packets of sugar. I didn’t need 3 free drinks and the “Moves of Uncommon Greatness” (MUG) pin.

It was just sugar packets.

But to Megan it was more. I don’t know her story, her anxieties, her fears, and I don’t need to.

When was the last time someone stopped to help? Stopped to listen? Asked her about her life? Her world? When was the last customer to talk with her and not be complaining about their drink, their bill, their unhappiness?

Once again, it was only sugar packets, but for Megan it was more, it was “Moves of Uncommon Greatness.”

We can all be MUG people, we can all have moves of uncommon greatness.

May we be these people. May we notice the sugar packets, the small things, the simple things.

It’s these things that change the world, that shape culture, that show people they matter

To me it was just simple sugar packets, but to Megan it wasn’t

We can change the world, one sugar packet at a time.

God, please help us see other Megans, and may we help with their “sugar packets.”

PS – below are some pics of our snow, it was only here for 18 hours, but 18 hours is better than no hours.

Here it comes!!

The backyard

Zuri and Captain went nuts in the snow, so we took them to the local dog park to play their little hearts out, and they did!

The park was full of people sledding, building snowman, and this one really cute kid greeting other kids snow men.

Zuri crashed when we got back home, but about 30 seconds after this pictures she was bouncing around again. She's got soooo much energy!

pause..

I sat down to express my thoughts, to try and get something out, but all I’ve managed to do is sit here and look at this screen. But that’s ok, I think God doesn’t mind me just sitting here.

I don’t do that enough, just sit, just be, just … nothing.

Pause…

God, please realign my heart with your kingdom, let the desires that drive me, be deeply rooted in what drives you, pleases you.

Pause…

God, let my life be less concerned about me and my fame, my name, my reputation, my glory, and a little more concerned about making much of you.

Pause…

God, you know the things I like to complain about, the fault I like to point out, the blame I like to give, I’m sorry for trying to control the world around me, you take the lead, you make right what needs to be fixed, you know what’s best, help me know how to help and not be in the way.

Pause…

Let my heart ache for those who don’t know you, just like your’s did for me. Let your truth be woven deep into the fabric of my life, expressing itself in all situations, sometimes softly, sometime strong.

Pause…

May my thoughts be a reflection of your thoughts

PS – Zuri has just started snoring as she sleeps in my lap, one paw on my arm, her head on my leg. God may I rest in you, may you hear my snores

Justice in 08

Psalm 10:18
You will bring justice to the orphans and the oppressed so mere people can no longer terrify them.

Did you know that somewhere around 1,000,000 women and children are forced into prostitution or sex trade every year, did you know that there are more slaves today then all the slaves to ever be on US soil, combined, currently there’s believed to be around 27 million.

27 million slaves, 27 million moms, dads, sisters, brothers, children, friends, lovers

27 million lives not allowed to live with dignity, honor, respect, worth

27 million lives only to be known as a labor, a profit, a product, a service

I read Psalm 10:18 differently now, it’s now a battle cry, a desperate cry, a person’s exasperated attempt to get the attention of God, to get the justice of God.

This last Fall the young adult team I’m apart of did a series call dis[content], it focused on different areas of injustice around the world. It was a powerful and heavy 7 weeks. But like most uncomfortable things I manage to observe and then move along, not really letting the truth or magnitude sink in. It was like driving by a bad car wreck each week, I looked to see what happened, to gasp at the blood and horror, but then drive on, cause its not my car, its not my family, its not my friends, so it must not be my problem.

Or is it

Will I be apart of the solution?

Will I be discontent with how the world looks?

Will I love others more than my couch? My comfort?

Pearl and I read Psalm 10 the other day, and it reminded me that somewhere the “orphans and oppressed” are not just another number but a face, a person.

What will I do in 08?

May I be more about justice than my comfort.

If you’re interested in more info a great site is http://notforsalecampaign.org/

made new...

This morning I had breakfast with a high school student. He’s a super cool kid, incredibly athletic, intelligent, social, confident, and in general a lot of fun to be around. But every time I connect with him I leave feeling about the same; excited, frustrated, heart broken and yet hopeful.

See this kid is completely normal on the outside, he looks normal, acts normal, and gives the appearance of being your average high school boy who, if anything, I would guess has a better life that most.

But as I hear his story I realize how wrong my assumptions can be. How different things can be beyond the surface. See his little secret is that he parents are divorced, nothing new there, because his Dad left his mom for someone else, a male someone else. The first time I heard this I took a double take and immediately started telling myself to watch my nonverbal communication, a.k.a. pick my jaw up. This is so different for me, this “normal” kid lives life like every other divorced student in this world, spending time with one parent and then the other, except instead of having a step mom he has an extra step dad. But it’s normal to him; it’s nothing big; it’s just life. His father’s partner is just his other dad; it’s completely normal.

It’s just life.

How many people live a “it’s just life” life?

How many people if we took the time to actually stop and listen would share their “it’s just life” life. How many stories would we hear of pain, shame, guilt, regret, heartache, disappointment, fear, resentment, etc.

But “it’s just life” we say

I can’t believe that the “it’s just life” lives have to be real life, normal life, I have to believe that the world can change, that my world can change, that your world can change, that what has been does not always have to be.

I have to believe that when God says “I make all things new” that he really can.

But what is new?

Is “new” for this student having his mom and dad fall back in love, professing their unbreakable commitment to each other and allowing him to have the idyllic Normal Rockwell life?

Is “new” my friends getting back together, saying they’re sorry for their selfish actions and making their marriage work?

Is “new” my grandfather being able to work without pain, my boss really understanding me, the cop excusing my ticket, the roof no longer leaking, cars working, spouses loving, kids minding, my coffee tasting perfect, life being perfect?

Just what is “new” cause God said he’s doing it, and it seems like something I will want.

Is this “new” the tangibles of life? The things I touch, taste, see. Or, is this “new” seen today in other ways, like attitudes, desires, the way we do life?

I don’t believe that God was promising to make everything in our lives perfect or how we wish them to be, but the hope that even though this world is broking and not as it was designed to be that one-day it will be right.

That one day this student will know unconditional love, that one day he will not have to play to silly games of divorce, that one day he will not have to feel the shame of telling friends about his dad’s lifestyle, that one day my grandpa will not hurt, that one day selfishness will not cut deep into our hearts, that one day we will be able to fully trust and enjoy spouses, that one day we won’t have leaking roofs, rude kids, bad coffee, or broken lives.

That one day, this world and life as we know it will be “made new” and the “it’s just life” will be what life was designed to be.

But until that day, as we live our “it’s just life” lives may we find the glimpses of where this world is being made new, may we find and celebrate where our lives are being made new, may we help those around us live in the newness to come and not the current brokenness found all around.

It’s just life, but it’ll be made new

Now that’s something I must believe

blessings...

I must say that my life is richly blessed. No I don’t have a job that pays 6 digits, muscles that make other men jealous, or a house that people slow down to get a longer glimpse of. But my life is blessed in amazing ways.

I have an amazing wife who loves me with grace and acceptance I can’t put words to

A family that most of the world could be jealous of. I’ve never been neglected, hurt, made fun of, not accepted, or unwelcomed. If the home of my children can look like my childhood home they shall be greatly blessed.

I have a job I love

A home I’m proud of, and am safe in

Friends who stand next to me, support me, and enjoy life with me

Loved ones and myself are all healthy

Pearl and I are not in need

I really am richly blessed

God, let me not forget my blessings nor forget whom to thank for them

Finding God in the howls and poop…

So yesterday Pearl and I received a call that all dog owners dread to receive, if you have children or pets you may be able to sympathize with me. You know the call I’m talking about, the one where the conversation goes something along the line of “ I hate to inform you but I believe your dog (or child) has just recently been inhabited by the devil, cause they just did...”

Yesterday we received such a call.

As Pearl and I where listening our hearts where pounding as we waited to here what our apparently demonic dog had recently accomplished. Had he cleaned out the refrigerator, again? Had he pooped and peed through the entire house? Had he chewed a computer? What did he do?

Matt Bellis, a friend who lives with us, called to let us know that as soon as we left for work our Newfoundland, Captain, became lonely and for the first time in his life howled. Bellis said Captain howled and howled and howled, unceasingly. Until, he finally drug himself out of bed and comforted him.

Yes, I said howled! Howling, what a relief. Howling doesn’t cause repair or replacement or cleaning, just annoyance, so I’ll take howling over a chewing, peeing, or pooping any day.

But Captain, our dog that spends the vast majority of his life sleeping, eating or leaning into you for a scratch decided to take up the art of howling. Now his howl is rather weak and sad, but it’s still a howl, and the reason is rather cute. Our first-born dog, our wonderful newfy, missed us.
Well we love Captain, he’s one of the best dogs a person could ask for, but he has a way of letting you know his feelings. After coming home from work and giving many hugs, pets, treats, and play our Captain crashed in his usual corner for his evening nap. While he was asleep we slipped out for a New Years Eve party. The party was pretty low key but really fun; it was great to connect with some different couples.

When we returned we found the dogs eager to greet us and say hi, but we also discovered their disappointment with us. See our dogs are animals of routine. If their routine is broken things don’t go as planned, they don’t behave as planned, as they have been trained to behave. But I must confess that in my laziness I broke their routine, I didn’t walk them; instead I had watched a movie. So since I had broken their rhythms they said thank you in their own little way. Zuri did the usual thank you by pooping in her cage, but Captain, our howling lonely Newf, made this thank you personal. He could have simply pooped on the landing in his normal spot but no, this time he walked into Bellis’ room and peed next to his clothes, a little thank you sir, and then he searched till he found my scent and on that scent he left his gift, a big huge dump, right on my scent, right on my new house slippers!

Needless to say this is not how Pearl and I wanted to start the New Year. But last night after cleaning up the messes and crawling into bed a thought slipped into my mind. Rhythms are what make up life. We are all rhythmic beings. We have our morning routines, our work routines, our evening commute routines, our dinner rituals, we generally find our weeks playing out in a similar fashion, and our months and years pass to a consistent beat.

I have many rhythms, you have many rhythms; but a rhythm that has been lacking here as of late, well to be honest for a while, for me is the rhythm of pausing.

Pausing: to take time and be, to not be rushing, to slow my mind down and reflect on life, faith, beauty, good, and other things of God, to intentionally connect with the God I love and who loves me, to realign with the kingdom, to be still and know.

A rhythm of pause.

My dogs have a rhythm, my faith has a rhythm

When Captain’s rhythm is broken he howls and poops in your house shoes,

when my rhythm of pause is broken, God misses me, He waits for me,

but if doesn’t poop in my shoes.

I once believed that God would poop in my shoes, may be not literally but that he would do something to spite me, to punish me whenever I broke my rhythm with him.

God doesn’t poop in your shoes, He waits, He whispers; he calls our hearts back to him.

So as I cleaned poop this morning at 1:30 my heart was called back, invited back into a rhythm of knowing him, of pausing

Happy New Year!