Follow A Regular Joe

We're Good

2018-03-22T13:41:00.002-07:00

My son is four years old. Right now he is very four and all boy. This means he like to wrestle until someone gets hurt (usually me). He likes to play hard until he is suddenly too tired to obey. He is constantly arguing with me about things that are happening, about things that I have told him and how things really work. He challenges me in the car whether I know where I am going or if I took the wrong way to get somewhere. When I make a plan for us to go on an adventure or have a fun family day, he has to make at least one change to it. His reasoning for getting toys or going somewhere fun is typically because “we never did it before” or “I never had one of those” when he almost always has.

Like this only he is 4

On one hand, I am really proud of him for having his own likes and dislikes. The fact that he can argue my own words against me is a sign of great memory development and strategy implementation. Everything he does is done with one hundred percent effort. He is really strong and he uses his strength to get work done. He has, for the last several months, been helping me bring the trash cans in from the street. When we bring in the groceries from the car, he always grabs the bags with the cans or juice and lately his new thing is to take at least two bags in at a time. He doesn’t make excuses to avoid playing hard, working hard, and he is constantly absorbing lessons from school and friends.

He is learning and expressing his thoughts at an alarming rate. Last week, when I picked him up from Sunday school, he said he knew his memory verse. “Yeah, right,” I thought. So I asked him to tell me what it was. Word for word, reference included. He nailed it. He said it so matter of factly, I had to look it up myself. He was dead right. Consider me super impressed.

The issue really is though at the other end of the pride spectrum is the “I am tired of you right now” side. I think the more he has grown, either I have become easier to annoy (totally possible) or he has become more annoying (also likely). His arguments are making more sense so it takes more brain power to work things out with him. At the end of the day, my body and my brain are worn out from the constant barrage of 4-year-old logic and play. It’s the constant question asking and him continually trying to get me to see this or that while I am trying to clean the house or do my other dozen or so daily “daddy chores”. Seriously, you need to sit still and be quiet for two minutes and let me regroup. There are never two minutes.

Parenting has not been easy for me from the beginning. Mostly because I confess I have always had a short temper. I can take one or two hits but I will explode eventually. As a smart kid often does by this age, he is still finding the line and often crossing it. Lately, our getting out of the bath routine has been regularly a tear-filled occasion. Either he is too tired to get out, too cold to get out, not done playing yet or the other day he was “too wet” to listen because there was “water on his ears”. I told you this kid is clever. But seriously, if you get out now, we still have time for a toon before bedtime but you have to get out now. The struggle is real.

Yesterday, we were getting ready for school. He had fussed a little already not wanting to be cold while getting dressed and wanting a different breakfast bar. Flopping and squirming on the floor is not my favorite thing to deal with in the morning but I’m trying to keep it together. He complains about having to go to school again and I remind him of all the things he likes at school. After each one is mentioned, I get a negative reply about how that kid isn’t really my friend anymore or I don’t like to play on the playground, etc. I pause and tell him I have had enough of the bad attitude. We are going to school and you will have fun. I will pick you up and we will have some more fun together later.

He takes a deep breath and a defiant sigh. He crosses his arms and sits on the couch. I put his shoes on (he was too tired to do it himself) and I held up his jacket for him to put on. He then worm-slides off the couch and I tell him again we need to hurry. Please listen and obey. He stands up and puts his arms in each sleeve. I ask him if he needs help to zip up. A hesitant “I guess so” barely escapes his tightening lips.

IMPOSSIBLE

I do not claim to be a good parent. I know I’m at the bottom of the list of good ones partly because I cannot zip a kids coat from the front. I always have to lean over and zip it like I do my own. This time a thought occurs to me; I am in this close position with my arms around my son and I never take the time to look him in the eye. I zip him up and leaning over I look into his little face to see the most content of smiles directed right at me. I was just a split second, but at that moment we both understood, we’re still good.

Sure, we argue. We bicker even sometimes. We (accidentally) hurt one another when playing. The more time that passes, the less it seems we see eye to eye but that’s because he is becoming his own person. Regardless of all of that, we are family. We love each other even when we’re bad at showing it. We care about the other one even when we don’t agree with them. We want to be with them even when we are tired of being around them. I love that guy even when I don’t like him.

Later that morning, walking into the daycare, he grabs my hand and holds it tight. We stroll in and after hanging up his stuff he tells me, “I love you, Daddy. I will be good and when you come get me, we can wrestle and have fun.” Of course, we will. Because it doesn’t matter how we may have felt about each other earlier, when we take the time out to look to each other for reassurance we can know we’re good.

Debrief

2017-10-04T07:08:00.000-07:00

Thanks to the support of my friends and family and by the grace of God, I was able to travel halfway around the world to a region in central Africa that few ever get to see.

I want to start by apologizing for not having published this debrief sooner, but many of you are aware of the family crisis that was stirred up right before we returned from the trip. I have had little time to recoup or be able to process all of the incredible things God showed me into a presentable format. Before I left, my wife handed me a little notebook to take notes or jot thoughts down in. I filled just over half of it with one-liners to help me remember names and places, stories I heard and things I witnessed. It was a truly overwhelming experience and I wanted to do it justice. I began writing it all out but realized that might be more than what people actually want to hear so I will begin by offering this general letter and if you want to know more, I will start posting those soon for you to read.

When we heard we were invited, I was fairly certain that things would not work out in time for the trip. Finances, passports, visas, immunizations, tickets, and the list goes on. I have participated in mission trips before but this was a beast I was unfamiliar with. We were originally planning on joining a group already scheduled to go and as it turns out, we were the only ones that were allowed visas. The money came in just as we needed it to and all the pieces fit together to reveal to us God wanted us there for sure.

Accommodations in Uganda

Our first day in Africa, I walked out of my room to take it all in. I smelled the air and listened to the noises of the surrounding village. I looked around at all the plants and bugs and watched the monkeys in the trees jump around and chase each other. I realized in that moment that I knew nothing about anything. Everything around me was unfamiliar and new. As a type-A person, I had a hard time turning my brain off as it tried to fill in an answer to all of the questions it was asking itself, but I was thankful I had my Dad with me to help with that. Since he has been to this part of the world many times, he was a great source of wisdom for me and I leaned on him heavily for advice.

When I say everything was different, I mean everything. There are equivalents to almost everything but it just wasn’t the same. It took some time to adjust and right when I was feeling comfortable, we moved to a different area. When we first flew in we landed in Uganda which has a lot of tourists and a lot of luxuries available should one require. After a day in there, we traveled via MAF flight to Bunia, DRC. Flying over the uninhabited jungle in a small, single-engine plane, you appreciate the pilot briefing you where the emergency water supply and radio are located before takeoff.

Bunia Airport

When we land, my first impression of the DRC is that everyone is trying their best with what they have but still barely getting by. It feels like everything is operating on an edge and one wrong move will send you over. We were greeted by Kenneth and Mama Rebecca, two very welcome smiling faces after having just gone through customs. While we are there, we see the new Eden Mission HQ building in Bunia and a job training taking place for ladies wanting to learn more about cooking healthy meals on a budget, a motorcycle repair class for the men, and a combined group of eager adults learning the art of tailoring. They were so excited for the chance to learn a new skill and to be included in the ministry that Eden provides for their families. It was an honor to meet them and pray with them.

Eden Mission's old building now used for hosting classes

The next day we began a two-day course for pastors and their wives on Christian life coaching. It has been a long time since I required a translator and I was at first nervous the ideas were not being conveyed, but once the concept was understood they were excited for the chance to use the tools in their congregations. The second day our attendance number almost tripled once the word got out about what and how we were teaching. It was such a blessing to see their faces light up as they received their certificates. We were encouraged by several pastors that would come up to us during breaks and tell us how excited they were to finally have the tools they needed to reach their people and how special it was for us to be teaching together as father and son.

Bunia at sunset

Just as we were becoming adjusted to life in Bunia, we were preparing to journey to an outlying mining village of Mongbwalu. Again we were pushed out of our already adjusted comfort zones to an even further degree. Kenneth reminded us in the car of Acts 1:8, “…you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Where we are going”, he said, “is the end of the earth. There is nothing beyond here.” When we arrived it was clear we had taken a step back again in terms of development and level of poverty. Our hotel was nice, but water and power were only a maybe and we would be supplying our own food for a couple of days. It was actually nice to be as secluded from the outside world as we were and to be as dependent on God as we needed to be. Each step of the journey He made His way known to us and He cleared the path for us in miraculous ways.

In Mongbwalu, we were scheduled to teach another two-day seminar for pastors and their wives only this one was focused on marriage and ministry. A couple of the pastors that attended our previous course in Bunia were also teaching and it was so neat to see them using what we had just taught being used already in their ministries. We had around thirty couples the first day and again, on day two, we almost tripled that number as we filled almost every seat in the hall where we were meeting. It was a powerful time of encouragement as we built up these pastors. As far out as they are, they tend to feel alone in their ministry and forgotten by other believers but they were able to leave the seminar feeling refreshed and filled. For many of them, it was the first time they had met some of the other pastors in the area so it was also a great time for them to network and connect.

Marriage and Ministry Conference, Mongbwalu

While parts of the conference were taking place, I was invited to do some outreach with other members of our team. We traveled to the local hospital and I still struggle to describe this place. What is happening there should not be happening anywhere. The structure was built in the 1930’s and not much has been done to improve or repair it. But again, they are doing the best they can with what they have and when we met with the hospital director, he was so encouraged by what the ministry was doing for families and the training we were offering to couples, he came to the afternoon session with his wife when his shift was over.

We also met with a couple of women, one a widow and one a single mom of four, whose stores were so full of hopelessness and despair. They attend a local church that was unable to provide them with any support outside of praying for them and connecting them to the mission. We took some time to pray with them and were able to offer them some food as an encouragement and remind them they are not alone.

We headed back to Bunia and felt like kings as we plugged our phones in and drank cold water. The next day, we had the unique opportunity to preach at some of the churches in the area. We thought we would be going together but Sunday morning we discovered we would be preaching in different churches. I found myself in a small stick and mud building filled with the typical plastic chairs and a hundred voices shouting praises to God. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to share until God reminded me to empower them. I shared how I am nothing without the gospel and how God can use them to do great things. I reminded them that they have a mission to share the gospel with their friends and family and I reminded them there are people around the world praying for them.

Looking back, that was a huge part of our mission on this trip; to remind the people living there and doing ministry there that they are not forgotten. There is a world of fellow believers that share in the work and that care about their corner of the world. We would remind them that by you offering your prayer and support to us to travel, what you were saying is that they matter. They matter enough for you to send two people to offer some training courses but more importantly to hug them, pray with them, listen to their stories, laugh with them, cry with them, and worship alongside them.

It was a wonderful trip, a challenging trip, and an experience I will never forget. Since I have returned, God has continued to show me that the mission is not over. I have met several more partners and missionaries from MAF based right here in Boise and I have not stopped seeking ways how God will use me. I am not sure what God holds for me in terms of going back or going somewhere else, but I do know that if and when He calls me, I will answer “Yes, Lord”.

Some of the women practicing life coaching

Of course, wherever he is, my Dad finds the kids

Our pilots on the way back to Uganda

Legacy

2017-09-21T07:38:00.000-07:00

You have only ever given me fond memories and a standard of living life I can only ever wish to achieve. I only know great things about you.

You are a manly man. Serving in the navy, driving truck for several years, and chopping your own firewood on the side of Mount Baker to stoke the heater for church on Sunday mornings. Not to mention you have a pretty sweet beard that I can only admire knowing I will never achieve anything close to it.

You are a handsome man. Whenever anyone has commented on my looks or how much I look like my father or how handsome I might fool people into thinking I am for 3rd grade picture day, I have always said that if I am ever fortunate enough to have even half of my grandpa’s good looks I will have it made. You have always been a picture of strength in my mind and to do it with a gleaming smile and welcoming eyes was something I have long wanted to achieve.

You take care of yourself. Walking every day, eating right, working hard day in and day out. You’ve been strong and healthy and an example of how one should care for themselves. Not just for health’s sake or for vanity or anything, but so you are capable of assisting others when they need it. “Pastor, can you help me move?” Yep, strong enough. “Pastor, can you come help me get my car out of a ditch?” Sure can have the endurance. When someone has needed you to help, you have been not just willing but also able.

You care. About others, about your family, for your wife. You are a caring man. A man who sees people’s problems and reaches out to soothe. You are someone people can talk to because you listen with intent. You are understanding and not judgemental. You seek only the best from the worst of us. You are forgiving and kind. You never made me feel bad. You officiated my first marriage, and I let you down. I want you to know I tried but it hurt me more knowing that you gave your blessing and I couldn’t make it work in the end. Regardless, you never chastised me or scolded me.

You are a godly man. Not perfect and not shy about that, but you are an example of what it looks like to try hard to follow after Him. You worked hard to make changes in your life to reflect the grace you were shown. Your transformation is not complete and there is still work to be done but you have never given up striving for holiness in this world. You study and read the word. You pray and you serve faithfully. You give generously so others can continue the ministry. Doing these things with all your heart. Your example is a bold one and a light that others have been able to follow. You have made your life a reflection for others to see Christ and there is no greater accomplishment.

You are the beginning of our legacy. I do not have a dramatic testimony. I have struggled for years going to camps and Sunday school meetings and church groups where people have amazing transformational tales of God’s hand turning them around and setting them on the right path. My testimony involves my Dad praying with me and then eating macaroni and cheese when I was three. I have recently realized my testimony is not about God’s power to miraculously save but instead a testimony of His faithfulness and forgiveness through life. Because I made the choice to follow Jesus early on, I have a unique part to share in revealing God’s character and how we can rely on Him no matter what. But my story doesn’t start with me. It begins with you. A sinner, kneeling in front of the television with Billy Graham praying his altar call salvation prayer and you choosing Jesus that day. You made the choice before My father was born and because of that, he was brought up in a Christian home. Your influence on him and the example you set, regardless of how good or bad at times, exposed him to the gospel and allowed him the courage to make his own decision and eventually dedicate his life to the ministry. He was familiar enough with the word to share it and be comfortable enough to share it with his kids who then made their own choices to follow Jesus. After I prayed to receive Jesus as my savior, my life did not drastically change and since I was three, I had no bad habit to quit or path really to turn from. But having Jesus as the core of everything we did as a family taught me how to depend on Him for everything. I have not led a perfect life but when I call to Him, He is there. When I ask for forgiveness, He reminds me it is finished. When I find myself lost and needing wisdom, He shows me the way.

The example you have set has made a huge impact on me. You are a man of God whose life choices have allowed me to be the man I am today. I find myself now raising my son in the word and striving to set for him a godly example. I find myself trying to serve and care for my wife in a loving manner. I work hard to provide for my family understanding all things come from God. I serve in my local church and teach the word I have been taught. I copy what my father taught me and his example was you. Both of your examples reflect the one true example to follow and for that I thank you.

You are my hero. I thank God for you and I thank you for staying strong and remaining faithful in your journey with Him. I love you, Grandpa.

Journey to the DRC

2017-05-09T12:32:00.001-07:00

The journey starts here!

Thank you for allowing me to share with you about an exciting opportunity I have to join my father, for the first time, on the mission field. In August we will be traveling to the Democratic Republic of Congo while representing Enduring Treasure Ministries and in partnership with a team from Eden Mission based out of Texas. We will be traveling to the area of Bunia, which is in northeastern Congo, not easily reached. It is there we will encourage the people in their spiritual walks and their family’s development. Our goal will be to come alongside and train the Congolese people in building healthy families that love and serve God. As well as doing some manual labor projects in the community to build up the physical church in that area.

Many of the people we will be training, are members of a church that was planted by a man who was first introduced to me a couple years ago named Kenneth Rwego. Upon meeting Kenneth I was immediately struck by the passion he has for the people of Congo and with his willingness to do whatever God has called him to in an effort to serve and reach those most in need. Enduring Treasure Ministries has been in partnership with Kenneth to develop some of the curriculum used by the church he leads, not only for the adults but also specifically designed material for the children that attend. This church is creating a strong pocket of revival in a very dark corner of the world, and God is doing a great work in the hearts and lives of families that have, for too long, felt forgotten.

The Rwego Family

For years Congo has held a very special place in my heart and I find it to be such a great honor for me fulfill a long time desire to not only join my father on this journey but also to stand shoulder to shoulder with these fellow believers and remind them of just how important they are to God. Will you join me in encouraging them?

We are scheduled to leave August 19th and plan on returning on the 30th depending on flight availability in and out of the country. With all expenses considered, it will cost roughly $3500 for me to go. Because I will be taking the time off from work and leaving my wife and our three-year-old at home, I will be unable to carry the cost myself. I will be completely dependent on you and the generosity of His Church to make this happen. If you are able to give financially, you can follow the steps below.

If you are unable to give at this time, that’s ok too! I need prayer partners! I need friends that can give a little bit of time each day to help get me prepared for this trip and for endurance once I arrive. As I mentioned, I will be leaving my son Andrew in my wife Katie’s capable hands, but be praying for them as well as this will be the first time we will have been apart for this long and at this distance. Be praying for wisdom and discernment as we teach and strength as we will be pouring out as much of ourselves into this area as possible while we are there.

Thank you so much for your willingness to help reach the lost and encourage the Church around the globe. I am excited to see how God uses me in this unique experience and I look forward to sharing with the people of Congo how much they mean to you and to God.
Thank you for your consideration and support.

If you would like to send your support via check, you can mail it to:
Enduring Treasure Ministries
P.O. Box 97
St. Peters, MO 63376

Or if you would prefer to make a secure donation online, you can click this link to visit Enduring Treasure Ministries and click the DONATE button on the bottom of the page. In the line marked "special instructions", type, "Joe Cox DRC trip" and the funds will we directed to an account set up just for me on this trip.

All donations are tax deductible and a receipt can be issued upon request.

Three Favorite Things

2017-01-10T10:39:00.001-08:00

This, but with more yelling.

Getting to school was always an adventure for our family. And we have tried every way imaginable to make it easier. Sometimes my parents would drop us off. We took the bus for a while there, which for a shy kid like me was tough to do every day dealing with the scramble for a seat, kids yelling over each other all while the driver was desperately trying to maintain their own sanity. We moved to a neighborhood close to the school when I was in 4th grade and we walked to school most of the time. Then again, it was the midwest, so if it was raining, snowing, too hot or too cold, we would convince Mom or Dad to drop us off. When you have four elementary kids and an infant to tow around it gets complicated. Later when you have one kid going to private school, one in public high school, two in Jr. High, and one in elementary school, it gets a bit crazy.

If you come from a family of several kids like mine or even if your family only had one or two kids, you know there are some days when you have plenty of time and other days when you barely stop before everyone jumps out of the car to make it on time. No matter how late we were running my parents had a rule that was strictly enforced before we exited the vehicle. We had to kiss them goodbye. It did not matter if we were late, we had to kiss them. it didn't matter if other kids were watching, we had to kiss them. it didn't matter if we screamed at each other the whole way there because of some wardrobe choice that wasn't agreed upon, we had to kiss them.

Some days it only fueled the fire of whatever argument was taking place especially if it was something surrounding the ongoing debate on how grown up we were and how we should be allowed to make our own decisions. But on most occasions, it wasn't a big deal. it was something we did because it was expected or because they wanted it. Looking back though it was really so much more than that. It gave us a few seconds to reset before we walked in the doors of our school. It gave us something to hang onto on the days when we didn't feel confident in ourselves among the clicks at school. If we had a bad day or were just feeling down, we could remember that we were loved and that we had a home to go to where that love was unconditional.

More than that, it was a way for us to honor our father and mother. By placing that relationship higher than the possible reactions from friends that might see us or the personal embarrassment one might feel as a seventeen-year-old smooching his dad, we showed with an outward sign of affection, that reaffirmed our parents as primary players in our lives. Every day we would kiss them and they would holler after us as we jumped out of the van, "Remember who you belong to". This was to encourage us to stand out from the crowd and remind us that we represent our parents, our family and that we ultimately belonged to God.

I have recently begun playing a game with my son to encourage him to let me kiss him. He is three and does not have the time or patience any longer to be held or cuddled. So I make him give me my three favorite things; hugs, kisses, and tickles. I get to squeeze him and kiss him quick and get a quick giggle and he knows that he gets to keep playing after he lets me. This has been going on for the last several months and we have both enjoyed the quick reconnect time once or twice a day performing this ritual. A few mornings ago, it really paid off.

It has been snowing record amounts here in Boise so I have been driving him to and from daycare to relieve my wife's stress level a bit. We went through our normal morning routine and when we arrived at his "school", because of the bad weather there were only a handful of other kids. It was eerily quiet when we walked in and the mood was definitely different than the busy chaos that normally dominates the room. We took off his coat and shoes, as is the custom but when I went to leave and say goodbye he stopped me and pulled me aside. "Can I have your three favorite things?" My heart melted. "Of course kiddo!" We hugged and I kissed him on the cheek. I went to tickle him and he smiled but didn't laugh. He was still nervous for the day. I reminded him he needed to be good and that when I was done with work I would pick him up and we can have more time later to play and get tickles. He laughed out loud and marched into class.

Not actually us, but I would be happy to pose if asked.

I almost lost it leaving that day but I knew he was good. We had reset for the day and at the end of everything we would be at home again enjoying each other's company. Probably playing cars or trains. More than likely watching another repeat episode of Paw Patrol. But no matter what we will be doing, he will be doing it knowing he is loved and that he can always come to me for my three favorite things.

Response

2016-11-15T10:07:00.000-08:00

Weddings are wonderful events. With flowers and ribbons strung all over the room, people are bustling around trying to make everything perfect. It is a carefully planned chaos that produces an enjoyable experience for everyone in attendance and for two of the people it will be life changing. Up to the last second, there is usually at least one person still tufting this or that arrangement, ensuring every detail is just so. Family and friends begin to arrive wearing their best. Weddings usually transform into an impromptu family reunion and emotions that were already elevated will overflow into hugs and squeals and the occasional cheek pinching from one’s aunt. As the moment approaches, conversations swell and the excitement climbs. The pastor or officiate enters and people start to find their seats for the main event. Men adjust their ties and straighten their jackets for the last time and the women smile and wave at friends from across the room as they smooth out the wrinkles on their laps.

The music strikes up and the conversations begin to die down. The groom and his groomsmen march in single file to the front and center of attention. All of them nervous that they will be the one to faint in front of everybody. But the attention on the front of the room is short lived because everyone there knows what happens next.

Before the miles of tulle were being strung from the rafters and before the guests arrived, the bride was preparing herself. She is not only preparing herself to look composed enough to parade in front of everyone she knows. She is preparing herself for her groom. When those doors open and he sees her there, it will be a moment remembered by both of them for the rest of their lives. She will work to make herself the most beautiful she has ever been. Hair, nails, dress, makeup, something old, new, borrowed, blue and every piece must be perfect. She wants so badly to present herself at her very finest to the person she longs to be with for the rest of her life. She is anxious but confident of the groom’s reaction. He knows her better than anyone else. He has seen her on her best day and has stuck with her through the rough ones. The relationship between them is not determined by her appearance but she desires to impress him nonetheless.

The music swells and the doors swing wide to reveal the bride in all of her splendor. The crowd in attendance rises and stands in reverence. As she steps forward into the light, she locks eyes on the one person that she is there for, the groom. His eyes instantly swell up but he pulls back the tears. He promised he wouldn’t cry but more importantly, he doesn’t want to miss a single second of her procession. She walks slowly as the details of her appearance are taken in by all around her. Her countenance is regal as she glides toward the front of the room. His palms are sweaty as the severe reality strikes him. She is soon to be his and he, hers. The moment they have been waiting weeks, months and in some cases, years has finally arrived.

Weddings are also just an event. It is a public declaration of a personal relationship that has already been established. Nothing changes between the two people meeting on the stage. They came together loving each other and when they leave they will still love each other only now they have a signed piece of paper stating it. They will share their vows to one another out loud in front of everyone declaring the level of commitment they have for the other, but those vows were made long before that moment with a quiet whisper of resolve in their hearts.

The ceremony itself is an outward display of what the two people are promising to each other. It might involve a candle lighting or a rope braiding or a walk together around the altar. In some cases, poems or songs are exchanged together with rings and vows. If you have been to more than one wedding, you have probably noticed some similarities in the service. One or more of three verses from scripture will be read. The officiate will announce several statements that will sound familiar almost to the point where you know what they will say next. The order of services is very similar and if you were to see a picture or watch a video of a wedding taking place, it wouldn’t take you long to know what was happening because weddings, for the most part, all look somewhat the same too. The special part of a wedding is what can not be seen. Two people promising themselves to each other before the people present and before God. The outward display of an inward emotion toward another is the reason we celebrate.

But our celebration takes on an interesting form at a wedding. While everyone one present is excited and hearts are fluttering, we sit still and listen. We watch and we reflect on our own relationships and remember the promises we have made perhaps to the person sitting next to us. As a single person at a wedding, it might cause you to look forward with hope to a similar future with someone special or to look around with contentment at the life you have created for yourself. Tears of happy reflection and quiet joy flow as the vows are repeated. No one shouts. No one stands up and draws the attention to themselves. Although you have been invited to participate, this event is not just about you. It is about all of us sharing in something special.

When we gather to worship, whether it be in song or giving or any other type of corporate worship, the response should be similar. There are places and events that we should absolutely dance and shout for Jesus, but when we gather together we should be mindful of those around us. Perhaps they do not have such a close and familiar relationship with God. Maybe they have never heard, let alone studied, about the spiritual gifts sometimes expressed in church services. We should be taking the time as a body to reflect inwardly on our relationship with God and our commitment to Him. We should be reverent of the members of the body leading us through worship. We should feel welcome to participate not just individually but as a body. We should sing together, give together, pray together, confess together, encourage together. There is a tone of formality that goes along with a church service or a worship time, but that is there as a structure to help guide us to closer worship and eliminate distractions not to box us in.

We are the bride and our focus should be on the bridegroom and the promise we made in our hearts to Him. We have dedicated our lives to Him, and He has given His life for us. Our response to Him should be one of celebration, respect, sincerity, and joy.

Lessons Learned

2015-05-12T12:39:00.000-07:00

It was the last day of my senior year in high school. I had already met the hours requirement to graduate so I had taken a slew of classes keeping in line with my feelings about my last year here. Advanced American Literature, Weight Lifting, Creative Writing II, Home Economics, and Drama.

I had always experienced severe anxiety when it came to being in front of people, as early on as 2nd grade show and tell, but here I was taking drama. It was a requirement to participate in the school productions and I auditioned like I was supposed to not realizing I would end up a principle player in both an ensemble production and a musical that year. I enjoyed the class and it taught me a lot about what I was capable of and how to be comfortable outside my safe, normal group of friends and how to relax and have fun in front of strangers. This was a set of skills I would use almost everyday, at work, at church, just about everywhere. I learned other valuable lessons there but some of the most important lessons were learned the very last day of class.

Each teacher does their own thing the last week of school. Some want to cram as much last minute knowledge into you to help prepare you for the world ahead of you. Some want to allow you to express yourself while still within the safe confines of a controlled classroom setting. The teachers that have been around long enough understand however, the majority of the student body has really already mentally checked out and doesn't care or appreciate anything to be learned in those last days. My drama teacher understood this better than anyone. He prepared us the day before, we would be learning a new skill we didn't know we had. We rolled our eyes, determined not to be impressed as the bell rang and we all filed out.

When we came back to class the next day, the room was empty. No desk, no chairs, not even the platform we used for practicing our skits. The floor was bare. The only thing remaining was the handful of playbills and posters from previous performances hanging on the wall. We were each given an item to hold. Some had tennis balls, others had hacky sacks, and a handful of us were issued socks filled with sand. "In the next five minutes, if you do what I tell you to do exactly as I tell you, you will all learn how to juggle. We will spend the rest of the class time practicing." We scoffed. How would he do this? Teach all of us? To juggle? Isn't juggling something it takes months for professional clowns to learn? Does he think we are only capable of being clowns?

Unbeknownst to most of us, our teacher was a an avid juggler. He would go to carnivals and amusement parks over the summer and juggle full time. He started us out slowly, showing us how to toss the object back and forth. Once we got comfortable with one, he gave out second items and walked us through the over/under. After about two minutes, we were given a third item and with in the promised five minutes, the entire class was juggling. Soon we were teaming up and tossing things across the room between six of us. He gathered us in a circle and we all juggled together crisscrossing back and forth.

The bell rang and we left class with a strange new ability. Occasionally over the summer, I would pick up some tangerines out of the fruit bowl or grab three rocks off the path and just toss them around. I am still not even close to professional status, but I can juggle just about anything for a little while. Staplers, hatchets, basketballs, you name it.

But juggling was not all I learned on the last day of school. What I learned was I wasn't done learning. If I try something new and practice, I can figure out just about anything. I watched a great teacher take a group of skeptical kids and reveal to them an ability they didn't know they had. He took five minutes and gave us all, not just a new trick, but an icebreaker for parties, a boredom buster for those long lines we would endure when appearing for jury duty, and an opportunity to encourage others. Every chance I get, I teach people to juggle. Watching them struggle at first is always entertaining but seeing them realize their own capabilities in the end is magical.

That day revealed a lot to me about myself. I love to learn. I love to teach. I have talents even I don't know about. Never in a million years did I think that last day of school would be one of the most educational.

Let's Take a Bath

2015-04-28T11:07:00.000-07:00

My son gets filthy easily. He collects dirt and grime in places I didn't know were possible from things I didn't know you could get dirty from. He is a typical boy so he loves to play outside and pick up dirt and sticks and of course the occasional bug here and there, but he will get dirty just playing Legos or trucks inside. My wife and I are not the “sanitize the shopping cart before you put a child in it” kind of parents. We both grew up in big families where if you didn't eat the cookie that fell on the floor, you were not getting a cookie. We both survived childhood just fine. At the same time, we don’t want to be the parents of the smelly kid. Bath time is a must. Fortunately, we have a good bath taker. As soon as I say the words, “Let’s take a bath”, his eyes light up and he runs to the guest bathroom.

Confession: I am a little OCD. By that I mean, for me, there is a right and a wrong way of doing almost everything. My morning routine is ridged. So strict in fact, if I try to sleep in even a few minutes or skip my shower (I’m talking Saturdays here. Don’t judge me) my entire day is thrown off and I get sick to my stomach and feel physically terrible all day. Needless to say, I handle bath time in the same way.

Since day one (or more correctly day 3) I have walked him through his bath routines step by step. I talk him through everything. Getting adjusted to the water temperature, what parts of his body we are scrubbing, and of course, the best way to splash around and make bubbles. Now that he is 1 ½, the routine begins before we even get in the water.

When bath time is announced, we both go to the door of the bathroom and he waits for me to turn on the light. Once illuminated, the bathroom becomes our new play place. While I move the shower curtain out of the way and get the water and bubbles going, his job is to pick what toys he wants in with him. We have a small shower caddy with the bath toys and he will pick them out one by one. In no particular order, the boat, the guy, the fish, the whale, the blue cup, the baby frog, the daddy frog, and the toot-toot. And they will eventually all go in, but he will pull one out, try to say its name, and throw it into the roaring water.

Once the water is started and the toys are in, we have just enough time while we wait for the bath to fill up, for us to go get ready. He runs over to his room, and waits for me at his changing table so we can take his clothes off. Once ready to go, I pick him up around his chest facing me. Why do I carry him like that? Because “mommy likes the booty”. My wife will hide on either side of his door and surprise him with butt pinches as we walk across the hall back to the bath. It is one of his favorite parts and he squeals and laughs and kicks his little chubby legs as fast as he can every time. I have no intention of changing that portion of our routine anytime soon.

I set him in the water and he begins to talk to his toys placing “the guy” on “the boat” and making car noises as he moves it through the piles of bubbles. As I pour water on his head and back he cringes to adjust to the warmth. I lather his head and start washing him talking him through each part. Neck and ears first and then it’s ears, shoulders, arms, hands, back, belly, legs, and toes. He keeps playing and I sit back and watch him. He is so big. I know when other people look at him they see a tiny child, but I see a big boy, learning and growing everyday. I saw him the very second he entered this world, helpless and unsure, needing constant soothing and care. Now he plays on his own in the water. I am needed less and less as a comfort as he becomes steadily more independent. It is at this moment he again surprises me.

He turn his head to look over at me, knowing I would be watching him. He grins, seeing his assumptions were correct, and scoots closer to the tub wall where I am kneeling. He puts down “the baby frog”, cocks his head to the side, and reaches for me. Not to pick him up or to convince me to play. He grabs my finger tightly as though he were tiny once again and doing it for the first time. Then he slowly caresses my hand, turning it over to check the other side. Satisfied, he looks at the other hand and touches my ring. He wiggles it back and forth to see it shine in the light. He laughs out loud, smiles again at me, and goes back to splashing, making as much noise doing so as he can.

Water is everywhere. The bath mat I am kneeling on is soaked and the shirt I am wearing looks like I just got back from the gym on a cardio day. The towel I have on the floor next to me is no longer able to dry anything. I should get a new one while he is distracted, but I wait. I honestly do not want to miss a second of the fun. We play with the frogs and we pass the blue cup back and forth making funny noises into it. A few more minutes and bath time is over. We start to drain the water and he hands me one toy at a time to put back into the caddy. I grab a second dry towel and wrap it around him as I scoop him up in my arms. He giggles and makes noises with his tongue as I dry him off.

Before we leave to go put pajamas on and begin our get-ready-for-bed routine, we make funny faces at the mirror. Looking at the reflection, I see a happy boy making silly faces, laughing with his best friend… his son.

Tiny Moment

2015-04-02T09:58:00.001-07:00

It really is too early. The sun is not up yet. The birds are not even awake. After forcing myself out of bed and into the shower, struggling each step of the way, I am finally ready to begin. I may have already walked around a while and gone through the motions of what little it takes to get a man dressed in the morning, but only now am I slowly waking up. The only sound I can hear is the baby monitor echoing the music from my son’s sound machine throughout the living room. The same lullaby on repeat at a soft volume interrupted only occasionally by a cough or a heavy sigh and even sometimes, the tiniest and cutest of snores.

I put my shoes on and fill my pockets with the days supplies; wallet, keys, phone, note to myself to email that guy later today. Check.

My son has been growing so much lately. They say time flies by and before you know it they are grown up and have children of their own. It is completely true. They really do grow up fast, but in the morning, I still get to enjoy him as a little one in a few small ways. He still drinks milk for breakfast with me and so I make him a cup and I pick up some toys left out from before.

Then I hear it. The small squeak of his crib in the monitor as he starts shuffling himself awake. He hears me moving around in our tiny apartment. He can hear when I turn the water on for my shower and the fridge door opening when I reach for the milk. All of these noises must be a comfort to him since he wakes up so quietly. He will coo to himself quietly and wiggle in his bed until I come in to get him.

This part has become my favorite of our morning routine in the last several months. As I slowly open the door and let the light from the other room peek into his, I see only his short silhouette sitting up in the corner. He has his blanket wrapped all around himself. He gets that from his mother. He looks up at me and smiles at me with eyes not quite opened. I whisper to him “good morning”. He sighs heavily with a grin still fixed between those two chipmunk cheeks.

I lean over the railing and scoop him up under his arms and his blanket comes along. He leans back from my chest to double check that it’s me. He smiles once more but then the smile goes flat and I think we may have a noisy morning ahead of us. As his smile fades, his head droops and our foreheads softly meet. He sighs heavily again and turns his head to rest it on my shoulder. He is tired but not sleeping. Awake but not eager to leave my arms. His music plays on and the hall light is still dim all around us.

He just breathes. I rub his back. We sway slowly side to side as the lullaby serenades us repetitively. He snuggles into me pulling my shoulder closer to himself. I squeeze him gently as not to disrupt this rare minute of pure cuddling. For several minutes we stand there, him in my arms feeling safe and resting and me not too sure what is happening or why. Thought start racing in my head; “we are going to be late”, “I hope he isn’t sick”, “don’t stop rubbing his back or else he’ll start moving again”. And then the moment sinks in and I am at peace. It doesn’t matter if we are a few minutes late. Enjoy him. Love him. Make sure he feels like there is nothing else in the world that matters, and in this one second in time, nothing else does. I stop rocking him and hold my hand still on the middle of his back and feel his little heartbeat. The same heartbeat that two years ago changed my world forever now is what fills my heart with love and peace.

I softly squeeze him again and he sits up, smiles at me, and rests his forehead on mine. Still smiling at one another, we stand there for a moment more before he turns his cheek and presses it to my lips. I kiss him as he takes another big breath and settles back again into my arms.

I lay him down and change him. We walk to the kitchen and he drinks his milk. We get his bag ready together and head out to the car. As I carry him to the car he rests his head on my shoulder once more and laughs, sits up again and smiles revealing all eight or so teeth.

Today was much like every other day. We did all the same things we normally do. Tomorrow will be another. But today I was ten minutes late for work and I do not at all feel sorry about that.

Morning Adventures Part II

2013-10-30T22:46:00.000-07:00

Deep inhale. Slow exhale. Let's go.

The breeze is stiff and cold mimicking the way my legs feel. I jump a little to get the blood flowing and to remind my feet that they need to be awake for this. As I make my way to the end of the driveway doing arm stretches I learned in gym class circa 1987. Arm circles are totally what I need to do to prepare for the workout ahead.

One more deep breath knowing it will be my last full intake for a while and I begin. Pat, pat, pat, pat. I watch my feet move one in front of the other, almost not having to think about it but feeling tired already. I make it to the end of the block before my knee starts to freeze up and my ankle tightens to compensate. Stupid ankle. I push on trying to take in the early morning and savor it's innocence.

There is no one else out on the street but me. My neighbors are awake but they had the sense to remain indoors with their warm cups of coffee and their comfy couches. I see the windows glow with the flicker of the television set on the morning news or perhaps the infomercial on from the channel being watched the night before. That vacuum is amazing I must admit but I am sure the only purpose it serves this early is as background noise for teeth brushing and face shaving. I wonder how many of those vacuums they sell at 5:10 in the morning...

The yellow house with the brick mailbox catches my attention as the lawn sprinklers come to life. Someone doesn't understand that grass doesn't need to be watered twice a day this late in the fall. Oh well. I jog past the streams of water, being soothed by the soft shhhhh of the spray. I race the overflow in the gutter to the corner and make the turn thinking here would be a good spot to stop and take a breather but I hear my high school track coach's voice in my head telling my to "pick your feet up" and "mind over matter". He was also the science teacher so he used that last one a lot.

I take the advice to heart and press on. A dog barks which of course on this block leads to all the dogs barking at each other. Once the chatter dies down and I focus again on my breath or lack thereof. The road stretches out ahead of me, beckoning me to conquer it. Just you wait road. You'll get what's coming to you soon enough.

Morning Adventure Part I

2013-10-29T21:29:00.002-07:00

Chimes.

What I thought would be the least annoying of the cell phone alarms, seem to come from a demon's triangle at 5am. After straining to reach it, and fumbling with it to get my code entered and the alarm turned off, my brain is officially strained before any real activity begins. I sigh heavily and fling my feet off the side of the bed in one motion. I have the same feeling I get when I jump into a pool in mid October but it's always better than the slow adjustment and eventual disappointment of slippers and a housecoat.

Tripping over my own foot and jamming my toe on the carpet, I make my way to the bathroom. Just to pee. Looking in the mirror at this hour of the day has never done anyone any good. One more heavy sigh, and I open the door as quietly as possible to not disturb my love who has now moved over to my side of the bed and already has a firm grip on my pillow. Looks like I'm not crawling back into bed after all.

I grab a pair of shorts from the dresser, and head to the living room. I don't know why, but I like getting ready here. More space I guess to spread out. I lace up my shoes and grab a light jacket from the coat closet, check my pocket for the house key and although I know she remains asleep, I slowly open and close the front door like a ninja as I tiptoe outside.

Deep inhale. Slow exhale. Let's go.

Epitaph For A Friend

2013-10-21T22:33:00.003-07:00

He was the best friend that made other friends more comfortable. He was the dedicated and loyal one I came home to for years. He made himself available no matter what. When I needed someone to talk to or go out with, he was always there to encourage me. No matter what time of day or night, he was there for me. He listened, he cared, he felt what I felt. He came to me when he was hurting and I clung to him in times when I felt so alone.

At 3:15pm on October 19th, my closest friend in the world was laid to rest in the company and comfort of his family.

Tyson was not just my dog he was my boy. This wound up 2 year old puppy was given to me by a close friend, Mike, and it was an obvious instant connection. He came to me as a dog without a purpose but his purpose was soon revealed. As things in my world slowly came apart, he was my constant. He was with me on beautiful days outside chasing squirrels and sleeping on the floor beside me in front of the fireplace on the rainy ones. We shared the couch for movie nights and shared the comfort of each other on a daily basis.

Waking up to his whining in the morning on days I tried to sleep in. Playing tug of war with the rope and fetch with the stuffed duck. Running up and down the stairs a dozen times in a row. Scratching his belly and rubbing his ears. Wiping his slobber off my arm and his hair off my clothes. Feeding him, training him, teaching him tricks. He could jump up to the top bunk on a set of beds, roll over, shake hands, and respond to a series of clicks, whistles, and hand signals. These were my daily activities with him and I loved every minute of it.

If you were a child he would only play as hard as you wanted. If you were afraid of dogs, he would set you at ease. He was comforting and kind. He was loving and thoughtful. He was considerate and sweet.

He was a good dog.

He has been a key member of my family for over 8 years and has meant something special to many. He was the deciding factor on some major life choices my family made including where we moved and how we lived. Many of our plans revolved around his schedule and I believe he understood that sacrifice.

He was the best dog.

I believe he knew me better than many of my friends have. He has been with me through 5 moves, a divorce a marriage, and the torture of my newborn niece. He was my sole travel companion on my trip to California in the backseat of my tiny car. He adjusted well to the dramatic changes we experienced together and he did it with patience and understanding.

In the last year his health has quickly declined and it has been hard watching him hurt physically knowing he was completely content being with us. It was a hard decision and a tough day but I know he understood that I was taken care of and that what was happening was for his own good. I sat with him afterward for a long time feeling his fur under my fingers for the last time. He sighed hard and let go softly.

I will miss him because I loved him.

He was my best friend.

Maybe Just As Fair

2013-05-26T20:55:00.001-07:00


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken

In this classic piece, he describes the choice between the two roads and how that choice, looking back over a lifetime of additional choices has made all the difference. But what is not shared is what the decision would have brought had he chosen the other path. The truth is of course as relayed to us in the above poem, that we can only go one way before that choice begins to determine the way we see the world from then on.

What is not said is that the road less traveled is the better road. What would happen if he would have gone down the trail that others have taken? I am of course removing the metaphor here but the beauty of taking the well worn trail is the shared experience of that trail's journey. Once at the end he would meet others who have traveled that same trail, seen the same views, possibly tripped by that same rock on that one turn; you know the corner right after that huge oak tree with the branch that dips down overhead as though it is trying to reach down to you and grab you by the hand...

I love to be alone. I treasure the time I have to spend on a quiet run (although it is more walking lately) or the drive in the morning with the radio off listening to the quiet hum of the tire and the road or the soothing rhythm of my own footsteps. I love it but there is definitely something to be said about having a shared experience whether it be a good one the you regret later or one you tell your children about, whether it be with strangers or with loved ones, those shared sights and sounds are worth, every now and then, getting off the quiet trail and joining in the march together. When you do at least you know your fate will not be yours alone and that regardless of the destination, you will have picked up a few friends to remember "that one time when..."

Reminder

2013-04-15T21:16:00.000-07:00

The events of the day should serve as a reminder to us. Not necessarily that we are a nation despised or a nation prepared. Not specifically that we have great leadership or wonderful volunteers. Today should serve as a reminder of what your life is really all about.

I know that sounds a little too deep and way to general so I will share with you only what went through my head today when I heard. I thought about home. Who was at home or where they might be if not. I thought about the people who would not be going home tonight but instead to a hospital or nowhere else ever again. I thought "what can I do?" but that was immediately replaced with "what am I doing?" and for the rest of the afternoon, the life I live seemed to be a distraction to my own thoughts.

The fact that every second of our lives is now in some way being recorded astonished me. It blew me away at how many different angles and vantage points were recording the stragglers of a race already won more than two hours earlier. I watched with horror over and over again, the reactions of those nearest the first event. There were all sorts of different people from different backgrounds and they all reacted instantly at the same moment.

Some dropped for cover and hid. Others grabbed the nearest person to them and held them close. Some just stood there and wondered what could possibly be happening while still others made a 180 and ran to assist those who needed it. I watched one man just a few feet away from finishing what I imagine was a goal taking up several months if not more of his life. Surprised by the noise and then turned around and went to help. All that training and work and it was more important to aid the wounded then to complete his own goals.

I have nothing to say about those no longer with us today. I did not know them or their lives but they did teach us to live in the moment and perhaps their loss can serve as a reminder to us to reset our own goals and perhaps make sure we don't turn our backs on those that need it to fulfill our own wants or needs.

The Best Kind Of Friend

2013-04-11T21:39:00.001-07:00

Friends come in many shapes, sizes, colors and backgrounds. Some are good for a lifetime and some are good for a short while. There are those whose shoulders you lean on in tough times and different ones when you need a laugh. It is hard to imagine life without all the diverse types of friends you meet along the way.

One of my favorite kinds of friends are those that love you no matter what and in doing so will tell you how it is whether you want to hear it or not.

At first it may sound like I am describing the funny friend but that is a totally different friend. The funny friend tells you a joke or a crazy, generally unbelievable story about who knows what. But when they share with you the one about the preacher and a rabbi deciding who jumps first, it is exactly what you need to hear at that moment. A little distraction from the terrible situation you're dealing with or the ticket you got that afternoon for going five over the limit. But I am not highlighting that friend today.

The friend I would like to place on the pedistool is the one that tells it like it is. The good with the bad. Sometimes with good timing, but mostly not. The things they say stick in your head and haunt you like a "you know you can do better" ghost. They say things like "you're a better person than that" and "you are someone special to someone" and "i miss when we used to be friends" or one of my new ones "Hmmm, too vague. Try again".

I love that friend. That is a person that cares about you so much they want to see you at your best. They want you to succeed and many times at the cost of your own pride and dignity. So the next time you feel your self needing a real boost, a life changing, direction altering, dig a little deeper boost, call that friend up and let them tell you how it is. And by all means take what they have to say to heart.

They are your friend after all...

Sudden Celebrity

2013-04-10T22:43:00.001-07:00

Entertainers have been around as log as the human has needed to be entertained. That is, since there were humans. It has always been a necessity for people to be able to loose themselves in a spoken poem or drama or viral video, if only for a couple of minutes once in a while. Doing this allows us to put our own lives into perspective and to help guide our dreams, expand our creativity or to simply remember that one time Doug caught that fish and it was "this big".

Although entertainment has been common enough throughout the centuries the people that bring us that entertainment are (pardon the pun) dramatically different. In previous ages, entertainers were schooled in the arts. They were well versed in history, literature, makeup, costumes and so on and their profession was to be an actor or a storyteller. For the most part the entertainers we still mention today were at least by the end, intentional in their craft. However today it is a different creature that we flock towards.

Enter the sudden celebrity. This person has not ever even thought about being famous or being the one people look to. This person stumbled (sometime literally) into a video someone shot on their phone and BAM! Instant fame. This person has never raised his or her hand in elementary school and now they have people asking for their autograph and to have their picture taken with them. The rapid change from nobody to somebody is hard to handle. Ask "Joe the Plumber" or "Balloon Boy" or one of the hundreds of regular people that are thrust into the lime light by the masses begging for a minute of distraction.

Even in the last decade or so, we went from having "A List" celebrities to people that are famous now, just for being famous. Since when were famous people offered to do tv shows after they were famous? Shouldn't they prove first that they can be good entertainers before we dump on them the duty of constant celebrity?

I wonder if the history books will mention along with names like Thespis and Ariston will mention the cast of Big Brother season 13 or Antoine Dodson. Probably not. Not that those people are not special in their own way but let's not deem them celebrities just yet. And let's not rely on them or anyone else with that title to solve the worlds problems. Thanks for trying anyway Sean.

Dear To My Heart

2013-04-09T20:46:00.002-07:00

(In no particular order and in no way all inclusive)

my wife

my mother

my father

my sister

my other sister

my brother

my other brother

(both from other mothers)

my wife's family and what can now be called my new one

my friends in Temecula

my friends in St. Louis

my friends in all the places I have lived, worked, done ministry and played

my dog

...just for starters

The Mystery Of Why

2013-04-08T22:06:00.000-07:00

There are several stages of childhood. There are the fussy newborns where everyone including the child is figuring things out. It takes a few months and soon behaviors develop that are cute and endearing. A funny look and a glimmer of personality and then it turns into the early ones. They begin to crawl, stand and soon walk and right about that time they learn the words they hear the most. For the large majority of kids, that word is "no". Cute at first, it soon becomes an annoyance but at least they are learning and beginning to show you they understand what is happening around them.

The weeks fly by and then the milestone everyone knows and loves arrives. The "terrible twos". Many experts argue for and against the label but I think we all have seen the evidence of the demographic. But the time continues to move and shortly the threes rear up and dominate all the frustrations of "no".

The "no" quickly transitions to "why" and then it is all down from here. They challenge every decision made and every tidbit of wisdom of you are willing to offer there empty and un-experienced minds.

But there is a lot of awesome in the amount of curiosity they have. It is a good practice to continue especially now that you think you know everything. Try asking why when you are commuting to work two hours a day to a job you kind of like sometimes. Ask why when you shop, ask why when you workout, ask why when you think you know something. Challenge it.

Congo's Day

2012-10-18T22:41:00.000-07:00

I have had Congo on my heart a lot lately. Partly due to the relationship shared by my father, partly the situation that the country finds itself in today, and partly it simply fascinates me. I have been learning much about the people of Congo and the day to day misery that has become the norm for the millions who live there.

I have a lot to say about Africa although I have never been. Correction: I have a lot to feel about Africa. I have been given the chance of a lifetime to go this coming summer to train children's workers but I am struck to learn about what is happening, not only in the rural areas where water is in short supply and food is scarce but in the cities as well where the sick can not get the care they need and millions of children roam the streets abandoned by their hopeless families or orphaned by the war that no one knows how it began or when if ever it will end.

The most curious thing about Africa and specifically the Republic of Congo, is that they are not asking for aid. They are not swarming the missionaries there to assist them with finding new water sources. They are not asking for donations of money or medicine. The people of Congo are begging, with tears in their eyes, that we help them teach their children. Not to teach them English or math or even technical skills. They are crying out for knowledge on how to reach the next generation with the love of God.

This unfortunately is the beginning of an inconvenient narrative on the effectiveness of missions today in that area. It is so much easier to drop a bag of clothes into the anonymous bin in the grocery store parking lot and feel like we did some good in the world. But the truth is, they know the way for them to become successful as a nation, as a people, is for them to help themselves. They understand that no nation has climbed it's way out of poverty based on the charity of other nations. They are crying out for the skills to reveal God to the young and the hopeless and finally offer them something greater than themselves. The men and women making a difference in Congo are not the President or his minions or even the growing rebel groups spread throughout the country. They are the Sunday school teachers and they are the moms and dads that have made the decision to live a life that honors God above all else and at whatever the cost. And many times that cost is their own lives.

As I mentioned, I have a lot more to share on this topic but for now I will leave you with the phrase that many there continue to repeat as they encourage us to come back to them. I pray that it will haunt you. And when you think of it (and you will) that God will break your heart just for a second and you will stop and pray for Congo:

"Today is Congo's day"

Nerds

2012-10-17T22:32:00.000-07:00

It takes all kinds of people in this world to make it interesting. Specifically, the nerds. I feel like I need to define what I believe to be a nerd before continuing any further. I believe it is someone that takes a hobby way too seriously. A person that focuses in on something fun and interesting and tun it into a way of life. Sometimes this attitude or interest can be so mild it can at times go unnoticed. But for a nerd, this hobby, form of entertainment, or even sport is almost a religion to the point of putting others off and sometimes even offending them.

There are slow food nerds, bicycling nerds, and workout nerds. These are all fun and even good for you in moderation but for a nerd, if you don't practice these everyday all day, that makes you less. There are chess nerds, physics nerds, and computer gadget nerds (PC and whatever that other one is called). Nice to have the knowledge, but when you are not buying food this week so you can be the first guy with the newest technical calculator the day it comes out...that doesn't seem logical.

There are of course the fun kind of nerds. These are the guys that take something we all enjoy a little and over analyze it to death. There are Star Trek nerds and Star Wars nerds (do not get those two confused). There are twitter nerds and facebook nerds. There are drama nerds and TV nerds. Film geeks and theater freaks. Cos play and role play. Something that is really fun for a bit but blown way out of proportion.

The reason I am talking nerds so much is because the other day I had a thought: what if all the nerds (and we are all one kind or another) spent all the time and money that we spent on those things and focused them on things that matter? How many lives could change if the guy that built a life sized replica of the ship on Firefly (the ship's name is Serenity. Again, we are all nerds here.) and instead gave even just half of that to a homeless shelter? What would happen if instead of focusing on one of life's passions, we focused on our purpose?

We all have passions. We all have a purpose. Our purpose on this planet, right now, today is not to amass the world's largest Superman memorabilia collection. Our purpose is not to study the Star Wars encyclopedia so we can analyze why George Lucas made Han shoot second in the remake.Our purpose isn't even to study the elvish poems from Lord of the Rings. Our purpose is to serve one another. To make life better for our fellow man. To love one another and to sacrifice for those that are truly in need. If we were so passionate about ending world hunger we poured ourselves into it the same amount of hope and spirit we do into the playoffs every year.

Imagine what the world would be like if our passions were our purpose and our purpose was our passion.

Waiting Games

2012-08-15T21:09:00.002-07:00

Open the door and you immediately regret the decision to do this today. But it is near the end of the month and you have put it off long enough. So you tell yourself but a part of you still knows this is not a great way to start the day. You walk past the three spiked hair, wish they could be shirtless right now, crossfit guys on their phones, pretending to talk to someone so they seem important. No doubt they are here because the one friend that drives needed to pay a ticket or something. You walk past the teen that just finished the exam and can't wait to get out there and show us all how its done. You walk up to the red ticket machine and pull a number. Eighty-four. Not to bad. At least it isn't in the hundreds, you think as you scan the room for a spot to prop up in and claim for yourself in the midst of the chaos. You take your coat off and then you hear it. "Next! Number seventeen!" Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach and you sigh. In that moment you realize you are just another faceless member of the herd. You sigh a deep, dark sigh in almost perfect unison with every other poor sap that thought today might just be the day no one else shows up to the DMV.

Waiting is an old man's game. I am too young to be in one place too long. I have a life to live and important other things to do. But is that true? Have you ever really waited? Waited patiently? It can be quite a relief sometimes if approached from the right angle.

According to several sources, in a lifespan of 70 years, a person waits for almost 3 of those years. Three years of waiting in lines, waiting for the restroom, waiting for the page to finally print off the copy machine, waiting for the light to turn green, waiting for the next best thing to come out of the store you have camped outside of the week before Christmas.

I recommend the following alternatives to joining the chorus of heavy sighing:

people watch (that's a given but have fun with it. what brought that guy to the point where he would want that tattoo or did he?, etc.)
try to remember the words to a song you haven't sung since grade school
relive the best and worst days of your life (maybe you'll learn a lesson or two)
let someone in front of you (blasphemy, sure, but you'd be surprised at the conversations you'll strike up)
imagine yourself as the person you are waiting to see (how many crazy people have they already had to deal with today. Not including you..)
attempt to not play with your phone (its more fun than you think)

Whatever you do, wait with pride. Know you are one of many. Be the example of "common" courtesy and friendliness. Learn something about yourself. Do not waste three years of your life taking the easy way out and simply giving in to the boredom.

Keep Your Shirt On

2012-08-09T22:32:00.001-07:00

Seriously. Keep it on.

Skinny guy running on the beach, big guy walking on the sidewalk, and man in his car stuck in traffic. None of these are good times to show off what you got going on by taking your shirts off.

I don't know why guys do this. Maybe we see other guys do it and just assume it is ok for us to try it ourselves. But you know what assuming does; it makes an ass out of you. Exactly. I know it is stupid hot outside and were you getting out of the pool or just about to go build a sandcastle somewhere, I would say good for you. But you are mowing your front lawn right now. One false move with that weed-eater and so long symmetry.

Real tan lines. Just not mine.

Don't worry we get it. You are a proud man with a six pack the ladies all swoon after. We can see you are outdoorsy and athletic. You are outside and running. Those two facts are easy to guess about you. But keep a little mystery to yourself. I display my farmers tan poolside with pride because I am a grown man that is ok with wearing my shirt out of the house. Glaring white I may be, but for a reason.

Because I wear shirts, sometimes.

Believer

2012-08-08T21:42:00.001-07:00

It is vital to have something you believe in. Many seek after great men and leaders of great movements. Many seek after gods and religious ritual to trust in and follow. And although I do believe in God and I keep my faith my focus, I was reminded this week how important it is to have someone believe in you. I have no desire to be worshiped, but I do need to be believed in from time to time.

When you feel down or when things just don't work out the way you planned for them to, you need someone to come along side you and remind you that you matter. What you did, although you failed miserably at whatever it was, was good. When you are sad and feeling alone in the world, to have someone stand by you, reach out their hand to you and remind you that you are interesting and fun. When you feel stuck and think there is no way you can possibly..., they are right there to say yes, you can.

Having someone believe in you and give you that boost once in a while is so refreshing. It revitalizes to the core. Those are the people others try to surround themselves with but your believer is yours. It won't matter how much you try to push or battle your way from them, they will always be there rooting for you. Don't take it for granted. Embrace them and let them know that someone who is followed is only as strong as the belief of their followers.

In Memory

2012-08-02T18:15:00.005-07:00

Maintaining a vigilant eye on our history is the only way we can move progressively toward a better society. Remembering our heroes and loved ones is vital to this idea.

I used to be incapable of attending memorial services of any kind. I would go to funerals, wakes, "celebrations of life", but I could never be comfortable thinking about the deceased. I hated the idea that the loss of someone close was inevitable. The whole time I would be in the room, I would simply keep my head down and my mouth shut, and the first chance I got to make a break for the door, I took it. This makes me sound cold and heartless, I know, but I just couldn't get over the fact that over there, in the corner, is the lifeless body of a person I can never learn from again.

At such an event, I was sitting along the side of the room while everyone was chatting and telling everyone else how much they will miss the person. An elderly man sat down next to me, too close for me to completely ignore and he struck up a conversation with me that I remember today. I say a conversation, but I mostly just listened. He spoke to me about the loss of his own family members, how much they meant to him and how sad he still was about loosing them. He asked me how I was feeling but before I could answer, he interrupted me. "Don't be sorry for the loss. Learn from it. How did the way they lived make you want to be a better person? What are you going to do different tomorrow, now that they are gone?" I was a little stunned and before I knew it, another one of the guests came and swept him away.

I think about that now when I hear about someone losing a loved one. I think about what I will do differently knowing about them and how the did but more importantly, how they lived. Who will take over for them at the animal shelter or Sunday school class where they volunteered? Who will hug that person's Mom or care for their children? How can we remember them with honor?

We could build stone monuments, put stupid decals on the rear windows of our cars, or make a scene at the funeral so everyone sees how sad you can be when you try. Or better yet we can learn from the loss. Love one another. Serve one another. Listen to one another. Be sincere with one another. And remember the heroes of your life. Honor them with yours.

Up In Flames

2012-06-19T16:42:00.000-07:00

Record holder for the most gold medals won by a single person at the Olympics. Rock and roll hall of fame-er. Chairman of the board for a charity that reaches out to young children without homes of their own. Champion BBQ master. Or otherwise recognized as that guy that was caught smoking pot, the drug abuser, the thief and the guy that had the heat just a little too high, a little too long that one time.

Whatever it is that we seem capable to accomplish, we are always remembered by the failures. Or at least that's how it appears. The Hollywood star or the pastor of the local church, they are always brought down by that one thing. Whatever it is and however insignificant it is in the long term, that one thing will always haunt them wherever they go. They can no longer be recognized for the good they did but instead that one black spot on their record. This is now their defining characteristic.

I have seen this with regular people as well as the super rich and popular individuals we have under the microscope. We have one time criminals from all backgrounds that can't find work because they were with someone doing something that one time. We have artists being judged by the one painting they submitted that will never paint again due to poor turnout at a gallery opening.

Do not let that one time bring you down. Although second chances are hard to come by sometimes, they are out there.Learn from your mistakes and move on. Don't give up on yourself and don't look down on others when they might leave the food on the grill too long. They can do better. And so can you.