StreetRants

My Time With COVID

2021-09-22T04:52:00.000-07:00

My Time with COVID

First, I will admit that I thumbed my nose at COVID. I have diabetes and stage III kidney disease. I was told I should be vaccinated. But I made the conscious choice to not do it. I was angry at the restrictions they were putting in place. And it was because of those restrictions that I reluctantly agreed to get the vaccine. My wife and I were planning a weekend trip to New York in October 2021. The city of New York made it impossible to do anything without a vaccine. So, I scheduled my vaccine, and received the first dose of Pfizer on August 26. That was a Thursday. The following Monday morning, I woke with a scratchy throat.

I thought little of it because I tend to deal with allergies every year around this time. But then came the fever. It was slight; below 100°. I received a positive COVID test result on September 2^nd. That was Thursday, exactly one week after my first Pfizer dose. And for the first week, I was fine. Yes, I had a slight fever and cough. But I was not feeling badly at all. Maybe the first dose had helped lessen the symptoms. And maybe, just as I had suspected, COVID wouldn’t be that big a deal for me.

On the afternoon I received the positive test result, I contacted my doctor. Because I am a higher risk, I asked if there was anything I should do. The answer was get lots of rest and drink plenty of fluids, and if I have chest pains or difficulty breathing, I should go to the ER.

Then it hit. The fever climbed, and the cough got worse. GI issues kept me close to the toilet. And when I went to bed at night, I could hear and feel the crackle down in my lungs that told me I was in danger of pneumonia. As I said, I get allergies every year. And most years, it tends to settle in the lungs, and I end up with an upper respiratory infection that requires a couple of doses of steroids and anti-biotics to clear.

My wife brought an oxygen sensor home from a friend. I put that on my finger a lot, and carefully monitored my oxygen levels. I was taking Tylenol to help with the fever and taking Nyquil at night to quell the cough and try to sleep. My daughter called in a steroid pack and some anti-biotics. I started taking them and, for the next two nights, had an experience I had never had before, and hope to never have again.

I’ve woken up sweaty plenty of times. But those two nights were so much more horrible than any other time before. The sheets above and below were completely soaked. I could have wrung cups of sweat from them. As I pulled the sheet back to get out of bed, it was peeling off my body, stuck not just here and there, but all the way up and down my body. I have NEVER sweat that much. And it wasn’t like normal sweat. There was an…odor to it. Not a sweaty, salty smell. It was almost an astringent smell. It would have been bad enough to sweat that much. But the odor truly disgusted me.

I tried to figure out what the odor reminded me of. I thought of peroxide but that didn’t seem quite right. The next day, I typed “Night sweat smells”, and got dozens of results for “Night sweat smells like vinegar.” That was it. Several of the pages I read said the vinegar smell can come from diabetic ketoacidosis or can be due to kidney disease. I had found out a year previously that I had stage III kidney disease. But this was the first time I had ever experienced sweating like this, especially with the odor.

It happened again the following night. This is honestly one of the grossest things that I have ever experienced. Mild compared to throwing up in bed, or worse. But just the unnatural smell and the amount of sweat. I weigh myself every morning. The morning after the first sweating, I weighed 167lbs. I drank some water and took my medicine. Before I ate anything, I weighed again. I was 170. It wasn’t surprising to lose three pounds of water weight, considering how much I had sweated.

A few times, my oxygen level dipped down into the upper 70’s. And a couple of those times, it took several seconds to climb back into the upper 80’s before finally making its way back into the 90’s. It was that way on Thursday, September 24^th. And as I watched it, waiting for it to climb, my heart began fluttering. My wife was at work, and I was just about to decide I might need to call 911 when I had to cough. Once the coughing began, my oxygen began climbing, and my heart settled down. I wasn’t sure if the heart flutters were due to low oxygen, or if I was stressed about the readings, and that made my heart skip a few beats. Either way, I knew it was time to get more serious.

That evening, my wife took me to the ER. As I told them all of what was going on, three of them asked me, “Why did you wait so long to come in?”. They told me it was too late to give me the antibodies. So if my doctor had sent me to the hospital (or anywhere else I could have received medication), I might have began feeling better a week previous, skipped the hospital visit, and been on my way to recovery.

At the ER, my fever was gone, and the oxygen looked good. Chest x rays showed acute pneumonia and I was prescribed antibiotics and an inhaler. The doctor warned me the inhaler was going to be rough. But I needed to get the fluid cleared from the lungs so I could begin breathing again. I was sent back home, and my wife picked up the medication the next day. And, just like they warned, the inhaler was a horrible experience. It took several days to feel ANY relief at all. But every six hours, I would take two puffs. And I would spend the next several minutes coughing. Not a normal cough-cough, let’s get rid of some fluid. But a deep, grinding cough that would completely exhaust my entire body. I had to hope it was doing some good because it was far worse than only being able to take short breaths.

After several days, I noticed I was able to breath just a little bit deeper.

As of this writing (a little over three weeks from initial symptoms), I am breathing at about 95%. I still get winded walking up and down the stairs. I climb the stairs (slowly), and I’m done for a bit. I feel like I’m 90. I feel so far from “normal”, and, even thought it’s only been a couple of weeks, It seems I’ve got so far to go to get back to being able to participate in a normal day’s activities. But I also feel I’ve come quite a way from where I was less than a week ago.

As a Christian, I’m to always be thankful. And despite what has been going on, I’ve been so very thankful. So many people I know have been in ICU, on ventilators, and have been told to get the family together. Mine has been mild compared to them. And I have found comfort in the little things through it all. I had no problem thanking God for His mercy to me. I’m here in Texas, where when I get a chill, I can curl up in my comfortable bed, and pull soft blankets up around my neck. I’m not in Nairobi where a bed might be a piece of cloth on the cold hard dirt. I’m thankful that when the GI issues flair up, I can go sit on a toilet in the air-conditioning. I’m not stooping on the ground and using leaves or dirt. I was able to go to the ER in an air-conditioned car and receive care from some of the best medical hands in the world. Yes, there is plenty that I’m thankful for.

COVID19

2020-05-20T16:30:00.000-07:00

As I began writing this, we were in week 5 of being told to isolate, and avoid going out if at all possible. Grocery stores were open, and people were still going. Few had a mask, and only a few stores were limiting how many people were allowed in at a time. Restaurants were open, but only to those who wanted their meals delivered, or would pick it up. No one was allowed to dine out. Churches were told they were not to have congregations inside their buildings. Our church, thankfully, has their services broadcast live online.

Now, we are seeing restaurants and shops open back up. More people are wearing masks when they go out. And we are caught in a debate. We were told it wasn't safe to go out unless absolutely necessary. Nothing has changed. There is no cure. There is no vaccine. But now, we are opening back up to try to prevent the entire economy from crashing.

It is a time like no other. With so much fear in the world, and uncertainty about our future, there are a couple of things that I find comfort in. We as humans have banded together. A story a couple of weeks ago talked about China sending respirators to the US. We are no longer American, Iranian, Chinese...we are in this together. Don't get me wrong. I know that won't last. As soon as this threat begins to wane, we will once again focus on our differences. Wars will continue, and the hatred will resume. But for now, we are facing a common enemy. And if we don't work together, we all suffer.

As I look around at what is happening, I find more comfort than ever. Not in humanity, in spite of how we are working together right now. I find my comfort in God alone.

I turned 54 this year. And each year brings me one step closer to the end of this journey, and into the next. And each year, I find less and less in this world that I can trust in. And I truly believe, if God came to me right now, and offered another 50 years of relatively healthy life, or to take me home today, I know what I would choose. Not because I have lost my joy. Not because there aren't a hundred things I still want to see and do. But because I think about what joys this life has to offer. And although SO many of them are wonderful, they simply can't compare. And as we struggle through the unknown post-COVID world, I find less joy here, and more there.

The GREATEST comfort I can find is in knowing that GOD is in control. You aren't. I'm not. President Trump isn't. The World Health Organization isn't.

Psalm 94:19 - "When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul."

My Day in Court

2019-12-03T14:02:00.002-08:00

Writing as a Christian, I know I have accepted Christ's blood as a payment for my sin. I have been accepted into His family, without spot or blemish. Christ has made payment for my sin with His atoning death. It is faith in Him, and what He has done for me that help me get through so many trials in this life. So what happens at the end of my life?

I'm in court, and I'm accused of all kinds of crimes. The prosecuting attorney is a being by the name of Lucifer. And he's good. He somehow knows everything I've ever done. He approaches the judge with evidence of every crime I have ever committed from the time I was born.

I know I'm guilty. My attorney knows I'm guilty. The judge and jury know I'm guilty. There is no refuting the evidence that has been shown. My mind races with excuses.

"But my mother was mean to me. I was bullied. At least I wasn't as bad as...."

It's no use. There are no excuses. I knew what I was doing. And so many times, I had that little voice, telling me not to do it. But I didn't care. In that moment, I wanted to disobey. There had been something exciting about being bad. And here I was, on trial for so many things. I don't dare look around the room. I keep my eyes on my fidgeting feet. I don't want to see the anger and hurt in everyone's eyes.

My attorney puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me everything will be okay.

How can he say that, I wonder. Everyone knows I did all of those things.

"In light of the evidence," continues Lucifer, "I submit that this man is worthy of the death penalty."

Gasps spread throughout the courtroom.

"And," he continues, "he is also worthy of incarceration in a place created for the eternal punishment for all who are guilty of such crimes."

Death.

The word hits a lot harder than I expected. I'm not really sure why. I knew that's what he was going to try for. My attorney had already told me that, and "prepared me" for the outcome.

How could I be prepared for this?

Death.

I know I deserve it.

Death.

Why did I do all those stupid things? If I had only....

My attorney looks at me and manages a small smile. But I can see the pain in his eyes.

Lucifer pauses, as he looks at me for a moment. There is a small smile there as well. And there is a gleam in his eye that cuts through my very soul.

Panic wells deep inside, and I can feel myself losing hope. The hot, prickly sensation starts around my eyes, and quickly spreads to the rest of my face.

He's got me. He knows it. It's over.

"The prosecution rests," Lucifer says, and he sits down smugly.

He's won, I think to myself. My attorney told me to trust him. He said it would all be okay. I had told him about the things I had done. He assured me he would take care of it. But the prosecution had brought up things I had not told my attorney about. Things I had never told anyone. Things I had forgotten I had even done.

I had disappointed so many people. I had hurt so many people. I had failed the one chance I had been given at this thing called life. And now I was about to hear my attorney plead my case. But what could he say? There was no excusing my behavior. I had known better. Sure, there were the little white lies that had been told. So what? And there were countless others that I had excused because "everyone did them." But some of the that were brought out into the light in the courtroom were so hideous, I just knew everyone there must hate me.

The judge looks at me for a moment. Is that contempt in his eye? Pity? Disgust? Wrath?

My attorney rises.

Here we go.

"Father," He begins, "this is my child. I have chosen him. You have chosen him. He is ours. And I have already paid the price, and taken the punishment for his sin."

"Objection, Your Honor," Lucifer interrupts, quickly standing.

The majestic Judge looks at Lucifer.

"Overruled," He says.

"But Your Honor," Lucifer tries again, "he also..."

"Silence!" The Judge says.

His voice fills the courtroom with the sound of a thousand thunders. Like sitting next to the speakers at a too-loud concert, the deep resonance vibrates every cell in my body. Suddenly, I see The Judge surrounded by an aura of light that I had never even comprehended. It fills the courtroom with such magnificence that it must be shining right through the walls, and filling the entire universe.

The Judge looks at me, and suddenly, I understand the look in His eyes. It isn't pity or wrath, only... it is. And it was every other feeling I had ever known. And they are all bundled together, and wrapped up completely in love.

I suddenly understood what I had heard, but never knew until that very moment. His contempt was for the sin, not for me. His wrath was against the disobedience I had lived. But right then, when He looked at me, I could see that love had conquered the sin. His wrath had already been expressed. It had been poured out on my Attorney over two thousand years ago. The love is so deep and so true, I can no longer stand.

I'm aware of my body going prostrate before Him. Although it seem involuntary, I wouldn't fight it even if I thought I could. As I glance over, I see the entire room has joined me. Including the prosecution table. But their reactions are different.

Deep growling sounds now leave the mouth of the sharp dressed attorney. He looks at me, and the hatred in his eyes sends a shudder down my spine. Guttural hissing sounds are thrown my way, and I would be terrified if it weren't for one thing. My Attorney stands between me and the horrid creature being forced to his knees by an unseen force. This Attorney had been so calm through everything, I often wondered if He would be tough enough to do me any good. And in this wonderful, terrible moment, He still stood so calmly, and serenely. It filled me with a peace I have never known.

And I understand.

It had been explained to me many times. That God was a judge, requiring me to be punished, and Jesus came and rescued me. God sent Jesus to pay the price. God loved me. He isn't a terrible being, hoping to crush us, and only allowing grace because of what Christ did on the cross. He is a loving, merciful God who wants us to spend our eternities in the beautiful place He has prepared for us.

Don't misunderstand...He is also a just God. And sin will not be tolerated. Without the blood of Christ, who offered Himself as a sacrifice to atone for our sin, we are lost. Separated from God for eternity.

But this trial wasn't for God to judge me. It wasn't for a jury to decide if I was guilty or innocent. Everyone knew I was guilty. It wasn't to decide on a punishment. The punishment was already decided. Eternity in Hell. Separated eternally from the loving God who had created me. But that price was paid when Christ died on the cross. He endured the wrath of God as a punishment for my sin.

This trial wasn't even for me to see how much God loved me, or show His mercy.

This trial was to once again put Satan in his place.

My eternity is secured.

Your day in the courtroom is coming.

Who is your attorney?

2019-12-03T13:50:00.001-08:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Here we are again, celebrating another Christmas. How many of us have celebrated year after year, without giving much thought to what it all really means?

Almost everyone knows the story, if only from "A Charlie Brown Christmas". But have you ever really thought about what that first night was like?

First, let's agree that December 25th was not when Christ was born. Shepherds watching their flocks by night tell us that it would not have been during the winter. The truth is, we don't know the date of Christ's birth. But we can be relatively sure it was in spring or summer, not winter.

In spite of paintings we see, there was no halo of light surrounding Jesus (or Mary). Jesus came to be born like us, to show us the way. Yes, He was God. But He was born as a human. He was born with the same weaknesses any other baby is born with. If Mary and Joseph had left Him there, He would have died of starvation and exposure.

Why did God need to be born a helpless child? How else could He truly understand all of our pain, suffering and temptations? He had to live life from the beginning to show us that He knows our needs.

But couldn't God have made a different way? Why did He have to come to die on a cross to provide salvation for us?

There were two men I used to listen to on the radio years ago. If I could remember who they are, I would give them credit for this. They painted a picture of God the Father and Jesus talking before the creation of the world. They wanted to make man to fellowship with. But They knew that man would choose to disobey, and there was only one way to redeem us from that point. God the Father said, "If we create them, we will have to redeem them." Jesus loved us so much that He chose to pay that price so that we could enjoy fellowship with Him.

Mary has almost been deified for being the mother of the Christ. And Joseph is too often just another character in the story. But what was it like for him? To love this girl so much that you are willing to stand by her as she delivers a child you know isn't yours. To raise this child as your own, facing the jeers of those who thought either this child was from another man, or that you and Mary were together before marriage. Either way, it was a tough walk for Joseph.

Yes, the angel had told Joseph about Jesus, and how He was from God. But, being a man, Joseph most likely wondered if he had imagined it. Or if God really meant what He said. By faith, Joseph chose to accept it.

This Christmas, we need to remember the story behind the gifts, trees and celebrations. We need to understand that, while Jesus was relying on Joseph and Mary to care for Him, He was their only hope for an eternity with God. Even as a newborn Baby, He was the Alpha and Omega.

Our accepting Jesus is not what makes Him LORD. He was LORD as He lay helpless in the manger. He was LORD as he played with the other kids around. He was LORD as he began his ministry with 12 men who were seldom sure what they were doing. He was LORD as He was flogged, and hung on a cross. He was LORD as He lay in the tomb.

It is up to each of us to accept Him as our LORD, and to accept His Lordship over our lives. Only then is He our LORD.

This Christmas, there is no greater gift you can accept.

Jeep JL Wrangler Rear View Mirror

2019-04-02T12:29:00.000-07:00

After having my JL Wrangler Rubicon Unlimited for almost a year, there is really only one thing that has been a nuisance to me. The rear view mirror blocks a portion of forward vision.

BEFORE:

I'm not tall, so I thought others must be experiencing the same issue. The picture above shows how the mirror sets in my way. If I were taller, it would be worse. Sure, the seat could be lowered, but I tried that as well, and it is still in the way. And I like to have my seat sitting comfortably for me. So I began searching for a way to resolve the issue.

I found a couple of posts on the Jeep JL Forum, where others had "flipped" their mirrors upside-down. Several said the mirror came off the mount, and had to be pushed back onto the clip. Most of them said it was doable, but pretty tricky. I was afraid of breaking my mirror mount, and just being out of luck.

But a couple said they were able to just rotate the mirror to be upside-down. It was a ten-second operation, two of them said. So I decided to try.

By slightly pushing up on the plastic panel above the mirror, I was able to rotate it, and gain about 2" of vision under the mirror.

AFTER:

One of the best upgrades I've done (and it was free)!

My Jeep JL Wrangler

2019-04-02T12:16:00.002-07:00

I have been in love with Jeeps since junior high school. We went to Sedona, AZ, and took a Jeep ride, and I was incredibly impressed with where it was able to go. In spite of always wanting one, the first time I actually shopped for one was when I was in my 20's. I bought a Mazda 4x4 pickup instead.

Through the years, I have owned trucks, but always looked with awe at the Jeeps around me.

When the new JL Wrangler was introduced, I was skeptical. The JK has been the leader for several years, and I was concerned Jeep had made a mistake by trying to improve it. But reading a lot of reviews, and watching a ton of videos, I saw the new JL had improved on several things that Jeep owners complained about the most.

Hood flutter - JK Wranglers suffer from a condition known as "Hood Flutter", where the hood is bouncing up and down from the amount of air in the engine bay when driving at highway speeds. The JL placed a vent behind the front fenders that allows the air to flow through, eliminating the concerning issue.
Fuel Economy - Years ago, I drove a Dodge Ram 4-door 4 x 4 with 38" mud tires. It got around 12 mpg. But I didn't care. Most Jeep owners understand they are not driving an aerodynamic vehicle, and mileage is just a slight nuisance. The JL hood is raked back at the top, and the windshield is raked 14° more than the JK. This increases the mileage by 2-3 mpg.
Rough Ride - Again, most Jeep owners understand they are driving one of the most capable off-roaders ever built. As a result, they are willing to give up a little in the comfort department. The JL is longer and wider, so the ride is much smoother. Reviews claimed it drove as well as a regular SUV.

So, for my first ever Jeep, without seeing one, or test driving it, I bought a 2018 JL Unlimited Rubicon. It was more than I had ever spend on a vehicle. But I know this will be my long-term driver, and it will hopefully last longer than any other I've driven. Mine has the cold-weather group (which includes heated steering wheel and seats), and LED lighting. It did not have the steel bumper, which is winch ready. But at $995, I knew I could buy an after-market bumper, AND the winch for less.

One drawback is the lack of parts available for the new JL. It is getting better, no doubt. When I first bought my JL, there were no aftermarket bumpers to be had. Now, there are several options, running from just under $300 to over $1000.

I have had my JL for almost a year now, and love it every time I drive it. It will go far more places, and do far much more off-road, than I will ever ask of it. It is one of only two vehicles I've owned, where I didn't drive around, see other vehicles, and think, "I wish...".

Chase, and the Clan Gordon Pipe Band

2018-07-22T15:30:00.001-07:00

Let me start by saying I'm only 1/4 Scottish. My mom was 1/2, and tried to instill a sense of pride. I was impressed early on, but lost connection as a teenager. There was always something about bagpipe music that stirred something inside, but I never let it go very deep. I'm guessing that was due to issues with mom, but those are my issues.

A year or so ago, Chase made an off-the-cuff comment about learning to play the bagpipes. He taught himself to play guitar, bass, and piano. So, while I dismissed the comment, I knew he could if he decided to.

One day he sent me a picture of a set of pipes he had purchased. It seemed to be a lot of money, but he was determined. Two months later, he was with the Clan Gordon Pipe Band out of Tacoma, WA. He texted a couple of weeks ago that their quartet, of which he was a part, won first place. While I still find it amazing, it doesn't really surprise me.

When he was learning bass, I walked by his room one afternoon, and he was listening to YYZ by Rush.

"I'll never get this," he said.

It was two nights later, he was playing along with the music, and keeping stride note for note. I wonder if Geddy Lee was that way.

This weekend, watching Chase play, I found feelings of pride awakened. Not just that my son had become an incredible bagpipe player in such a short time. It was a deeper feeling. I found myself tearing up at the notes, and the thoughts that accompanied them.

Bagpipes get a lot of teasing. The style and sound is certainly not for everyone. Maybe if I had not been exposed to it from an early age, I would hate the sound. And maybe it is something that only those who share the heritage can appreciate. But there is something solemnly beautiful about the melodies from a lone bagpipe. And when an entire band plays, it is so powerful. Put that together with the drums, the flair, and the tradition, and it can stir your very soul.

Whether or not it means anything to me; or whether or not it should, or shouldn't, mean anything to Chase; my mother would have been incredibly proud. And as I shot the video, and took the pictures, I struggled to keep the tears at bay. During the breaks, I wandered through a shop or two. I purchased a little booklet about the Mackay clan. Once again, I'm interested in learning about that part of my heritage. I didn't choose my lineage. And for almost 40 years, I've tried not to care about it. But suddenly, I find myself dealing with feelings of pride, and, possibly, a touch of lost years. Maybe it's being over 50 now. Maybe I'm just getting sentimental in my older years.

Or maybe it is the heritage, once again being awakened.

Love Story

2017-12-20T13:11:00.001-08:00

There is an old legend about a man who was very much in love with a woman. He told her of his love, and asked her feelings about him. She told him that she liked him, but she felt that his love was not really true. He promised her his undying love and devotion, and told her that he would do whatever it would take to show her his love.

"I would move the mountains for you,” he told her one day.

"If you really love me," she said, pointing to the largest mountain around, ''you will move that mountain to the other side of the road."

The man looked at the mountain and looked again at his love. He wasn't sure she was serious until she turned without another word and walked away. He decided to show her of his love, and went to the mountain immediately to get started. He began to move the rocks that had fallen to the mountain's base. He would pick up a large rock, and carry it across the road, laying it to rest at the future sight of her mountain. Several of the rocks were far too big to pick up, and he knew he should go home to get a sledgehammer to break them into smaller rocks that he could carry.

He returned to the mountain a few hours later with his sledgehammer and wheelbarrow and began to break up the larger rocks. He worked all through the night without even sitting down. As he took his first break, he looked toward the mountain's new home, and could not even tell he had done any work. After a short rest, he began to work even harder. After all, if he was to complete this work, he would have to give it everything he had. He worked until late in the evening before exhaustion forced him to sit down again. As he looked across the road toward the mountain's new home, he could barely see anything had changed.

He decided that he would work from the time the sun came up until the time the sun went down every day until he had moved the entire mountain. Each day, he would leave his house an hour before sunrise to go to work. He would work non-stop until it was too dark to see in the evening. Within a couple of weeks, he left his house for good, and slept next to the mountain because he was too exhausted to walk back home. After a month of working, he began to see a small hill where the mountain was being reassembled. The excitement made him work even harder.

"Next time she walks this way," he thought, "she will see what I am doing, and she will

not doubt my love."

Every day, he would work so hard. And each day, he would hope she would walk by to see what he had done. Each time he would see someone coming ever the horizon, his heart was gladdened. Each time it turned out to be someone else, however, and his disappointment soon began to sting. Still he worked as hard as his body would let him. From first daylight to after dark, he would carry rocks and dirt across the road to add it to the mound he had made.

Soon after the young man had made the promise to the young lady, she had forgotten his words. She had not really been interested in him at all, and she thought her words to him had told him of her feelings. She went on with her life, and soon was being seen in town with another young man who she did like. As she would spend her days in the house, helping her mother with the chores, the young man was moving the mountain for her. As the days went on, though his body grew more and more tired, his love for her only grew deeper. The harder he worked, the more he loved her. The more he loved her, the harder he worked.

As the years went by, her mountain was being moved piece by piece. The man worked every day, all year long, in the hot summer, and the cold winter. Being outside all the time, his young body aged, and his skin grew hard and tough. Still, he labored every day, always giving it all he had. Each night, when it was too dark to see, he would collapse exhausted, and not wake until the next morning.

Word got around that there was a man moving a mountain, and people became interested.

Some people knew that it was being moved because of love. Others simply thought this man must be crazy. He was arrested twice for the work he was doing. After all, the mountain belonged to everyone. What right did he have to move it? He would spend some time in jail, hoping his love would come to see him. Though he was in jail a couple of weeks, his love never came.

When he got out of jail, he went right back to the mountain to continue his work. People lost interest in the man, and soon no one paid attention anymore. As more years passed, the strain began to take its toll. He became sick, and could not get better. But no matter how bad he felt, he would work from before sunup to after sundown, every day.

Each night, he would collapse. Each morning, he would hope that his love would come see him that day. He knew however, that he would work until he died to prove his love.

The man collapsed one night, forty years after he started the work for his love. He never woke up. Next to the man was a note that simply read "For my love".

By now, his love had married, and moved to another town. For his love, he had moved the entire mountain. He was laid to rest next to his completed work.

Several months after his death, the lady and her husband came back to visit the town. As they reached the edge of town, she noticed the mountain on the other side of the road. It was only then that she remembered the promise of the young man, made so many years before. As she approached the base of the mountain, she read the board that marked the man's tomb. Simple like the note he had left, it read "It was for his love". Legend has it, the lady died later that night of a broken heart.

The lady was buried in a small town several miles away. Even after his life, the man was left alone. The name of the man has long been forgotten, as has the name of the lady. But the legend of this mountain continues to be told from generation to generation. There are still some people alive today that swear they have seen pictures from when the mountain was on the other side of the road. Though its name is not recorded on maps, the locals know it as lonely mountain. Strange sounds can be heard there just after sunset every night. They say one of the sounds is the man groaning as he collapses after a long day. Another sound is the sound of his heart breaking as he collapsed for the last time, finally realizing that his love would never come.

Sweet Sadie

2017-04-09T16:18:00.001-07:00

Back in the Summer of 2007, my wife and I stopped by Petco after lunch to pet the puppies. Fireplug rescue was there, and they were having adoptions. We had no intention of getting one, but who can resist the sweet faces?

There, in a crate, was the sweet face of Birdie. Something about the white eyelids caught my heart. I opened the crate door to just pet her a little. She stepped out, and put her front paws on my shoulders as if to hug me and say, "You've finally come to rescue me."

We both knew instantly that she was ours. We renamed her Sadie, and began a new life with her.

We had a few trials along the way (she was storm-phobic). You can read more about that here: Our Dogs

She ran away more than a few times when we lived in Grapevine. We usually found her at the nearby park, happily standing against the base of a large oak, after treeing a squirrel. Once, when Dawn was walking her, she got out of her collar, and ran into a horse pasture, where she happily rolled around in.....well, you know. After several years (about the time we decided if she ran away, we would just wait to see if she came home again), she stopped trying to get away.

We have watched through the years as her health has had issues with fatty tumors. She had one the size of a softball on her side that we had the vet remove. Soon afterward, she began growing them everywhere. They never seemed to bother her until recently, when her throat would make her cough and gag. Years ago, that was once every five or six months, usually after eating something from the yard. In the last year, she has started doing it three or four times a day.

Her legs have weakened as well, and she is finding it harder to get up and down the stairs. Since all the bedrooms are on the second floor, and she is not one to just stay downstairs alone, I knew it would eventually become an issue. Yesterday morning, her left front leg once again acted as if it had a mind of its own. She didn't tumble, although how she avoided it is a mystery to me.

Over the past year, the eyes that were once so full of life have dimmed. She can't see much, and her left eye is full of cloudy grey. She can't hear much either (unless it is thundering). So much of her time is spent looking around, wondering where her people are, even if we are just a few feet away.

And there are the accidents in the house. It's not like she needs to go urgently; but more like she just really has no idea what is going on. Cleanup has become a daily event.

So, it is with a heavy heart that we will take her to the vet tomorrow to say our last goodbyes.

This afternoon was hers, with a trip to the park for a little picnic, and a half of a bacon cheeseburger from Sonic. We walked around and let her sniff all she wanted instead of pulling her along. We took some pictures with her. Not so we will remember her. A dog like her will live with us forever.

After the thousands of dollars of damage she caused in her storm-fueled panics, and the countless sleepless nights trying to console her during a storm, it is time for her to find her rest. To go to her home with no more storms, and no more pain. A place for her to run free; like the happy, playful dog she was when we got her.

Tonight, I will make my bed in the floor with her to give her (and me) a few more hours together. And tomorrow, we will accompany her on her last journey here. Knowing that dogs have only a few years here, and that this is just "the way it is" doesn't provide comfort. But if I live to be a hundred, I will always remember Birdie, who became our Sadie. And her unique personality will be a part of our lives forever.

We Have The RIGHT To Defend Ourselves

2017-01-03T18:01:00.001-08:00

If you are a wildebeest in Africa, you face a threat daily. Wander from the herd, and you are on the menu. Get weak, ill or old, and you may find yourself facing off against a lion, or two...or three.

Thankfully, you are not a wildebeest. If you were, you wouldn't be reading this. I don't know of any Saharan animals who can afford a computer or can get reliable internet service. Plus, typing with hooves tends to lead to all kinds of websites that could get one in trouble.

But you may still find yourself facing an imminent threat at some point in your life.

A lion will seldom attack a herd of animals. It will look for the smaller, slower ones to attack. A pride will surround a herd, and run them around until they can separate one. The obvious idea here is to travel in a pack. (I won't call it a herd for fear of upsetting the one or two people who may actually be reading this).

But since it is hard to always travel with several other people, what else can you do?

Don't be the slowest or weakest of the herd. Hit the gym; do some cardio; learn self-defense...

Just my opinion here, and I'm sure I'll offend at least one of the few people who may be reading this, but self-defense can be learned in a lot of different ways. "Martial Arts" are what most people think of when they hear "self-defense". And while Karate and Tae Kwon Do can teach a lot of great things, they may not be what you need to truly defend yourself. Yes, I know...I've seen the videos of people in street fights being knocked out by a spinning back-kick too. But how long does it take to get proficient enough to do that? And what happens if the criminal isn't willing to wait for you to reach that point before attacking?

To me, it is much more important to learn real-life skills that you can use to defend yourself right from the beginning. Learning dozens of katas before being able to actually use it isn't what I would want to learn.

After spending a few years in Krav Maga, I truly feel it is one of the best defense systems out there. Yes, there are others that are also great. Learning a skill the first week that may help save your life is much more worth it to me. Krav Maga can be used whether you are 10 or 80. It is designed to be used by men or women, and regardless of your size or strength level. And if you are in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, you can learn from a great man who truly wants to teach you in a way you can learn it. Steve Hickman at Legacy Krav Maga.

But let's assume you are not able to get yourself into a class. Maybe you are at an age where you feel unable (or unwilling) to get into shape. You have become one of the wildebeests who may get separated from the herd. What do you do?

You have the right to defend yourself, regardless of your age, shape or ability.

So let's look at a few alternatives to physical defenses...

Stun guns were all the rage when they first came to the market. There are a couple of problems, however. The most obvious to me is that you have to be right next to the assailant. Since most attackers aren't going to attack someone larger than themselves, this puts the stun gun user at an immediate disadvantage. If you are close enough to get the stun gun against him, he is already close enough to grab you, punch you, etc. And if they assailant is wearing a coat, or thick clothing, it might not even do any good anyway. And since these work on batteries, you have to always insure the batteries are charged and ready to use.

And there are tasers, much like the police use. These have the advantage of being able to hit an attacker from several feet away. And, depending on whom you ask, they can be much more effective than a stun gun. But you still have to get the probes through whatever clothing they may be wearing.

And we can go back to the battery argument as well.

Pepper spray: no batteries required.

Pepper spray has been touted as an effective, non-lethal form of protection. Sprayed into the face of an attacker, it can immobilize and temporarily blind the attacker, allowing the victim to escape.

But if it is a windy day, you stand the risk of inhaling the vapors yourself, or at least missing the attacker. And I've seen videos of police pepper spraying someone, and having it NOT seem to affect the person at all.

And there is always a knife. Not like the one shown, since in most states, it is illegal to carry one like this. But you can certainly carry a decent sized knife (in the state of Texas, you can carry up to a 5 1/2" blade.

But a knife has the disadvantage of a stun gun. You must be in a hand-to-hand situation for it to do any good. It will not immobilize the attacker, and so must be used until the threat ceases. And, it's a messy and disturbing choice.

Which leads us to my personal choice: a handgun.

So let the arguments begin!

Let's get the discussion started with gun control. For my liberal friends (yes I have them), I want to go back to the lion and wildebeest for a moment. You feel I should not be allowed to own (or carry) a firearm. If the lion attacks, the wildebeest has the right to defend itself. And it will use its horns to do so. The argument that guns make the world unsafe is to tell the wildebeest that he has to give up his horns.

If we remove the horns from the wildebeest, we do not disarm the lion. And rest assured, the lion will not decide he should NOT attack the wildebeest because it would not be fair. The only thing that accomplishes is make sure the prey has no way to defend itself.

Disarming me (or any other American with the right to own and/or carry), will not disarm the criminal. And it will certainly NOT persuade the criminal to NOT attack. All it does is make sure I cannot defend myself when attacked.

If I am a criminal, and I want to kill as many people as possible, I will not choose a gun store. I will not walk into a police station. I am going to a school, or a mall where a 30.06 sign is posted. I will find a place where guns are prohibited. I do not want to take a chance that someone there will shoot me before I have the opportunity to inflict as much damage as possible.

And let me explain the main purpose behind this blog:

As Steve Hickman told us during one of our Krav Maga classes:

"You have a responsibility to return to your family every day."

It is my responsibility to make sure that happens. If I feel confident enough in my 5'7", 190 lb. build, then that's all I need. (I certainly do not feel that confident in my size). I have decent strength for a 50-year-old. But that is not enough. I'm much more confident with what Krav Maga has taught me. But against two or three (or more), would that be enough? What if they assailants have a knife, or gun?

Bruce Lee was arguably the greatest martial artist ever. But even his amazing abilities would not have protected him against a bullet.

It has been quoted many times: "The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun."

True.

Many of the proponents of gun control are protected by bodyguards who are carrying guns. Why? If guns are the issue, they are part of the problem, not the solution. And we have police to call when we are attacked. Why? Because they have guns, and can stop the bad guys with guns.

So make your choice.

Whatever your choice is, know that I will help defend you to the best of my ability. With my 5'7", 190 lb build, my strength, such as it is, my Krav Maga skills, and, most likely, my gun. Because that is my right.

And while I never want to offend anyone, if you choose to be offended, then that is your right.

I pray I never need to prove my willingness to defend either of us.

Merry Christmas

2016-12-25T11:25:00.004-08:00

Merry Christmas!

December 25, 2016.

And this blog is dedicated specifically to those who serve to keep us safe all year long.

To the Armed Forces of these United States:

For spending months at a time away from family and friends to serve wherever you are sent. For standing in the gap, in harm's way, to insure we sleep safely at home. While we open presents with family who is here, know that you are in our thoughts and prayers today.

We are thankful for your service, and pray for your safe keeping.

And, especially for my son, who is somewhere underwater, I'm incredibly proud and honored to have you. I love you very much, and miss you more this Christmas than I have in years past. I'm grateful for your service, and can't wait to see you when you get back.

For Police Officers:

You put on your uniforms at the beginning of your shift, and patrol the streets, keeping us safe. You never know, as you stop each car for a simple brake light out, what you might be facing. For the angry protesters who appear to wish you harm, and those who angrily complain about a ticket they got for speeding; know that there are countless more of us who are grateful to you for your service.

To the firefighters:

You voluntarily run into a burning building, or reach into a burning car, to save us from harm. To know you are there whenever we need you is a great comfort. You spend each day training to insure you can to rescue us if the need arises. Know that we are grateful for your service, and we remember you this day as well.

To those who protect and serve, wherever you are; know that you are in our thoughts and prayers this day, and we wish you all a merry, and SAFE, Christmas.

Lancelot and the Christmas Meal

2016-12-12T14:41:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows that Sir Lancelot was one of the bravest knights in Camelot. Most people, however, do not know that he was an extraordinary cook.

Arthur had the best cook in the land obviously, but allowed Lancelot to cook on certain occasions.

This angered the cook, who felt his position was challenged. In a fit of anger one day, he challenged the knight to see who could cook the best meal for King Arthur and his court. Word spread to the king, who decided to make it a huge contest.

They settled on Christmas evening, when the cook and knight would each prepare their finest meal, and King Arthur would decide which one did the best job.

After several people told the cook that he was a fool for making such a challenge, the cook began to doubt himself. After all, what if Lancelot actually prepared a better meal? What would become of him?

So he bribed one of Lancelot’s squires to get the exact recipe that Lancelot was making, and give it to him. If he prepared the meal exactly the way Lancelot did, the king could not pick the knight over the cook. The squire accepted the deal, but later realized he could not betray the brave knight that way, and confessed the deal to Sir Lancelot.

The wise knight convinced the squire that he should not tell anyone that he had betrayed the trust of the cook. He set about to thwart the cook’s dastardly plan.

He didn’t want to change the recipe, since duck breast with a rich Hollandaise sauce was the King’s very favorite meal. He decided instead to present it in a way the cook could not.

The cook would certainly serve the meal on the very best silver platter in the palace. But the cook didn’t get out of the kitchen much, and never left the castle. He was unaware that a silversmith in Ludlow had discovered that by melting different ores together, he had come up with a coating that was even shinier than silver. The silversmith was Hawthorne Krome, and he titled his new discovery “Krome”.

Christmas evening came, and the kitchen was a rush of activity. The cook and knight each hurried themselves with preparations. The cook slyly knew that he was preparing the exact same dish as Lancelot, and felt sure he had outdone himself. At the very least, his dish would be every bit as good as the knight’s.

Both meals were presented, and Arthur delighted in them both. When the time came to announce the winner, the entire hall fell silent. Cheers went up when it was declared that Lancelot’s meal had been chosen to be the better of the two.

The chef loudly protested, saying he had prepared the exact same meal, the exact same way. Arthur pondered for a moment, and looked at the disheartened chef.

“It was his presentation,” he finally said. “Yes, yours was delicious as well, but his platter was much shinier and nicer looking than yours.”

Which just goes to show:

There’s no plate like chrome for the Hollandaise.

A New Low

2016-11-07T10:57:00.000-08:00

Have we really sunken so low?

In less than 48 hours, we will know whether we have elected a crass, rude, jerk, who has so much money he has lost touch with reality; or a lying, cheating socialist.

Okay…now that I’ve offended everyone, let me continue to lament.

Watching television the other night, there was a story about how all other countries are watching our elections. I for one was rather embarrassed. We must look like a joke to the rest of the world.

How is it in 2016, we don’t have more qualified people to vote for? In a nation of 319 million people, we can’t find a handful of candidates who have the moral and ethical fiber we need?

For the past several elections, it has come down to me voting for the candidate I dislike the least. It’s no longer a matter of who I think it best for our country; it is who is NOT the worst?

I came up with some reasons why we are lacking decent qualified people:

If you don’t have enough money, there is no need to even consider running. That rules out the vast majority of everyone.
If you don’t want your family subjected to countless hours of mud-slinging hatred, you have no desire to run.
If you are concerned with offending people, you likely aren’t even elected to office anywhere, and the chances of even getting on a ballot are slim and none.
Unfortunately, if you are a decent, honest person, who believes in a moral right and wrong, and tries to live a principled lifestyle, the vocal minority will raise enough money to insure you never get anywhere.

Let me just step up on my soap box for a moment and get something off my chest…

If you don’t vote in the election, I don’t want to hear you complaining about anything. If you vote, and your candidate loses, you have the right to be unhappy. You have the right to complain. These are guaranteed by the first amendment. But if you don’t vote, I don’t want to hear it.

In 2012, it is reported that 57.5% of eligible voters actually voted. For whatever reason, 42.5% decided it was not worth their time. Yes, I know; there are reasons some people are unable to vote. But that number is nowhere near 42%. And I understand some of it at least. If there isn’t anyone worth voting for, what’s the point? The point is we have a right and a responsibility to do so. Countless men and women have died to protect that right. So if you don’t vote; shut up.

I feel a little better. What? I offended someone else? That’s okay. I’m offended by watching and listening to the crud being broadcast about the elections and the candidates. I don’t want either one of them to win. I had the option to vote for someone else, of course. But to vote for a third party was to almost insure my vote went for the candidate I dislike the most.

And this is where, as a Christian, I run into part of my calling where it is really hard. I’m told that no matter who wins, I am to support them, pray for them, and respect them.

Ouch.

I have the right and responsibility to vote my conscience (though no candidates seem to care what my conscience says anymore). And I did. But if the worst one wins, I don’t get to hate, or even disrespect them. I don’t have the right to wish them harm or hope for some kind of tragic circumstance to happen to them.

When our last president won his first election, I comforted myself by saying that I respect the office, even if I don’t respect the person. But I can’t justify that anymore, either.

It isn’t as if God will sit on His throne, and throw back His head, saying, “I can’t believe won.”

He knew before He ever formed the Earth who was going to win the elections in 2016. And whether we understand it or not, it is all within His plan. And I confess, I seldom understand it. But I don’t have to. And neither do you.

If you are a Christian, I trust you voted. It doesn’t matter whom you voted for. Now I believe we will stand accountable for our actions, including voting. But you owe me no explanation. You merely need to be able to justify it to Him on the day we face Him. And I trust you have been praying for our country.

Earnestly.

Are we standing in the gap between a country that has fallen so far from where it began, and the Holy God who has blessed us so abundantly? Or have we become like Jonah; waiting expectantly for God to destroy the evil? God has called us to pray for our leaders. We are to honor and respect authority.

Romans 13 tells us we are to be subject to governing authorities. It tells us that all authority is instituted by God, and if we resist that authority, we are resisting what God has appointed.

I will be disappointed by whichever candidate wins. One a little less than the other. But no matter what the outcome of the election, one of them will be my new President. I will honor them. I will respect them. And I will lift them up in prayer.

To do anything else, is to go against what my Holy God has commanded me to do.

Not Quite What I Remember

2016-10-27T14:57:00.000-07:00

So let me start with a confession.

I am just a big kid.

When I was a kid, my favorite cereal in the world was Franken Berry. (For those unaware, it is a strawberry flavored cereal with marshmallows). It was sad that it only came out during the Halloween season.

For the past several years, I have seen it in stores during October, and often thought about buying some to revive old taste buds.

This year, I finally broke. I bought some to have for dessert at night. And the other night, I excitedly got a bowl, and sat down to enjoy my special treat.

It was not quite what I remember. In fact, it was nothing like I remember. Well, okay...it was still strawberry flavor.

The marshmallows were okay. But the cereal itself was something on the South end of disappointing. I suppose it was better than dog food might be (although, when I was a kid, I kind of liked a product called "Doggy Donuts). But I digress.

I found myself just working to finish the bowl.

How sad.

Something I remember as being so wonderful just wasn't all that good. Was it that I had lower standards back then? Did they change the formula over the years? Or have foods become so much sweeter through the years that what was sweet back then is like cardboard now?

I hear people talking about how awesome it was when they were in high school. Bruce Springsteen sings about "Glory Days". I think about what it would be like to go back, knowing what I know now. Yes, there are things I would change. I'm over 50 now, but I wouldn't go back to my teenage years for anything.

How much time is lost, longing for what was? How can we enjoy life if we are too busy missing what we no longer have?

When I was a kid, I didn't have a truck payment. I lived at home, rent free. I didn't have electric bills, or water bills. I didn't have to go to work every single day. I got to sleep in on the weekends until noon if I wanted to. Friday and Saturday nights were spent at the arcade, and riding go karts, and whatever else we felt like doing.

Now, I get up at 4 to 6 AM, and work ten to twelve hours a day. Friday and Saturday nights are spent at home, looking through work for the next day. Maybe taking the evening off, and watching TV. I can't not work because I have a huge house payment, a truck payment, electric bills, water bills, insurance bills, cable bills, etc. I have a wife, a mother-in-law, and three dogs living in the house. There is seldom time to just sit and do nothing.

But in the last few years, God has shown me how to be thankful for things I always saw as negatives.

I'm thankful for a huge house payment because that means I have a nice home to come home to every evening. Some people live in a cardboard box (or worse).

I'm thankful for a huge electric bill because it means I have heat and AC, and lights. Some people freeze in winter, and swelter in summer because they don't have electricity.

I'm thankful to "have to" get up early every morning because it means I have a job to go to. I have spent months looking through ads, trying to make ends meet on unemployment. And I have the physical ability to go to work every day. How many people are suffering from a disease, and would love nothing more than to be able to work?

I choose to be thankful for what I have now. And I choose to not wish I could have what I thought was so good.

Wherever you are, and whatever is going on in your life now, choose to be thankful. Thankful for what you have. (If you are reading this, you have internet and access to a computer). And you have eyes that can see, a brain that can comprehend, and the ability to read.

It could be so much worse.

Now I just have to figure out what to do with an almost full box of Franken Berry.

What Kind of God Is This?

2016-10-27T13:49:00.000-07:00

I'll answer the question in three words:

A personal one.

Now, if you want more explanation, read on.

I want you to read this post slowly. I know I sometimes rant, and chase rabbits, so I'll try to stick with the main points for this one. I want you to truly comprehend some of the truths I have been shown through the years. There have been many times when I got quiet, and truly observed things, and felt the wondrous majesty of this Holy, Awesome God.

God, who created everything that was ever created.

God, who spoke the universe into existence. A universe that continues to expand still.

Yet this God isn't sitting out in the eternal heavens, untouchable or unapproachable.

Genesis 1 tells us that when He formed the Earth, it was void and without form. He could have left it the way it was. You and I would never have known the difference. It could all be flat, and plain and black and white. But He is a personal God.

He loved you and I before He ever formed the Earth. He knew I loved mountains. I especially love huge, rock mountains. Sure, the Smokey Mountains are pretty. The tallest peak is 6,643 foot Clingmans Dome. I prefer the Western part of the country. The mountains are not covered in trees, and are more than twice that tall. My wife prefers the beach. Some people's idea of beauty is a meadow covered in flowers.

God is a personal God, and He created the world where we could all find the beauty we enjoy. He wants us to be happy in His creation.

If I wore an orange shirt with purple pants, blue shoes, yellow socks, red belt and a pink hat, I would look ridiculous. Who would mix those colors? Look at the sunrise and sunset, and the magnificent colors displayed. Yes, I understand that there is dust, water vapor, etc. that create the different hues. But, again, it could have all been black and white, and we never would have known what we are missing.

And this same God, who cares so much about us that He created such a glorious world, cares no less for our feelings and emotions.

And He provided a way for us to be accepted into His family. Why?

Because He's a personal God. And He loves you.

Teaching an Old Dog a New Trick

2016-09-30T12:57:00.000-07:00

Where did the saying, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks," come from?

I did some looking, and found the phrase is incredibly old. In fact, one source claimed that in the 1500's, it was known as an old saying. I started to dig deeper, and suddenly realized I didn't care.

But after spending 23 years in the technical field, telecommunications, computers and networking, I found myself out of work. It was pretty upsetting at first. I knew God was going to take care of me; that was not a concern. But I had once again found myself at a crossroads. And it was again time to decide what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I've known a handful of people who "have always known" what they wanted to be. Some who wanted to be a nurse, or a lawyer grew up to become just that. But it seems like the majority of those I know are working in a field that chose them, not the other way around. I never chose computers; they chose me.

I had worked as a busboy, waiter, cashier, assembly line worker, inspector, driver, etc. I had worked everything from fast food to a defense contractor. When my holiday stint as a driver for UPS ended, a friend from church asked if I knew anything about phones.

"Absolutely," I replied. "I can make calls, answer calls, pick up the phone, hang up the phone, use a phone book...I could go on..."

He owned a telecommunications company, and hired me. After almost five years, I left to join another company in a help desk position, working on computers and the network. During times of unemployment through the years, I wondered if I wanted to get back into the computer field. But I was seldom out of work for long. Technology is always advancing, and there is always a need.

When I lost my job at the age of 49, I started looking into another computer job, mainly with the titles of Network Administrator, or Applications Administrator. After all, that's what I had been doing for the last 20 years. It only stood to reason that I was most suited for a job doing the same thing. And in spite of the fact that I didn't really choose that line of work, it had been a decent living for me.

After almost four months of unemployment, and searching for a job full-time, a friend at church (is there a pattern here?), told me about a company hiring a couple of people in his school district. He didn't know anything about the company or the jobs they were hiring for, but he gave me the name of the company. On a whim, I looked them up, saw they were hiring for the position of Energy Specialist.

"I wonder what that even means," I wondered.

Looking through information on the company website, it sounded interesting, but nothing like anything I had ever done. I had no experience at all.

"I can't do that," the familiar thought came. "But I might as well submit an application anyway."

That was in February, 2016. I went for an information session, and learned more about the company, what they did, and what they were looking for. It was interesting. But I was sitting with 30 other people, and all of them looked to me like better candidates. When they called me for a second session, and told me it was an actual interview, I was a little surprised.

I went to the interview, and was asked a couple of questions, and then they were done. It felt like little more than a formality. Like they were giving interviews to everyone just to be polite. They thanked me for my time, and I went back home, knowing that was the last I would hear from them unless they actually sent an email or letter, telling me they had hired someone else.

A couple of weeks later, I received a call with a job offer. It was quite a bit less than I had been making, but more than I was expecting. But I still had no idea what the job would entail.

They had told me it would be a lot of hours in the beginning. My first week was spent in training. And for the first five or six weeks of working in the district, I averaged 70-80 hours. Six months in, and it has settled to between 50 and 60 hours a week.

So what is it I do? Thank you for asking. I know you are incredibly interested in everything I do. (that was sarcasm for those of you who don't know me well).

I am an Energy Specialist in a local school district. My company places Energy Specialists in school districts to help them save money on their energy costs. Instead of spending money on utilities, we free up that money so it can be put back into the education system. I won't bore everyone (all 5 or 10 people who actually read this) with all of the details. There is a lot to what I do every day. Years ago, someone made a comment about working with kids.

"It's like trying to hold 20 ping pong balls under water all at once."

I now understand that saying. Between getting bills entered, checking the data, scheduling events, verifying building usage for those events, working with consultants when they come in to the office, working with the staff at all nineteen of my campuses, tracking utility usage, working with the AC guys to get issues resolved, and working on comfort issues at each campus, I frequently find myself looking at the clock, and wondering where the day went. Then I look at the list of things left to do, and it doesn't look any shorter. And then there are the 20-25 audits I have to do each week on the buildings. Most of those have to be done when the buildings are unoccupied. So, during the school year, I sometimes get up and going at 5 AM to do a couple before people get there. I work some in the evenings after they have gone. And my Saturdays and Sundays are spent walking campuses.

We were having dinner with my brother and sister-in-law a few months ago, and he asked my wife what she thought of the long hours I was working.

"I think it's great," she replied.

I thought about being hurt by that comment, but she explained that it had been years since I had come home in a really good mood. And I had already told them that in spite of working 70-80 hours, I had more energy than I had felt in a long time. Yes, I'm tired, and I haven't had a real day off except for a weekend we went to see my son in Seattle back in July. But it has been great. The work feels much more fulfilling, though I'm not really sure why.

I think I'm much better suited to this job (or it is better suited to me). And in spite of the massive amounts of learning (old dog new trick) that is involved, I have been incredibly impressed with the support they provide. They hire the best of the best for their consultants. So many of them retired from careers in HVAC or engineering, and were then hired by our company. We have the best people in the industry at our fingertips.

They all have said, "If you have any questions, give me a call."

Unlike others, who say they are there to help, and then are unavailable any time you need them, I have never had trouble getting in touch with any of them. And they are always happy and willing to help. So much of what I'm doing involves working on systems I've never known anything about before. But the best and brightest are always a phone call or email away. They may be on a plane at the time, but they always respond as soon as they can. And they patiently take the time to help.

So I'm learning you can teach an old dog new tricks. If you are willing to devote the time and effort necessary to actually teach.

Thank you, Mark for telling me about this job.

Thank you to my company, for giving me a chance.

Thank you to my wife, for understanding the long, often strange hours.

And thank you, LORD, for orchestrating everything necessary to lead me here.

Are You Compatible?

2016-09-30T12:56:00.002-07:00

I have to admit; I hate the ads.

You know the ones.

"I can get a date myself," the girl exclaims.

"How's that working for you?"

She remembers her bad dates, and decides she needs to sign up.

They have questions you fill out and it tells you who you are compatible with. I guess that makes sense, but I think they are missing the bigger picture. And I think the vast majority of people have fallen right in line behind them, and accepted what they say.

If I were to think of my wife and I, I'm not sure we would be all that compatible if we were to take a test. I love shooting, four-wheeling, watching football and UFC. She wants shopping, wine and HGTV. I would love to own a motorcycle to cruise around on. She thinks that's the worse idea ever. My idea of the best vacation spots are the Western desert states. I love Arizona and Utah. Her first choice would be a week sitting on a beach somewhere.

But what I've learned about compatibility doesn't match E-Harmony's philosophy, and maybe not even common sense. My wife and I are compatible because we choose to be. She still doesn't want me to get a motorcycle, and I still can't picture her enjoying shooting. But we find things we enjoy doing together. Yes, there are times I watch football downstairs, while she and her mother watch HGTV upstairs. Or I may go to the range while they go get their nails done. But the majority of the time, we watch shows together that we both enjoy. She loves shopping. Like most men, I don't shop; I hunt. I know what I'm looking for, and I go get it. Done. (Unless it's a Cabela's or Bass Pro). But I spend some afternoons at the mall with her, shopping. I make fun of some of the clothes I see, or act silly about things. And I do it because I'm having fun. I'm with my beautiful wife, walking around a mall. And she enjoys it. So I have learned to enjoy it also.

I'm not a big Steely Dan fan. But she got tickets to a concert, and I had a great time. The music was pretty good. The fact that we were in a suite made it much more fun. But the best part was just spending time with her, doing something she really wanted to do. I'm not a bed and breakfast kind of guy. I'm much more comfortable in a Holiday Inn than a Betty-Bird's Bungalow. But I have surprised her with a couple of weekend trips out of town. Once was to a bed and breakfast in Jefferson, TX. (Also a place I likely would not have chosen to go). But I had a wonderful weekend. We also stayed at Biscuit Hill B&B. Again, not what I would choose, but I had a great time with her. She has surprised me with tickets to a concert for Andrea Bocelli, whom I absolutely love. Years ago, she suggested we go to Putt Putt and go kart riding. Absolutely not her style, but it was fun. I assume she enjoyed it. I know I did.

"Well, why should I spend time doing things I would not normally choose to do, if I can answer questions, and find someone who already loves doing what I love doing?"

When I was fifteen, I worked in a steakhouse. Every night for break, several of the workers would sit together and have dinner. Most of us would have baked potatoes (because they were free). I had mine with butter and bacon bits. Everyone else topped theirs with butter and sour cream. I hated sour cream. At least I thought I did. But they made it look so good. After trying it, I realized I loved my potato with more than just butter.

Sure, I could have chosen to not eat with people who put sour cream on their potatoes. But I might not have ever realized how much better my potato could be.

So now I've compared my wife to sour cream. Guess I'll be sleeping in the guest room tonight.

Why are there so many restaurants? Because there are so many different tastes. If you went to a restaurant where they only served cedar plank salmon with asparagus, how often would you go there? If that was your favorite meal, it would be fine; for awhile at least. But how long would they stay in business?

I have my list of favorite restaurants. Some of them are also on my wife's list. But some aren't. So we may go to my choice one time, and hers another.

And it's not really even about compromise.

To me, compromise is about settling for something that neither of you really wanted, just so you can both accept the decision. I want a nice steak for dinner, and she wants just vegetables or a salad. A compromise would be eating at a restaurant that has okay steak and decent vegetables, so we can both sort of get what we want.

Compatibility may be about branching out to find a new restaurant neither of us might have ever tried. And we might not like one or two that we try. But the point is to choose to enjoy the search together. Eventually, we can find somewhere that has great steak, and great vegetables. We both enjoy the meal, and neither had to settle.

It's all about the journey.

We like to laugh about our "adventures". It seems any time we do something, all kinds of things go wrong. But we have learned to laugh about it. Maybe not right in the moment, but later, it is a reminder that we can have fun, even when things aren't going as planned.

We went to Seattle in July to visit my son. One afternoon, while he was still at work, we spent the day in the city. We tried a do nut shop we had seen on a show we like to watch. (One I would not originally have considered watching, but learned I loved it after watching it a few times). After the do nut shop, we rode the monorail to the Space Needle. Then we rode the monorail back. It was a simple matter to find the garage we had parked in.

We must have walked six miles, trying to find the parking garage. I was frustrated, because I have always had a great sense of direction. But we spent a good two hours, trying to find the car. My wife was patient, and didn't gripe at all. That was a great thing because I was griping enough at myself to cover both of us. We finally found the garage, and the car. And it became something we laughed about (later).

Before our first date, if you had told my wife that I would drag her up and down the streets of Seattle for two or three hours trying to find the car, she may have decided I wasn't for her. If you told me before our first date that she was a beach-lover who loved shopping and watching HGTV, I might have wondered how compatible we might be. Like any relationship, we learn and grow together. We could have allowed the differences to push us apart, and decide we just weren't compatible. The vast majority of people would understand.

Some areas in our lives were compatible. Some were not. But instead of focusing on the areas that were not, we focused on those that were at first. And along the way, we have created compatibility.

"Life's too short to be unhappy."

I agree completely.

So I choose to be happy. And I choose to do it with my wife. Does she occasionally irritate me? Sure. Do I ever aggravate her? I absolutely drive her up the wall.

But here we are, nineteen plus years into the marriage. And we are far more compatible than we were even a couple of years ago.

It doesn't just happen.

Compatibility = work.

We have the misconception that love should be easy. If it is hard, it wasn't meant to be. And we use the "we just aren't compatible" as a shortcut to get out of a situation that may be a little uncomfortable, or isn't "fun" at the moment.

"We have irreconcilable differences."

Really? You can't reconcile? Or you refuse to because it isn't fun anymore? Someone else might be more compatible.

The next time you are having a tough day at work, just quit.

You need to lose a few pounds? Well, diet and....wait that isn't fun. Just keep eating donuts and pizza, and enjoy life.

In either scenario, you end up miserable anyway. Quit your job, and you can't pay your bills, and you lose your home. Eat whatever you want, and ankles, knees, hips and back hurt, and you are at risk of a heart attack.

That doesn't sound fun at all to me.

Life is a journey. We want to enjoy the view from the top of the mountain. But on the way, it will be hard work. If we persevere, we will be rewarded.

I get to learn about my wife on this journey. Who she is, and what she likes, and doesn't.

We have chosen to create compatibility.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Fall

2016-09-23T09:45:00.000-07:00

It is now September 23rd, two days after the official start of Autumn. This is my favorite time of the year.

As a child, it meant the start of a new school year. I didn't do particularly well in school, so it wasn't that I loved the studying or learning aspect of it. But I loved getting to see friends again. And I loved the excited feeling of beginning a new grade.

In high school, it meant the start of hunting season. I've never been much of a hunter, really. Actually, I don't classify myself as any kind of hunter. Our hunting trips usually meant shooting our limit of coke cans and plastic bottles. But I loved being outdoors, camping and shooting. And I loved hanging out with my best friend, Dewayne (everyone called him Bubba). I loved the early morning campfires, and the cold in my face. Some of my favorite memories were of those trips to his family's land in Brownsboro.

It also meant the arrival of my favorite holidays. I loved Halloween (I still do), and Christmas was my very favorite, for obvious reasons. Presents, certainly, but it was so much more. I love the festive lights and decorations; the pretty Christmas tree; and the fact that most of the family seemed happier during that time.

It meant my brother, Stuart, and I would begin our tradition of wrapping each other's presents in a way that disguised what might be inside. Sometimes, that meant wrapping a coin he wanted to add to his collection inside a shoe box, with a large rock, and some thumbtacks in a Sucrets can. Other times, I meant wrapping a small box in a larger box, in a larger box, etc. And each one had to be individually wrapped to prolong the joy of unwrapping.

And the night before Christmas meant Stuart and I would be in our bunk beds, guessing what Santa had brought us. When we were really young, it also meant a middle of the night trip to creep out through the hallways and peak, long before mom or dad were awake. We didn't walk right in to see everything...just a tiny sliver of it. Then at 6:00, when we had permission to wake them, it was off to dad's room to wake him, and then to mom's. And we had to wait until they had a cup of coffee before we hurried to the front room, where Christmas was waiting.

I know a lot of people have grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins all around on Christmas morning. We only had the four of us. But I never felt cheated.

Eggnog was also one of my favorite things about Christmas. As an adult, I'm thankful it is only a Christmas-time treat. If it were available all year, I would either grow sick of it, or weight 800 pounds. Or both.

A lot of people like Fall, for various reasons. The changing of the leaves is one I hear a lot. Living in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex, we don't have as many tress as a lot of places, but I do enjoy the different colors around this time of year.

People here like the the Stock Show and Rodeo, and the State Fair. I've never been to the Stock Show. And I've only been to the Fair three or four times in my life. I'm an animal lover, but the Stock Show just never seemed interesting to me. Rodeos are kind of fun, and I've been to several, but not at the Stock Show. The Fair can be fun, but I usually feel it is too crowded, and expensive, to warrant the hassle. Granted, if my wife decides she wants to go, I'm game. And I will have fun once I get there. The few things I enjoy at the Fair are the car pavilions, the animals, and of course, the food. Way overpriced, and just about as unhealthy as anything you could eat, some of the items are found nowhere else but the Fair. And they deserve an entire blog all to themselves. All that being said, I seldom feel a loss if I don't go.

My wife loves Fall because it means Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back at Starbucks. I love pumpkin pie, but never found a taste for the PSL, as she longingly refers to her favorite coffee flavor. And since the introduction several years ago, everyone seems to have jumped on the pumpkin spice bandwagon. PS candy, gum, candles, snack cakes, Pop-Tarts....I was playing around on the Internet, building a Jeep Wrangler Unlimited, and it has the option of a pumpkin spice lift-kit. Well, it doesn't, but I might suggest it. At least PS wheels and tires. If it catches on, they may give me a Jeep as a thank you. I'll take mine without the pumpkin spice, please.

As an adult, one of the things I enjoy most about Autumn is the cooler weather. I was never bothered by playing football, or soccer when it was 100° outside. Now, even as an adult, if I'm invited to play soccer, I will happily join, although I can't run as long, as fast, or stay in the heat all day like I could in years past. In general, the older I get, the more the heat bothers me. And when the crispness of the Fall air begins to show, I find myself with a little more pep in my step.

Autumn also means we can sit outside occasionally in the evenings. Generally, there are fewer bugs around, although it can also mean they are trying to find their way into our warm home. I can sometimes drive with the windows down on the truck, which is great since my AC is getting temperamental in its old age. And we can open the house windows in the evening for fresh air. And the smell of fireplaces in the air puts a smile on my face.

So, in spite of the temperature being in the mid-nineties today, I know the cooler weather is just around the corner. And with it, Halloween, fireplaces, open windows and Christmas. And Pumpkin Spice Lattes.

War on the Blue?

2016-09-15T14:23:00.000-07:00

So lately, there has been a call for the shooting of police officers.

I just want to make sure I understand. Thugs who break the law, and assault a police officer are victims when the officer is forced to defend himself?

Fair enough.

So if you are one of those who decide you want to go against law enforcement, and want a target put on officers, that is your choice.

But if you are going to make that decision, you need to consider a couple of things.

1. When you wake in the middle of the night to thugs kicking in your front door to steal or kill your family, do not dial 911. If you hate the police, you have no right to call on them when you need help. Call the drug dealer or gang member, and let them come to your aid.

2. If you are willing to assault a police officer, know that there may be someone like me nearby, who will NOT stand idly by, waiting for you to finish the job. You will quickly find yourself outnumbered, fighting those willing to fight to the death to defend our brothers and sisters in blue.

3. You are the minority in this war.

There are millions of us who appreciate the work the police do day in and day out. Are there some officers who are racist? Probably. But the vast majority of officers are honest, good men and women who uphold the law, regardless of the color of a person's skin. And those of us who recognize that are highly offended by those of you who wish to do them harm.

To the men and women in blue: know that you have a lot of people on your side.

You don't know who I am. You may never notice me. I'm the one at the gas pump next to you, looking all around, just to make sure there are no potential threats to you. I am the one parked outside the grocery store, waiting for my wife, also diligently watching the rest of the lot. I thank God daily for you and the service you provide. I pray for you daily, and that you will return to your family safely after your shift. And I am sorry for the difficulties you face every day in a job that is already the most stressful.

I will forever watch out for you, wherever I am.

I am in your corner.

I have your six.

And I am not alone.

Becoming an Ephesians Kind of Husband

2016-09-15T12:15:00.000-07:00

Ephesians 5:

25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her, 26 so that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, 27 that He might present to Himself the church in all her glory, having no spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that she would be holy and blameless. 28 So husbands ought also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He who loves his own wife loves himself; 29 for no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ also does the church, 30 because we are members of His body. 31 For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and shall be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. 32 This mystery is great; but I am speaking with reference to Christ and the church. 33 Nevertheless, each individual among you also is to love his own wife even as himself, and the wife must see to it that she respects her husband.

For the past year, I have been dealing with this issue. We all know how we poke fun at this. Men quote Ephesians 5:22: Wives, submit to your husbands, as unto the Lord. And for many years, I was bothered that it didn't seem many women submitted to their husbands. In fact, the last twenty years has seen men too often portrayed as bumbling fools. How many commercials show a man trying to do something, and the wife comes to his rescue? When did we decide that men had to be rescued because we were incapable of knowing how to do the simplest things?

But I digress...

I'm not a tough, macho kind of man. I love playing sports, shooting, wrestling with my dog, and until recently, participated in a Krav Maga class. (If you are unfamiliar, you can Google it). So I'm not a wimp, certainly. But I speak softly, and very seldom find anything worth arguing over. I act like an idiot most of the time to make people laugh. So if you were to walk into a room, and look for a man who would make a strong leader, you would likely look past me to someone taller, stronger and tougher looking.

Why would my wife submit to me? If I were taller, stronger, louder, more assertive...more of a leader......

Blah, blah, blah.

I spent so many years wishing I could be someone else. "If I looked like he does, my wife would love me more; respect me more," etc.

I began studying the Bible again for my own purposes. From time to time, I would just bounce around and focus on certain areas. Other times, I would find it hard to decide what I wanted to study. It was during on of those time, I decided to just open the Bible and let it fall open. It went to Ephesians 5.

"Well, that's dumb," I thought. "I've studied that."

I wanted something different. But something told me to really study it. So I started reading through it quickly, knowing I knew the text. I had taught it at least a couple of times in different ways. And I taught it the way I feel it needed to be taught.

When discussing the Garden of Eden, we men tend to joke about Eve being the reason life is so hard. But I think we all understand that she was tempted first. Adam certainly would have also fallen if Satan had gone to him first. And Adam willingly strayed. Adam was held accountable.

So in teaching Ephesians 5, I had taught about how we are to love our wives as Christ loved the church, and gave Himself for her. I know if it ever comes down to it, I will absolutely step in front of my wife to take a bullet to save her. But what God began to reveal to me was much harder than that.

Harder than taking a bullet? What could possibly be harder than that?

Living it.

As I taught this years ago, I tried to focus on being the type of man my wife would want to submit to. I began truly praying for holiness. I truly started seeking God to lead me in even the smallest things. And I began to feel differently. But something was still not right. My relationship with my wife.

We don't fight. We don't argue even, really. There have been a couple of times, but overall, it feels like a pretty peaceful place. But I kept going back to Ephesians 5. For months, I kept wondering what God was trying to tell me. I thought I was doing this right. But He began to open my eyes to a deeper meaning in the words.

"...love your wife, as Christ loved the church...."

Yes, I understood. Christ gave His life for the church. I'm willing to do that.

"...love your wife, as Christ loves you...."

Okay. Christ gave His life for me. I'm willing...

"...love Dawn, as I have loved you..."

I've taken a couple of IQ tests (and not the silly ten question ones). My scores were between 137 and 143. So I don't consider myself ignorant. But it still took awhile. I began to really think about how Christ loves me. I had to stop there. I couldn't even consider loving my wife until I truly understood how He loved me.

That was eye opening in itself. Yes, I know all of the Sunday School answers about God's love for me. But I've never really understood it. I tend to bash myself with "if you were better", or "God loves you, but"... I found myself at the end of the day, realizing I had failed again, in one way or another. Someone I was supposed to talk to, or something I wasn't supposed to do. Irritation and bitterness over the situation at work. Realizing that I hadn't been a "good Christian" that day left me wondering why God would choose to love me at all.

Yet, I know that Jesus Himself prays for me.

John 17:20 “I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word..."

Jesus was praying for His disciples, and also for those (us) who believe in Him through their (the disciples') word.

In spite of how I fail, Christ prays for me. He stands before God to intercede when Satan accuses me. The difference between me and Job is when Satan accuses me, he's absolutely right.

"God, look how Laron......"

Guilty as charged.

And Jesus answers that He has already paid for that.

I don't understand it, but I'll accept it. It must hurt Christ horribly when I blatantly disregard His word. When I go against His will. When I ignore Him. When I choose to follow my own path instead of His wiser, more loving way. He died a death I can't fathom, to offer me a life with Him. Because He loves me. And no matter how many times I fail, He is always there; loving me; praying for me.

Wow.

Revelation received.

This may come as a shock, but I married an imperfect woman. Which is okay, because I'm far from a perfect man.

"...love Dawn as I love you..."

My biggest failure as a husband? Being married for 16 years before realizing this.

When my wife does something that hurts me, I am not to try to punish her, or feel negatively toward her. I am to love her. I am to help her. I am to pray for her.

Really? It's okay when she accidentally forgets some little thing. But I have to pray for her when she willingly does something she knows will hurt me?

"...love Dawn as I love you..."

I don't want to ever lose the love of Christ. The Bible tells me it is impossible. But I know I can choose to live outside His will for me. And I don't ever want to lose the knowledge that He is praying for me, even when I have failed.

So I must be willing to love my wife the same way.

Thank you, Jesus, for loving me in a way I cannot comprehend. Thank you for being willing to leave your home in Heaven to live in a fallen world. For teaching us your way. And most of all, for your grace and patience with one of your most stubborn pupils. Thank you for praying for me even when I go astray. Teach me every day to love my wife as you love me.

Pickin' Up Poop

2016-08-29T15:03:00.001-07:00

URINE REMOVER

2016-06-17T08:26:00.001-07:00

We were walking around Lowe’s the other day. We had just moved into a new house. It’s the only time my wife likes being at Lowe's. She gets to decorate. Organization. Under the sink storage; closet storage. We were walking down the cleaning product aisle. In Lowe's. Cleaning products. How did that happen?

I get how it started. I'm betting it started with push brooms. That’s a man’s broom. Some manly man doesn’t want to use a pink broom to sweep out the garage, so he has a huge push broom. Then they said, “Let’s add mops. That’s kind of like a broom.” Then they had to add the cleaning products to use with the mops.

And there's toilet paper.

Yes, Lowe’s sells toilet paper. Really?

I won’t even go there.

HAHA! Go there………nevermind.

So we’re walking down the cleaning aisle, looking at something to clean our new hand scraped wood floors. Hand scraped. I scraped our hardwood floors once and got yelled at. NOW, they’re the nicest thing to have in your house. Go figure.

So I’m a couple of steps ahead of my wife, and she taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and she is holding a bottle of Urine remover.

Urine remover? That’s GENIUS!

I look at the shelf, and there is plenty of it.

“Stay here,” I tell her, as I rush off.

I come back with an empty cart, and start loading up. Little bit of useless trivia for you here. You can fit 119 bottles of Urine Remover in a Lowe’s shopping cart.

We get to the register, and the woman obviously wasn’t happy I chose her lane. Maybe she was at the end of her shift. But kudos to her; she is trying to be nice.

“Goodness,” she says, looking at the cart. “Do you know how many you have?”

“No,” I smile. “I didn’t count. I just dumped them all in.

She is trying to be polite, but I can sense the tension.

“You must have a LOT of dogs,” she says, shaking her head slightly.

What kind of dumb statement is that? How did she make that assumption? I look at my wife, and she gives me a look that seems to convey that I’m the one not understanding something.

She grabs her little scanner, and comes around to our side of the counter. She grabs an empty basket, and pulls it next to ours. Picking up the bottles, she begins to scan.

“One, two, three…”

I can see her smile leaving as she gets to around thirty.

“Guess I should have counted them,” I offer.

Her smile is completely gone now.

She empties the partially filled basket and starts over.

“One, two, three.”

I look back at my wife, who is smirking and shaking her head.

I give her the look that only people who have been married for fifteen years have learned to comprehend. She steps toward me, and says I messed up her counting by talking to her.

“…twenty-one, twenty-two…”

Being the nice guy I am, I quickly apologize.

I hear the sigh escape her lips as she stops. Once again, she empties the mostly empty cart into my almost full one.

“One, two….”

I feel badly for her. I was only trying to be nice. She has a hard job. A lot of people shopping at Lowe’s are men, and they aren’t there because they get to do something fun. They are there because something broke, or their wives have decided they want new shelves put up in the laundry. It’s the weekend, and that means the projects are cutting into our football time.

I look behind my wife at the other people in line, and there isn’t a smile to be had. I look back at the checker, still counting.

“Wow. No wonder you’re so grumpy…”

Ever feel the words coming out of your mouth, right as your brain tells you NOT to say it?

“Thanks, brain. I know it NOW.”

It’s not even a sigh. It’s a full-blown groan.

I’ve learned my lesson. Not another word from me.

Just then, I hear the call come over the intercom.

“We need all available checkers to the front please.”

She was doing wonderfully, and was almost pleasant again as I heard her nearing the eighty mark.

“…76, 77…”

Then the beeping stopped. I can see she is pressing the little trigger, but there are no beeps to be had.

She looked at me like it was my fault.

I looked at her apologetically, and said, “guess you should have checked the battery on your scanner, huh?”

Okay, so I hadn’t learned my lesson.

I was happy to get out of there with my loot, and couldn’t wait to try it.

Think about it. What an awesome time-saver. And I’m 50. I need all the time I can get. No more middle of the night trips. In fact, I’ll never have to go to the bathroom again.

Yeah, well…that night, the Emergency Room nurses were laughing too. My wife was laughing so hard she could barely get the entire story out. I thought that was pretty rude. I had my head stuck in a little bucket, getting rid of everything I had eaten in the last six months, and they are all laughing at me.

I think that may have been worse than dealing with the grumpy people at Lowe's.

FIRST RESPONDER

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

Reports out now show that Fort Worth Police Department is now reaching the ten minute mark on priority 1 calls. Priority 1 means there is an immediate threat to human life. So if you are being attacked in your home by an intruder, you can expect the police to show up in 9 minutes and 45 seconds.

**Please do NOT misunderstand this...I am extremely thankful for the police, and all that they do. I thank God for them every day.**

But this report shows one thing:

YOU ARE THE FIRST RESPONDER

When you or your family are being threatened, YOU are the only one you can count on to defend yourself.

The police do a wonderful job. However, there are 20 officers for every 10,000 citizens. They can only do so much.

Should you find yourself being awakened in the middle of the night by someone kicking in your front door, you have a couple of options:

1. You can dial 911 and pray there is an officer rolling down your street at that exact moment

2. You can defend yourself

In 1996, the average was 12 seconds from the time a home invasion begins, and the moment you were faced with a deadly force decision. So the instant someone begins to kick your door in (or climb in a window), you have 12 seconds before you decide whether to pull the trigger or not.

So picture a police officer driving up your street. Even if he is sitting two houses down, the likelihood that he will make it to your house in time to stop you or your family from being injured or killed is slim. Count the seconds to yourself as you think about what has to happen.

You are startled from your sleep by a horrendous sound.

The stopwatch has started.

It takes you at least a second to convince yourself that the sound you heard is real, and not just a dream.

"Someone is breaking in" you think to yourself.

You waste at least a half-second trying to decide what to do as you shake the sleepy cobwebs from your brain.

"Call 911" you think and reach for your phone.

tick-tick

You unlock your phone, (we'll say you actually get it right the first time, even though you are still not fully functioning), and dial 911.

It rings.

tick-tick

"911, what is your emergency?"

You are relieved that they answered on the first ring.

"Yes, I live at....."

You have to give them your address, since you are likely on a cell phone.

"Someone just kicked my front door in, and I think they're in the house"

Your 12 seconds are up. You look up, and see a man (or two or three men) walking into your bedroom. One has a gun, and the other two have knives.

NOW what do you do?

I'm not going to try to talk to you about buying a gun for home defense, or getting your Concealed Handgun License so you can defend your family.

I just want you to realize that you may not be able to depend on the police during the few seconds you really need them.

Seat belts do a great job, but if you wait until you start to get into an accident before putting them on, it is too late.

The police will get there as soon as they can, but they will likely only be able to take a report about what happened.

What do you do to defend yourself?

Make no mistake...you are the first responder. It is up to you to defend your life, and the lives of your family. If you do not prepare now, you may simply become another statistic.

Why I Carry ALL The Time

2015-01-17T05:10:00.000-08:00

My wife was teasing me one day a couple of years ago when I was in the kitchen with my gun on my hip.

"Do you really think you need that in here?" she asked.

Yes. Yes I do.

Obviously, I hope to be safer inside my own home than out somewhere at a restaurant. But I read the news. And I am on the internet enough to see what kind of world we are living in now.

I explained to her that if I am in the kitchen, and someone kicks in the door, my gun is on the other side of the house. I may as well not even have one. I have friends who say if that happened to them, they would remain calm and reason with the person.

If someone is willing to kick you door in when they know you are home, there is no reasoning to be had. They are willing to commit a felony (they are likely armed, and that is not only breaking and entering, but armed robbery). They are willing to do bodily harm to you. And there are countless cases of people trying to reason with the intruder, and still winding up dead.

The story below is of two women who were killed by men running from the police. They were "safe" inside their homes.

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Two Florida residents, a mother and daughter, were brutally murdered inside their home during a chance encounter with four armed and wanted men after they wound up at the home during a crime spree and police chase.

These men were on the run after robbing a pawn shop, and became trapped inside the residential development they happened upon during the chase. Abandoning their vehicle, they burst inside the home of 51-year-old Deborah Royal, and her mother 72-year-old Patricia Moran.

As police were setting up a perimeter around the home they believed the men went into, a vehicle came right through the garage door. Police fired at the vehicle before it quickly crashed.

Before the men tried to get away by ramming the garage door, they brutally murdered the two women inside their home. The women were simply inside their own home, and had no warning as to what was about to happen.

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Having a gun, and NOT having it on you is no help. The link below is of a video where a man and two friends are killed in a home invasion at 7:30 AM.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vaBMV2BfwBc

You can watch the video from an MSNBC news story. I WARN YOU -- it is graphic.

The homeowner had suffered break in burglaries, and had installed hidden cameras inside his home.

While he visits with his friends, a man comes to the back door, pointing a gun at him. Once inside, he hits the homeowner with the gun, and beats him while he is on the ground. The women are tied up while the thugs rummage through the home.

The homeowner owned a gun. But it was in the bedroom. He owned a CHL, and didn't feel a need to carry at home.

With the homeowner's own gun from the bedroom, one of the intruders shoots all three victims in the head. (He missed one of the women, but they are all three shot again by the first gunman).

These things happen. If you own a gun, please keep it on you, even at home. There are bad people everywhere.

Don't be another victim.

Thou, Oh LORD Are a Shield For Me

2014-10-08T05:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was one of “those days”.

The day before yesterday, during lunch, I was going through some of my old file folders and cleaning up. I came across a folder of old choir songs. I created a playlist for them, so I could listen to them while I’m playing with my square pegs.

Yesterday, I was frustrated for a myriad of reasons. Actually, frustration doesn't accurately describe how I was feeling. I was far past frustrated. I felt angry. I cried out to God, even though I certainly did not feel like praying. Most of you know that feeling. You need help, but you’re angry and frustrated, and don’t want to pray.

How dumb is that?

It’s like having a car that has a grinding sound from the engine, but instead of getting it to a mechanic, who can diagnose and fix it, we would rather just be angry and complain.

But I began praying (which can be interpreted as angrily griping about my situation). Thank you, God, for being such a loving, patient Father to your spoiled little children.

As I was praying, I felt the still small voice tell me to listen to some music, and keep working on the square pegs. So I did what any “good” Christian who desires to serve and honor his Father does. I continued to complain. I did not “feel like” listening to music.

After a moment, I gave up, and opened Media Player on my computer. There were my playlists:

· Choir

· Bible (the entire Bible in audio format)

· Country

· Rock (exactly what it sounds like)

· Uplifting (Contemporary Christian music)

If I was going to listen to anything, I was in the mood for rock. But I found myself kicking off the Choir list.

And the music started.

Still angry…

Still frustrated…

Still didn’t want to listen to anything, much less Choir songs…

Thou, Oh Lord

Many are they increased that troubled me
Many are they that rise up against me
Many there be which say of my soul
There is no help for him in God

But Thou, oh Lord are a shield for me
My glory and the lifter of my head
Thou, oh Lord are a shield for me
My glory and the lifter of my head

I cried unto the Lord with my voice
And he heard me out of His holy hill
I laid me down and slept and awaked
For the Lord sustained, for he sustained me

Thou, oh Lord are a shield for me
My glory and the lifter of my head
Thou, oh Lord are shield for me
My glory and the lifter of my head

I soon found myself singing along.

Music speaks to me in a way the spoken word never will. And there were so many songs I loved singing in choir. This was close to the top of the list. As I silently sang my way through the song, I began to tear up as I hit the bridge.

I cried unto the Lord with my voice
And he heard me out of His holy hill
I laid me down and slept and awaked
For the Lord sustained, for he sustained me

And for some reason, I began to feel peace…

After the song ended, I played it again. As the song neared the same spot, I felt it even stronger. As I was crying to the LORD with my voice, He heard me. And He was telling me that He would sustain me.

I can’t explain the peace of God. I don’t often feel it this strongly. Deep inside, I know everything will be okay. But in the midst of trials, I too often feel alone, and abandoned. His word promises me I will never be that. Ever. This was one time He chose to sooth my anger with His gentle peace almost immediately.

If you have experienced that peace before, then you understand what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, I could try all day to explain it, and you still wouldn't truly understand.

I don’t deserve for the God of all creation to take the time to worry about my little problems. And please understand what I’m saying. When He does, it has absolutely NOTHING to do with me being worth anything. It is always ALL about His unfailing love. His mercy. His grace. Why He chooses to bestow it on my during the times I’m most unlovable is something I will never understand this side of heaven.

But I’ll gladly take it any time He chooses to give it.

No idea what I’m talking about?

For God so loved the world….

You’ve all heard it…most of you can quote it.

But do you believe it? And does it make a difference in your life?