Mrs. O. and Me

Breakfast with Joe

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Thu, 10 Jun 2021 19:36:00 +0000

Starbucks is where I met Joe. Not initially, but on a particular Saturday morning. We had arranged a meeting several weeks prior. That meeting was cancelled for one reason or the other and I seem to remember it being rescheduled and cancelled again. In any case, however many times it was rescheduled, it finally happened on the Saturday after I came back from Florida.

Joe had mentioned earlier in the summer of 2019 that he may want to connect me with a church plant team to grow the church's presence in our city. I loved that idea! As I mentioned in The Five Years, I committed internally that I would do this church leadership thing for 5 years, and we were in the last few weeks of the last year. I was thinking in my head that Joe could connect me with the church plant team, I could identify a candidate or two who might be good longterm leaders, then I could tell Joe that I was stepping down and turn everything over to this other person or people, and have a rest from the leadership role and just enjoy being a part of the church. I loved this plan.

And then came my trip to Florida.

I didn't know what the plan was now. I didn't really have a plan. I had recently made a call to Duane which helped bring some semblance of clarity to the options, but I didn't really have a plan.

So, I met Joe to ask him about his thoughts, and now I had to tell him about Florida.

He knew most of the story, so we recapped briefly. I told him about wanting more information about a church plant team and how it would ultimately work...

... oh, and there's something else. Florida.

He thought for a minute and then he told me he thought Florida was a "Psalm 37:4 thing."

Take delight in the Lord,

and he will give you the desires of your heart.

I told Joe a little story: back in college there was a job I didn't want. I prayed and asked God for a different one even though I had this opportunity for a perfectly good job, I just didn't want it. Everyone said there wasn't anything around this place but cornfields. My grandmother sent me a little devotional right about that time, and on the front was a picture of a cornfield and two verses: Psalm 37:3,4.

Later, I was graduating and resisting the idea of going to graduate school. I hated the idea of graduate school. I was also dating someone that wasn't good for me, and frankly, I wasn't good for her. I prayed and told God I would do whatever he wanted me to do even if it meant going to graduate school and breaking up with this girl--I assumed that would render me a life of solitude, but we all know what happens when we assume! I got off my bed, wiped the tears from my eyes and decided to move on with my day. I picked up my mail and read a letter from a friend. At the end of her letter she wrote a verse. Yep. Psalm 37:3,4.

Joe said he could see this process going like this: he would send out some 'feelers' and find out what people were thinking--who might be ready to move to Louisville and become part of this team. He suggested the simplest way to structure the transition would be to dissolve the existing bylaws, and thus the structure of the organization, and we operate like a church plant while a new team comes into place.

Sound familiar?

So, this was a significant verse for me and a significant meeting:

This verse had come up again when I had an 'unwanted' or really just unforeseen opportunity.

This conversation was the second time someone independently suggested the same solution: dissolve the old and create something new.

A Call to Duane

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Thu, 10 Jun 2021 19:07:00 +0000

After A Trip to Florida I called Duane.

"Duane, you'll never guess what's happening..."

I told him all about everything. I told him that I had a meeting scheduled with the church leader who oversees our area that very next day. I told him I had a meeting with the two guys on our church's leadership team. I told him about Florida.

I was nervous about talking to Duane, but one thing I know is that Duane would tell me the honest truth. I knew he would tell me what he truly thought and felt, even if he thought I wouldn't like it. I knew Duane held the fulfillment of responsibility in high regard, and leaving a post to take a different position isn't something he would take lightly. I needed to know what he thought, and I anticipated he would not like the idea of Florida.

I was surprised.

To paraphrase our conversation, Duane talked through how the transition might go. He does hold the fulfillment of responsibility in high regard and that fact came up in our conversation. He said he could see the 'rightness' of a transition plan under certain circumstances.

He and I had discussed the future of the church before--years earlier, and on a regular basis including several times in the weeks just preceding the trip to Florida. We had discussed the significance of the church's formal, but perhaps nominal ties to a larger worldwide organization. We had discussed the potential wisdom in strengthening that connection. We had discussed the need to bring in some folk from that organization and ways that might be possible--in cooperation with the organization's leadership.

During this call we did an inventory. We remembered the things we had each felt when we had those moments of the 'strong sense' over the past years. We discussed my sense that I was supposed to find the 'kink in the hose' so it could be un-stoppered and the hose could be connected up to a new faucet. We discussed the pruning of the trees and the nurse branch. We discussed his sense that the existing organization may need to be 'planted' and die, as a seed dies to then sprout new growth. The organization, after all, is only there to support what God is doing in the life of the people. If the support is no longer effective, it needs to be reimagined, remodeled, rebuilt. We discussed the timing as all of this was happening at the end of the 5 years.

Duane concluded that if the current organization dissolved, my position would dissolve with it and whatever took its place would take my place as well. Florida could very well be the next thing for me and my family.

How would we know for sure? I mentioned it before, but it's helpful to mention here: often when I have a strong sense about something that proves to be significant, it comes up several times. That repetition is important here.

There were still people who needed to weigh in.

A Trip to Florida

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Thu, 10 Jun 2021 18:38:00 +0000

Sometime in late September or early October my friend called me from Florida. They still had no one doing my particular job and there was one particular item, an inspection of some parts of the construction work, that required someone like me. She called. "We really need this work done to keep our timelines on schedule and we're out of options. Can you do this work for us?"

This would be crazy. I didn't have a Florida license or personal liability insurance. So many reasons to say, 'no.' So, I told her all of this and agreed to help her find someone locally who could help out.

"There's not time," she insisted. We're out of options.

Reluctantly, I agreed on the condition that I could get the license and the insurance. The obstacles quickly melted away. The license and insurance quickly revealed themselves to be very small obstacles which were easily overcome. Before I knew it, I had a couple of days off and I flew with my family to Florida. It quickly became apparent that this was more than a contract job, but rather a surreptitious interview! I was not alarmed, but strengthened in my resolve that Florida was not for me, or for us.

After the 'interview' meet-and-greets, I was indeed impressed with the whole operation, and shocked to realize how closely matched my experience was to the plans this organization had in progress. I enjoyed my day thoroughly, and the construction inspection was smooth. Quite a lot of fun, which was followed by an invitation to dinner. During the dinner with my friend and her new colleagues, we were exchanging stories of the past few weeks, her transition to this new job, the joys and trials of moving, and so on. It was a fun close to a fun day.

Back at the hotel, my head hit the pillow and my eyes popped open. "When did my friend say she moved?" I remembered the date changing several times as she worked to make sure the dates were amenable to the former workplace, the new workplace, her family, etc.

Remember the "45 days" from the Broken Chains post? My friend had prayed for me, and he felt like there was something happening for me in 45 days, which turned out to be September 13. He mentioned that I wouldn't know on that day that something was happening, but that sometime in the future someone would tell me about something happening on September 13, and I would know this was God moving something along for me. I sent her a text right that moment.

"When did you say you moved to Florida?"

"I moved on September 13."

No.

Way.

Was this part of the thing that would be my next season? I mentioned this to Mrs O. I wasn't convinced, but I was certainly intrigued.

Our last activity before flying back to Kentucky was to go to the beach. We didn't have much time, but we drove out to the beach on one of the islands before heading to the airport. We had a great time, albeit very short. Then, on the bridge crossing back into town I saw something that hit me at my core. I saw the skyline which bore a striking resemblence to the shiny new train in my dream I mentioned in The Inventory--sleek and white, with shiny bluish green windows.

Coincidence? I don't know.

My resolve about Florida not being for me? Gone.

The next day at the airport, my friend called. They wanted to make an offer, but they knew how I had responded before and they wouldn't continue unless I was open to it.

"I... I don't know if I'm open to it. I'll need some time to figure that out."

Inventory

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Fri, 02 Oct 2020 06:12:00 +0000

It's time for a review of the things I believe God impressed on me over the five years regarding what He was getting ready to do. This inventory, of sorts, has consistently been a critical step in my journey because it is so easy to get overwhelmed with the details--the details that matter and the details that don't matter.

Over time, I have experiences like I mentioned in the last posts where I have a strong sense about something. Sometimes I pray and ask for discernment and then something will hit me in a strange way and I just know deep down that it is related to my prayer. Other times something just hits me in a strange way and I begin to pray after the fact that God would help me discern whether that strange sense is something I need to remember. I'm sure it can happen in a myriad of ways, but in any case, it's easy to forget those experiences and my resolve to pay attention to them. Periodically, I need a moment of quiet to remember and take an inventory of those things, asking God to show me the thread that joins them all together.

Here are the moments that seem the most significant...

A kink in the hose:

At the very beginning of 2015, or even before, Mrs O and I had seen evidence of great hurt at THV. It felt as though something had stuck--a clog, a kink in a garden hose, or a rusty spigot that just wouldn't open and let the water run. I was looking for the source of the kink in the hose. I felt like God was asking me to search for the source of the problem so the proverbial hose could be disconnected from the broken spigot and connected up to one that is functional.

This is my favorite kind of work! I love being a catalyst for change. I love seeing the look on people's faces when they release themselves from captivity having recognized what is holding them back. The difficult thing is realizing it is not up to me. It is a great disappointment to see someone faced with the opportunity to be free who does not want to take it, but hope springs eternal that one day the joy of freedom will be so alluring the work of getting there will seem a small price.

Plowing the ground:

I remember some teaching I did at the beginning of the five years where I felt strongly that we needed to do some preparation as a group. I felt like we needed to identify things that were getting in the way of our progress, as individuals and as a group. The picture I had in my mind was a picture of a large field being harrowed or plowed up. Each time rocks were removed until finally the ground was soft, without rocks, and ready for planting.

The pruning:

There was also a time when I felt like God was showing me that the numbers at THV would get depressingly low. I was not to count people because I would become discouraged as God did some pruning. Pruning need not be considered a negative thing, either for THV or those being pruned away. It may be in some cases, and it may not be in others. Pruning is not simply to get rid of something bad. The purpose is to bear fruit. The Gardener can prune a scion out of one tree and graft it into another as He sees fit.

The purpose is to bear fruit, more fruit, better fruit.

The pruning analogy hit me while watching a couple of videos in an attempt to learn how to graft fruit trees. The first one kind of sets things up, but it's the second video which was so powerful to me. Two things seemed important to me in the second video: the pruning is a hard pruning where even full, lush, green growth is pruned away to let more sunlight in, and the nurse branch is there to feed the tree during the grafting process until the grafts are ready to carry on. The part about the nurse branch was particularly striking to me. It was very sudden. Final. Like when you're watching a dramatic movie and all of the sudden something is revealed.

The sound track stops.

Everything moves in slow motion for a moment while you absorb what you've just learned.

It was like that. I just didn't really understand what I'd just learned, yet.

If you want to watch the videos, they are short and the links are below. If the links fail to work, do a search for "Dave Wilson Nursery grafting" and I hope you'll find these two videos:

How to Graft a Fruit Tree

Tree Grafting 6 Month Follow-Up

Finish with planting:

I attended a Bible study at another church one day. A lady who attended our church was enjoying attending this study and she wondered if it would be interesting to me for our church, so I went with her one day. After the prayer time at the end of the study, a young woman came up to me and told me that during the prayer time she felt like God gave her three words for me: heal, restore, plant.

Why is 'plant' at the end? The order of the words seemed significant in that moment. But, planting seems like the beginning of something, not the end. It didn't occur to me until much later that these words were so compatible with the picture of the field being plowed. This was a season of preparation. We were preparing to plant.

Two trains:

I had a dream one day that I was on two trains at once--not inside the trains, but riding on top of two trains with my right foot on an old rusty steam engine and my left foot on a sleek white fast-looking train with shiny bluish green windows. They were going the same speed and I felt no urgency until I saw up ahead there was a tunnel. In my dream, I knew in my mind that I could not go through the tunnel on both trains. I had to move. I picked up my right foot and put both feet on the new sleek white train, and when I looked down the old rusty steam train had disintegrated into a cloud of rusty dust. It was completely gone.

A new thing:

I got several words that God was doing a "new" thing, that it was ideal that I was not trained formally as a pastor as I may be resistant to the "new" thing if I had been formally trained. These words came from folk inside the church and outside as they prayed for me, often these people did not know each other or have any knowledge that another person had prayed and sensed similar things. There were many times I felt unable to carry on, and these words kept me alive during some very difficult parts of the five years.

I've mentioned it before, but since we're doing an inventory I need to mention that I felt strongly that this season was a 5-year season. More specifically, I knew I had a vision for my role at THV for the calendar years 2015-2019. After the grafting and pruning word I felt strongly that I was not to complain about how it was going until the five years were up. My job was to live as transparently as possible. I was to share what God was doing in me and not worry about 'success' but simply do what I felt led to do. God and I had an appointment to discuss how things had been going at the end of the five years, on December 31, 2019 at midnight.

I'm sure there are more, but this is just an abbreviated inventory. The last bit I'll share didn't really feel like "a word" at the time, but looking back it clearly was a rhema word. THV leaders were at a retreat mid-September 2019 and I shared some of the things in this inventory with the group. I specifically shared the part about the five years. I'm not sure I had shared that before. I remember telling them how I looked forward to my meeting with God at midnight on December 31 and how I was going to tell him everything I had been holding back, "Except," I remember saying, "I have a feeling, by the time we get there, I'll know more about the next season and it won't be as difficult a conversation as it now seems."

This is just one in a series of stories about the events of the last year. If you would like to start at the beginning, go back and read about The Five Years.

Florida-phobia

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Fri, 10 Jul 2020 00:47:00 +0000

August 2019--I got a call from my friend who was moving to Sarasota. She hadn't moved yet, but she was making preparations and she had some questions. Her job involved opening a new facility and she asked if I would take a look at the architectural drawings. I was happy to do it. I love these kinds of projects! "By the way," she added "if you've reconsidered applying for the job, this is the time to send in your resume!"

I talked to Mrs. O again. Again, the timeline. And now the questions: am I holding myself to some artificial obligation that only exists in my head? Everyone around me at work knows I have wanted a job change for a long time. They must think I'm crazy for not taking this job. Why am I still here? Am I afraid of something?

I don't really like Florida that much, anyway.

I was afraid of alligators. I was afraid of sharks. I was afraid of stingrays. I was afraid of hurricanes. I was afraid of poisonous spiders. But most of all, I was afraid of poisonous snakes. You know that little rhyme about "a friend of Jack" that tells you how to tell a poisonous snake from a harmless one? Well, I never bothered to really figure it out because if I see a snake that MIGHT be poisonous, I'm not going to examine him closely enough to determine which kind he really is! I'm going to run away!

But, here's the thing. . . I want to be where I am supposed to be. But, how do you know? Mrs. O and I talked about the timeline. Is it possible the 5 years is over? Was it supposed to be approximately five years? When did the five years start anyway? I had begun taking on the new role in August of 2014 even though the official position started in January 2015. . . could the 5 years be over in August?

I prayed again. I thought back to the time when I had the strong sense that this was a five year job. When I consider how I felt at that time, I try to remember as accurately as I can how I felt and what exactly I sensed was going to happen. It seems impossible to remember the tiny details, but in these cases, it seems if I pray about it, I always seem to remember just a few of the most important details. Writing these things down in a journal also helps! I remember distinctly, the end of the five years feeling like it would come on December 31. I don't really know how or why I remember that particular detail--I just prayed and asked and He answered.

"If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you." James 1:5 (NIV)

The five years were 2015-2019. I knew in my heart these were the five years and I would not feel free to move on until the end of the calendar year. At church, the leaders had just begun a Bible study together: Experiencing God. It was turning out to be a great study and I was really enjoying it. It's funny--the lessons in the study were all about asking God to show you what he is about to do and follow Him into it. Each lesson seemed to help me along the way through these months as Mrs. O and I struggled to discern the best way forward.

Mrs. O had similar feelings to mine and she added that if God was about to do something amazing in the next couple of months, she didn't want to run away and miss it.

So, I declined Florida, again.

This is one in a series of stories about the events of this last year. If you want to start at the beginning, read about The Five Years. . . or go to the next one Inventory.

Broken Chains

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Thu, 09 Jul 2020 23:46:00 +0000

Toward the end of July 2019 I was looking forward to a professional meeting which was to take place in the middle of September. I had submitted a project for presentation and was waiting for news of its acceptance. I had a strong sense that this meeting may be significant to my job search in some way--a weird strong sense that on the surface didn't seem like it should amount to much, but it did. I was so convinced of the significance of this particular event that I had made a paper chain to count the days until the meeting. . . or, rather, the impending relief I was convinced would be coincident.

"For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay." Habakkuk 2:3

In church one Sunday we were singing a song about being free--free from all the things that hold us back. On the power point displaying the words was a background picture, a meme-like picture, of a person standing with arms out and broken chains. I thought to myself, "That looks like a paper chain." And all at once this thought hit me.

My paper chain is holding me back.

Not really my paper chain, but the expectation it represented. The expectation that life, or God, or someone owed something to me and it was due in the middle of September. I can't convey in words how transforming it was to let go of the expectation. I knew deep down at my core that I had taken something real and significant and I had deformed it. I had attached an expectation to the strong sense of the significance of the middle of September--an expectation about what kind of significance it would be. I was counting on meeting someone at the meeting with a job offer, some news of a job opportunity, or some other new beginning. I HAD to get to that meeting to meet that someone. . . maybe.

This feels like a good time to mention that a good deal of prayer and reflection is needed to discern the difference between the 'weird strong sense' that turned out to be something important and the expectation that turned out to be a burdensome limitation. Two thoughts on this: the real thing, the strong sense--when it has turned out to be truly significant--has always been repeated multiple times in different ways. This repetition has confirmed the significance to me and it brings an overwhelming sense of peace even in the face of many unknown details. I have begun to pay particular attention when I find myself having a strong sense multiple times related to the same event or decision. I find it important to pay attention to the practical aspects of what I'm sensing--what I believe I am supposed to do--as well as the more abstract things--how do I feel about this, and what fear do I have.

The misplaced expectation comes with an anxiety, a tension, a fear that my hope will be dashed if it proves false. Sometimes, like this particular time, it came with a sense that I had to get to that meeting to make this thing happen, that is to say, bring the relief I wanted so badly.

But here's the catch: I realized I had deformed the real thing by adding the expectation. When I realize I have made a mistake like this, I have to go back to the point where I felt the strong sense that this timing would be significant, the substance of the 'strong sense' was only that something significant would happen and it seemed like it might be related to my job.

Back to the song, and the power point with the man in the picture with the broken paper chain at his wrists. . . it felt like God was showing me He needed to own the paper chain--the expectations, and the timeline--and I wanted Him to own the paper chain. I didn't want my expectations to own me anymore.

At the end of July--I don't remember the exact day--I got a response from the professional meeting that my project had been rejected. I was devastated. How will my relief come now? There really was no foreseeable reason for me to attend the meeting. I cancelled my plans. I asked a friend to pray for me. As we customarily do when we pray for each other, this friend told me later on that when he prayed he felt like God gave him "45 days" for me. He counted out the 45 days and the 45th day was September 13. He told me that he believed that day would be significant for me--that something would happen on September 13 which would impact me in a big way. He also said that he didn't know that I would be aware of these events on September 13, but that later on someone would say "and 'this' happened on September 13" and then I would know that this was God moving something along for me.

So, I took down my paper chain.

This is number 2 in a series of stories about the events of the last year. If you would like to start at the beginning, go back and read about The Five Years. . . or go to the next one: Florida-phobia.

The Five Years

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Tue, 23 Jun 2020 10:42:00 +0000

There is so much to tell. I can barely believe all that has happened in the past year\nor that it all fit in such a short time. It's not an easy story to tell as there are little strings that connect between events sometimes separated by quite a bit of time. I'm going to try to tell it, though, in hopes that it will encourage the faith of any who read or hear of it. I'm not writing to explain myself or others to any naysayers or critics. There are, and will be, critics. I'm writing to encourage those who prayed alongside me. . . us, as a church family. . . and fill in any details that may have value in the retelling.

"The Light shines on in the darkness, and the darkness did not understand it or overpower it or appropriate it or absorb it [and is unreceptive to it]." John 1:6 (AMP)

This past weekend was the first weekend in several decades that The Highland Vineyard (THV) was not operating in any capacity, under any name. It was also the first weekend that The Rock Vineyard began operating in a new capacity. The stories of the past year culminate in those two statements, more or less. As there are many parts, I'll tell them one at a time, as best I can.

It's tough to know where exactly to start, but I'll start on July 8, 2019. I got a call from a colleague. She said, "Aaron, I just took a job in Sarasota, Florida. I want you to come with me." I was looking for a job change, and had been praying for relief at work for quite some time--several years, in fact. I enjoyed working with this friend of mine. I was sad to hear she would be leaving, however, I had very specific reasons for looking for a job change without a location change.

January 1, 2015 I officially took on the pastor role at THV. The first 6 months were perhaps the most difficult months of my life. In May, after only 5 months, I considered resigning due to a barage of criticism. I am eternally grateful for Duane, my mentor, pastor, and a father to me in many ways, and for the leading of the Spirit which Duane helped me discern. In the course of my ardent prayers in those first few months, I felt the Spirit of God impress on me a sense that there would be a difficult season ahead which would require steadfast commitment to seek wisdom from God and follow it without looking at outward signs of success.

This revelation came on the heels of a decision I had made to begin counting attendees at church, seeking feedback from visitors, etc. I just felt something very dark about that decision, which on the surface seemed so sensible. I felt very strongly that God was offering a revelation of the timeline. I told Mrs. O. that I believed we were in a season that would last five years. My job would be to seek wisdom from God and do my best to follow it, and there was a very distinct impression that I was not to complain about how it was going, and God would give me what I needed as I followed.

These revelatory thoughts and impressions came amidst words and prayers from family and friends who knew nothing of the thoughts inside my head. I got several words of encouragement that I needed to trust God and I would go through a season of "flying blind" and that we were "building roots." I got words during my prayer time about "plowing the ground" and removing the rocks--preparing the soil. I also remember a prayer time when God prompted me to remember and consider the experience we had at a previous church where we watched a transformation over the course of five years. I didn't hear any voices, but if I put words to the distinct impression I got as I prayed about resigning from this new position, those words would be,

"This is a five-year job."

So, on July 8, 2019 when I got the phone call about Sarasota, I politely thanked my friend for the call and told her I would talk to my wife. Mrs. O. responded, "how does this fit with your timeline?" referring to the five years.

"I know," I said, "it's just not the right time."

Knowing how life works out in unexpected ways, we prayed about it anyway, but after a short consideration, I declined to apply. I didn't ask about the timeline for Sarasota. . . didn't even think of it. I was sure one of the other opportunities currently in front of me would turn out to be the right one. In any case, I had an appointment with God at midnight on December 31, 2019. I was going to stay up until midnight and pray, telling Him how things had been going, and asking about the next season.

It would be the end of the five years.

This is one in a series of stories about the events of the last year. If you want, go to the next one: Broken Chains.

The Awakening

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Sun, 12 Apr 2020 19:46:00 +0000

It was the summer following my freshman year of college, way back in the 1900's, as my boys would say. I was living in Boston and attending Northeastern University as a criminal justice major. I was attracted to NU for their coop program, but not for their location! I am from the country a little farther north, and I was not happy with big city living.

I was also at a place in life where things were changing internally. My parents had divorced only a couple of years earlier, which prompted me to begin asking some questions.

Big questions.

I had grown up in church. I would like to say I was full of faith, but in retrospect, I was full of religion and somewhat unfamiliar with faith. The big questions I began to ask and the answers I found prompted me to distance myself from the religion which had become so familiar. I was unable to separate my faith from my religion at that point, so I packed God in a box and left him to collect dust in the attic of my soul with all the other stuff I didn't need anymore.

I was working at my first coop job as a criminal justice major. I was a security guard at a local hospital. It is not my favorite of my work experiences. It's not now, and it wasn't then! Life was expensive, even at my low standard of living as a student. At my regular rate of pay, I was not going to be able to make my housing payment for the quarter and I needed a plan.

Maybe this is the right moment to say how significant desperation has been in my life. It has really worked to my advantage in many ways. My moments of desperation have been some of the most difficult, most transformative, and oddly, some of the most encouraging moments of my life.

Desperation led to an awakening I didn't realize I was longing to experience.

This was one of those very difficult, transformative, and encouraging moments--maybe I should say seasons instead of moments.

It didn't happen all at once.

In any case, I prayed an emergency prayer, in case there really was a God and he could hear me from the attic . . . in case he really had a plan. After all, if there really was a God with a plan, being his plan it was likely a good one. I prayed one of the most significant prayers of my life, though I had no idea how significant it would turn out to be.

I don't remember my exact words, but it went something like this,

"God, if you are there and if you have a plan, I want to know what it is, and I'll go along with it."

This would turn out to be one of the most significant things I have ever done.

In my head, I was using a little bit of reverse psychology, because I was convinced God's plan would involve me going back up north to the country where I wanted to be. I was sure God would not want me to stay in the city being so expensive and such, but as silly as it sounds, I didn't want to bias his opinion, so I just kept that little secret to myself.

I knew diligence was virtuous, so I worked hard. I had myself convinced that when I worked hard and still could not pay for my rent, this would be the sign I was seeking that it was time to go home. I knew just how this was going to go. So, I worked. I took all the extra hours I could at this security job. I worked weekends, the midnight shift, and a double shift on the fourth of July earning the extra hourly rate for taking these less than desirable shifts. I increased my earnings a lot and didn't have any time to spend any of it. I would sometimes get up before it was light and work through the day and return in the dark just before the train stopped running.

Somewhere toward the end of July it was time for me to pay my bill. I wasn't going to have enough. I had been putting money toward the housing bill all summer and I took my paycheck following the fourth of July holiday. I had even called the office and asked them to extend the deadline until payday, which they did. But even with the extra paycheck I was going to be short. When I got my paycheck, I was discouraged to find it was less than I had thought it should be. I had not received the extra holiday pay for the fourth of July because it was on a Saturday and the hospital observed the holiday on Friday--a day I had not worked. I was devastated. I mean, I KNEW it was going to go this way, but I was still disappointed. In total, I was nearly $500 short.

My planning and diligence had failed.

However, when I went to my PO Box to pick up the mail, I had a surprise waiting for me. I had a letter from an attorney in my hometown. He was the trustee of a scholarship I had received the year before. He told me no one had applied for the scholarship that year. The scholarship was supposed to be for first-year students, but he hated to think no one would use it. He sent it to me. The check was $500.

When I went to the housing office to pay my bill, I had enough to cover my bill with $9.27 left over. With my school meal plan and my rent being paid, I didn't have much extra but, I had everything I needed. This was the first time I began to separate my faith from my religion. It was the first time I dared to believe

God had a plan, and it was a good one.

Going with the Flow

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Sun, 05 Apr 2020 19:42:00 +0000

Rolling with the punches has never come easily for me. I'm more naturally a planner. An analyzer. I like spreadsheets. I like data. I don't like to rely on feeling, and I don't like to change the plan.

I remember the first time I realized how lucky I am to have Kelly on my team. We were just a family of three at that time. We were flying somewhere and little E was very small. One of our flights was cancelled by the time we go to our connecting airport and we were stuck. We had a good plan. We had chosen our flights around nap time and lunch time and all the other times that are of critical importance in the life of a toddler. I was devastated to see my good plan swirling around the drain.

I told Kelly the news and I braced for her face to fall. Except it didn't. Her face lit up and she said,

"Oh good! Now we have time for frozen yogurt!"

There are so many things about life that look like unnecessary and inconvenient diversions to me at first glance. This was perhaps the first time I realized planning was not the only thing that mattered. I realized God was trying to teach me how to put my plan aside and go with the flow. I began to see that in unexpected twists and turns you can find opportunities if you know where and how to look. More and more, I find life is made of twists and turns and sometimes "diversions" are more necessary than they first appear.

This past summer, I found myself working at an office about 70 miles from my home. With no interstates close by it took me about an hour and a half to wind along the hilly country road to work. I made the trip twice a week most weeks, I did as much work from home as I could, and the rest of my week was occupied by work closer to home.

One afternoon I found my work delayed waiting on others to complete their portions before I could continue. With a 90-minute drive ahead of me I didn't love the idea of sitting around for a few more hours with nothing to do before completing my work and driving home. My colleagues and manager were very accommodating and I easily got permission to head home early and work remotely in the evening when the work was ready for me. I headed home before 3 pm.

Part of the way home, I wondered if I had made a poor choice in leaving so early. Was I being irresponsible? I had made a habit of calling my grandmother on the ride home, but this was an unusual time for the trip and I didn't get her. I filled the time praying about my day and whether I had fouled everything up.

Most of the way home, I came to the spot where I could see the beltway around the city up ahead, and I saw a fire engine crossing on the overpass above just as I approached the ramp. Selfishly, I hoped the engine was not an indication of trouble on my route. The fire truck came down the exit just as I slowed to the ramp and in the nick of time I turned up the ramp as it pulled up just behind me. On the ramp I passed several motorcycles, one turned on its side, rider laying flat on the ground. It appeared the bike had come off the beltway through a guardrail, passed through the grassy area, crossed the ramp and crashed.

It occurred to me that if I had come through only moments later I would be stuck in the traffic I could now see off to my left as I entered the beltway and continued home without delay. I had one of those moments when it seems God downloads something to my understanding just as though he were sitting next to me. I don't hear any voice or words or anything like that. It's more of a gut feeling, but if I put words to the gut feeling, it would go something like this, "I'm coordinating things around you, not only for your safety, but also for your convenience."

In the months since that time I have changed jobs, we have been in the middle of a significant transition at church, and we have watched a virus envelope the earth. In all of it, there have been so many experiences that baffle the mind with their synchrony. I am convinced, more than ever, that God is always working to bring good from the chaos.

Until next time . . .

An Oreo Slave

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Fri, 11 Oct 2013 10:42:00 +0000

I love Oreos.

The Double Stuf Oreos.

I love the original ones, but I also love the mint-filled ones. This summer I found some with berry flavored filling which was also good. . . I mean, you can't go wrong.

Every time I buy Oreos, they own me.

I bring them home. I open the package. . . they've made it even easier to open. I have one or two. . . hands full. I feel slightly satisfied, and I proceed to put them away and think about the next time I'll be able to have another one . . . or two!

I know they will own me when I buy them. There's a little thing in the back of my brain running the whole time I own a package of Oreos. That little thing has one function: to focus all it's energy on Oreos. The net result is that I eat the entire package in a very short time.

Since I know this about myself, and I tend to be somewhat systematic, I have devised a rule to protect me from my Oreo slavery. I buy Double Stuf Oreos in little sleeves. They come in sleeves of about a half dozen Oreos. Maybe more like eight to a package. This way, I can eat all of the Oreos in the sleeve in one sitting without hurting myself! This is better than having to eat a whole family pack of Oreos, eight at a time, over the course of one day!

Mrs O and I were talking the other day about church and Oreos. Churches are full of little rules like my rule about buying Oreos in sleeves instead of family packs. The trouble is, these rules are only methods of keeping on track with bigger purposes. I mean, my bigger purpose is avoiding a stomach ache, an extra five pounds. . . nothing wrong with eating Oreos. Nothing Holy about eight Oreos to a sitting as opposed to twelve. . . or six.

If I see someone in the grocery store buying a family pack of Oreos, I cannot assume they will have the same struggle I do. It is not necessarily the same for them. The other person may have no trouble rationing his Oreos. Perhaps, he has avoided buying bacon, or cheese for similar reasons. Perhaps food is not a problem at all.

I have to remember the main goal. Avoiding stomach aches and an extra five pounds. . . there is more than one method to achieve this goal. Even more important than five pounds would be a generally healthy lifestyle. If I put my Oreo sleeve rule ahead of the greater goal of a healthy lifestyle, the unfortunate possibility is an unhealthy lifestyle due to some other vice, and a lack of enjoyment of life for the lack of Oreos!

Hijacking The Good News

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Thu, 03 Oct 2013 10:23:00 +0000

Mrs O and I were talking about the church the other day. I mean, The Church as a whole, not any particular congregation. We were talking about how we really have a bad PR problem. People don't think of christians as rescuers, they think of us as oppressors. They don't see our love for each other, they see our rules for each other.

What happened?

Are we the victims of the rumor mill?

Have lots of people been badly misinformed?

Well, I don't think so. I think, in a lot of cases, our reputation is well deserved. I think history is repeating itself.

Galations 4:29 begins: "But you are now being persecuted by those who want you to keep the law. . ."

You know, when I read a story from the Bible, I always put myself in the position of one of the characters in the story. I assume to be one of those personalities and to have the task of acting like they did, or perhaps, as they should have acted.

Funny thing: I never put myself in the position of the Pharisees. I never assume I am acting like one of them. When I look at myself honestly, though, sometimes I do act like one of them. Sometimes, I look at today's church and wonder if we are really growing christians, or if we are actually growing Pharisees.

My analysis of the Pharisees concludes they were well-meaning, diligent, self-disciplined folk. Trouble is, they forgot who gave them their laws. God is the one who provided the law, but God came before the law. God had a plan and purposes before the law ever came to be.

God's purposes are higher than the law.

What are God's purposes? Well, the Bible says his purpose is to love. Feed the hungry. Clothe the naked. Defend the orphan and widow. The list goes on.

The law just gives me a picture of what holiness would look like, if holiness were humanly possible. But, strict adherence to the law without consideration of God's higher purposes, however, will result in failure. Every. Time.

Worse yet, is strict adherence to what I call guardrails. These are rules contrived by me or others in my family or church culture. Rules designed to keep me from violating the law. Going to church every Sunday, for example, is one of these guardrails. It's a good policy. It is supposed to encourage me to stay on the right road--toward God's purpose.

Sometimes, church feels like it gets in the way, though. It feels like I become beholden to the good rule of going to church more so than simply following God's law of keeping one day per week set apart for Him. Going to church starts to feel like the law, and I forget all about the direction church is supposed to be taking me. I feel as though I need to be in church every time the doors open. Sunday morning, Sunday night, Tuesday night, Wednesday night. . . no time left over for serving.

"Can't love you today, got to get to church and learn about how I am supposed to love you."

Hijacked.

The Good News is better than that. Now, if I took Sunday and spent all day serving the poor. . . would this be a fine way to keep one day per week set apart for God? Would this not be the most perfect form of a worship service?

The punch line is simply this: the church is failing if it is not encouraging people to find Jesus and serve Him by loving people in practical ways. If church gets to the point of preempting, precluding or preventing people from fulfilling God's purposes and demonstrating love, it has become worse than ineffective. It has become evil.

Isaiah 1:10-15

Bible Doing: Take Two

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Fri, 27 Sep 2013 11:57:00 +0000

Well, we've learned a couple of things over the past few months. We got a group together--six to ten people usually, including our family. We visited a nursing home and handed out some treats, we got to know each other, and talked quite a bit about great ideas for potential service opportunities.

We didn't get our hands very dirty, though. Organizing events is harder than it sounds. We are still going on Sundays to visit our friend at the nursing home, and our family loves it more and more each week.

Last Sunday, I and my boys filled Mrs. K's bird feeder. I love birds, so I figured I'd use this interest of mine to serve her. I really enjoy it, as silly as it may sound! On the way back around the building, Little S noticed another feeder was empty. We filled that one, too. Then two windows down, another empty feeder. We filled that one, too. Then, i heard a tap, tap, tapping. Through the glare on the window, I could just barely see a lady watching us. She pointed to her bird feeder. It looked full, so I was puzzled. I took it down from the tall iron hook and found the birdseed inside was moldy and all stuck together in an octagonal brick. As I pulled out the birdseed brick and broke it up, the lady inside clasped her hands with delight and smiled! We filled that one, too.

As we walked away, I heard another tapping. It was the same lady. She beckoned us back to her window so she could holler a thank you through the glass.

Total cost to us: $10 and 30 minutes

Total payoff: many smiles

This is addicting. On the way home, we discussed a membership we could cancel to free up a few dollars so we could buy more birdseed and fill ALL the feeders. If there is enough money left over, we might buy some plants to put in the empty planters on the patio. . . I love flowers, too.

It's not as hard as it originally seemed.

It's nothing really. . . Well, no. It's not nothing. It's a pleasure!

Bible Doing

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Thu, 17 Jan 2013 12:08:00 +0000

Mrs O and I are excited about February 3. What a kickoff this is going to be. . . and I'm not talking about professional sports! On Super Bowl Sunday we're kicking off a new community group for our church, and it's going to have a bit of a different focus.

Well, it's not so much the focus that will be different, but the format. Every group we've ever attended, including one that we hosted for three years in Maine, was focused on group discussion. We would meet and study. . . some would call it a Bible Study. We also had a focus on building community between members, so it had a major social component as well.

Some time ago, I began to think a little bit differently about church. You can read some background here in a post called "Getting out of church!" Basically, I began to feel like I was just talking and not doing anything about all the stuff I was talking about. I was feeling like my week was so full of church events that I didn't have time for anyone outside of my church. I didn't know how to justify or reconcile my schedule with what I was reading in the Bible.

Then I read some stuff: Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller, Crazy Love by Francis Chan, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller, Soul Cravings by Erwin McManus, and Love Does by Bob Goff. All of these books increased my sense that something about my priorities had gone awry.

So, as suggested by Bob Goff in Love Does, we're starting a Bible Doing. We're getting folk together with the intention of serving our community on a regular basis. These opportunities to serve will take the place of some of our discussions. Our discussions will then be focused on new opportunities and the experiences we have serving.

We're going to start by looking for some 'plug and play' service opportunities where we don't have to re-invent the wheel, but rather plug into organizations that are already going. We're going to focus on the passions and talents of the group members. We're going to turn everyday life into a mission trip!

We're not pros yet, but practice makes perfect!

"'He defended the cause of the poor and needy, and so all went well. Is that not what it means to know me?' declares the Lord." Jeremiah 22:10 NIV

Don't Cry 'Uncle.'

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Sun, 30 Dec 2012 12:34:00 +0000

Lately, I've been thinking about some of the more significant stories of my growing up. There are always people speaking different things over us and our lives. This is another story like the 'Barn Floor' where I got some encouragement. My uncle was the source on this particular occasion.

My uncle has a farm just next door to my Grandfather's farm. My dad and I went one day to help chop some wood in the back corner of one of the fields. After cutting and chopping, we loaded the wood into the trailer and pulled it back to the barn with the tractor.

When we got ready to load the trailer, my uncle told me to climb up in the driver's seat. I was not very good at backing up a trailer. This may have even been the first time I had ever tried. I climbed up and backed up slowly. I turned the wheel the wrong way and the trailer jack-knifed off to the side. The tongue of the trailer was bound against the hitch and one of the bolts in the tongue snapped.

My uncle walked back to the barn to get another bolt while my dad and I kept cutting, splitting, and stacking. Uncle returned a short while later with a new bolt and some tools to make the repair. We replaced the bolt in short order and he told me to climb back up in the driver's seat and try again. I protested, lest I break another bolt. He persisted, and I climbed back up for another try.

I first pulled ahead to straighten the trailer and then began backing up slowly remembering that I needed to turn the wheel away from the intended direction of the trailer. I corrected this way, and that way as I went slowly backward craning my neck to keep track of my progress. It went well for a short time, but almost inevitably, I overcorrected and the trailer shot sideways and jack-knifed. Snap!

Back to the workshop for another bolt. We repeated this procedure a total of about 5 times. The thing that struck me that day was the single bolt that Uncle brought back from the barn each time. He only ever brought one. Each time, he believed that I might get it right this time. Each time he told me to climb back up in the driver's seat.

Each time he showed me that my past failures were not predictors of my potential for success.

May your failures of 2012 be transformed into the successes of 2013.

Note to self: Don't cry 'uncle.'

On Scrooge and the Grinch

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Sun, 23 Dec 2012 13:31:00 +0000

Every year, it seems that I hear someone saying they can't wait until the holidays are over. It starts at Thanksgiving with someone slaving for days to prepare the perfect feast for dozens of relatives. It ends with a paucity of thank yous and un-met expectations of gratitude for the food, the decorations, the hospitality. . . and the list goes on.

Then, we dive into Back Friday sales keeping our kids out 'til midnight so we can buy them twice as many presents if we get them all for 1/2 price. We hide the gifts, bribe the kids into good behavior with the promise of dreams coming true on Christmas morning. Then, we rush through the towers of gifts hardly having time to acknowledge one before moving on to the next. . . places to go, people to see and more gifts to unwrap.

Six weeks of greed can be exhausting. Agreed? It's enough to turn the most ambitious among us into Scrooges and Grinches.

By New Year's we're laden with guilt after our binge and ready to make restitution with diets and budget cuts and promises that next year will be different.

I can't help but think, "Maybe we're doing it wrong."

The other night we were scheduled to go to a nursing home and sing Christmas carols. On the way there, Mrs O and I had a disagreement. . . actually, it was just a 'heated agreement!' We both agreed that I was being a jerk. There wasn't any disagreement about it! Things were feeling pretty ugly going into that nursing home and I had all I could do to begin singing.

Then I started singing.

I saw the elderly folk smiling as we performed our amateurish caroling. I spoke with a World War II veteran who was delighted to have someone who would listen to his stories. I also met one lady with a strange looking eye. I don't know if it was glass or if she had cataracts, but it induced a sense of hesitation to say the least. At the end of the caroling, my two boys ran up to her and wrapped their arms around her. They wished her a Merry Christmas.

She said, "That was the best Christmas gift ever!"

I left the nursing home that night feeling quite differently than I had upon arriving. It's not really that surprising when I think about it. Changing the focus of my actions changed the focus of my thinking.

We can do the same thing with our Christmas traditions. If you are having trouble with the hustle and bustle of the holidays, try changing the focus of your actions. If your family is less than grateful for your efforts, put that effort toward an outwardly focused cause.

Invite your ungrateful family members to join you in serving the homeless on Christmas Eve.

Invite some friends to visit an orphanage Christmas morning with a basket of trinkets from the dollar store.

Instead of taking up a seat at your church's Christmas Eve service, volunteer to greet people at the door, decorate, or serve up the snacks.

Changing your focus changes your life. In fact, it's life inducing, because these are the things life is made of.

Merry Christmas!

9 days left. . .

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Sun, 16 Dec 2012 12:57:00 +0000

Are you a gift-buying procrastinator? Are you trying to find the perfect gift for the neighbor you don't know all that well? What about gift-giving etiquette for the workplace? Have a co-worker that celebrates a different holiday?

Well, Mrs O came across a great resource for give giving and I thought I'd share it. It's called Cool Mom Picks. They list all sorts of ideas for all sorts of people and they break down their suggestions by price range. From DIY homemade gift ideas to gifts that give back by supporting African women or literacy initiatives, there are tons of great ideas.

Let this be your springboard!

If the above link doesn't work for whatever reason, here's the URL you can paste into the address bar of your web browser:

http://www.coolmompicks.com/holidaygiftguide/

Also, for the gent who has trouble finding the perfect gift for his lady, don't forget to take advantage of things like pinterest and facebook. If she likes it on facebook and pinterest, she might like it under the tree as well!

Merry Christmas!

A Touch of Whimsy

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Mon, 10 Dec 2012 03:16:00 +0000

My Grandpa is a man of little whimsy, but during the summer projects that I did with him, he would sometimes recite these silly rhymes. I'll remember them as long as I live.

I did a little looking around and it seems that these are rhymes that were popular in the '30s and '40s. There are many versions, but this is the way I remember it. It appears the author may be Asa Martin, a country/folk musician from Kentucky in the early 1900's. If anyone knows where they came from originally, I'd love to hear more about it!

"Twas midnight on the ocean,
Not a streetcar was in sight.
The sun was shining brightly
For it rained all day that night.

"One evening as the rising sun
Was setting in the West,
All the fishes in the trees
Were cuddled in their nests.

"On a summer's day one winter
As the rain was snowing fast,
A barefoot girl with shoes on
Stood sitting on the grass.

"The organ peeled potatoes.
Lard was rendered by the choir.
When the sexton rang the dishrag
Someone set the church on fire.

"'Holy Smoke!' the preacher yelled
As he madly tore his hair.
Now, his head resembles heaven
For there is no parting there."

The barn floor

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Tue, 04 Dec 2012 12:09:00 +0000

One of my fondest memories is working with my grandfather on some of the projects around his farm. I love telling this story to my boys. I don't know who enjoys it more, them or me!

I remember one summer working on replacing the barn floor. We first had to remove all of the equipment sitting on the old floor. Then we continued by pulling up the old rough hewn boards. Some of them weren't even nailed down and Grandpa slipped on one of the boards and fell through to the dirt floor, about 8 feet below.

I ran inside to get Grammie and fortunately, Grandpa wasn't hurt. We continued our job of replacing the boards. That summer, my cousin was working with us. He was only about four years old, but he had--and still has--a strong work ethic and enjoys manual labor.

When we got to the point of laying down the new floor on the old boards, we used 2x6 boards and 16d galvanized spikes. These are fairly thick boards and large nails. They're not easy to drive. One of us would start a nail for my cousin and while he tap-tap-tapped away, we'd work on a row of 2x6 boards. My cousin worked feverishly on his 16d spike. He missed more than he hit the head of the spike, but he succeeded. At the end of the day, his spike was fully driven.

My favorite part of the story, though, is what Grandpa said to me at the end of the day. He brought me over to review the day's work for our four-year-old partner. There, in the soft wood, were a large number of very small dents surrounding the 16d spike over about an 6 inch circle. With a grin, he said, "You used to do that!"

Why did I like that so much? Because in not so many words, he told me, "You have come a long way. You have what it takes." He was saying that he had believed in me back when a day's work was driving a single nail and hitting the wood more than hitting my target. He gave me the freedom to miss my mark, because I would eventually learn to hit the nail on the head.

Mrs O at the mic

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Fri, 30 Nov 2012 11:44:00 +0000

Mrs O and I were recently invited to participate in a sermon series at The Highland Vineyard Church in Louisville, Kentucky. We were delighted! It's not something we have a whole bunch of experience doing, but we have had a lot of fun. It has been a blessing to us and I pray that it was a blessing to everyone else as well.

I'm attaching the audio in a link in this post below. This is the last of three. You can listen to the audio for "The Myth that Everybody's Doing It" presented November 25 by Mrs O.

Happy December tomorrow!

The O's at the mic

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Wed, 28 Nov 2012 11:37:00 +0000

I'm attaching the audio in a link in this post below. This is the second of three. You can listen to the audio for "The Myth of the Greener Grass" presented November 18 by The O's.

In order not to inundate anyone with more than you can listen to at one time, later in the week I'll send along "The Myth that Everybody's Doing It" presented by Mrs O yesterday.

Me and the mic

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Mon, 26 Nov 2012 11:32:00 +0000

I'm attaching the audio in a link in this post below. I'm trying to figure out how to make a clip with our slides and everything, but I haven't figured out how to do that yet. When I figure that out, perhaps I'll post it on one of the other pages. In the meantime, you can listen to the audio for "The Myth of the Self Made Man" originally presented November 11 by me, Mr O.

In order not to inundate anyone with more than you can listen to at one time, later in the week I'll send along "The Myth of the Greener Grass" which we both presented on November 18 and "The Myth that Everybody's Doing It" presented by Mrs O yesterday.

The Porcupine Tree

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Mon, 05 Nov 2012 02:35:00 +0000

This is a story from my childhood that I tell to the boys sometimes before bed. It's one of their favorites.

A long time ago when I was little and I lived at Grammie Munchkin's old house up in New Hampshire there was a tree called the porcupine tree. We called it the porcupine tree because sometimes we would see a porcupine sitting up in the top at night.

We would come home sometimes in the dark after the sun went to bed. As the car came up the driveway, the headlights would shine in the backyard. Sometimes, there was a porcupine in the backyard and when he saw the lights, he would run as fast as he could--which was not very fast--over to this little hemlock tree. He would climb up the tree all the way to the tippity top to a place where there weren't many branches and we could see him sitting up there.

My brother also like to climb the porcupine tree. He would climb up to that same spot at the tippity top where there weren't many branches and look out. I had a favorite climbing tree which was not far away down the hill by the rope swing behind the brush pile toward the swamp. It was also a hemlock tree and I would climb near the top to a place where I could sit comfortably and look out and see my brother sitting up in the porcupine tree.

I would sometimes pretend that I was in a castle watchtower or some other place where it was my critical duty to guard the backyard from the evil that was trying to penetrate it. In reality, there was very little evil trying to penetrate our backyard, so that game didn't last long.

Truth be told, all the fun was in getting up to the top of our climbing trees and not in the fabricated drama. I was not made for drama. By the time I got to my sitting spot I'd had my fun and the game was all but over.

Many thanks

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Mon, 29 Oct 2012 02:29:00 +0000

Several months ago, we went on an extended family vacation. Aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, and of course, Grammie and Grandpa. We all stayed in a cabin in the Smoky Mountains. One of the favorite things about the week, according to my boys, was the game room--Pac Man, pool, juke box, giant TV, and more.

Since we have been home--over a month now--Little S has been consistently mentioning the 'vacation house' when he prays before we eat.

The funny thing is, he doesn't ask for another vacation.

He doesn't ask to live at the vacation house.

He doesn't ask for a game room at home.

He just says, "Thank you, for our vacation house."

I could learn a lot from that little guy.

Too many definitions

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Mon, 29 Oct 2012 01:13:00 +0000

In a book I read a while back, there was this central topic that just didn't sit right with me. It is a common idea, but I just think it's slightly off. At first, it might sound like semantics, but I think there's a greater truth at stake.

The book gave what it called the definition of a man. It listed things like character, integrity. . . you know, all that stuff.

Good stuff.

Great stuff.

I don't like it. You know why?

Because sometimes, I do those things.

Sometimes, I don't.

Do I cease to be a man if I tell a lie?

No.

I am a man.

Those things are just standards of behavior. They don't actually define me as a man.

Honesty doesn't define me to be a man. It defines me as honest, or dishonest.

Character doesn't define me to be a man. It describes the kind of man I am.

You only need one thing to be defined a man.

A 'Y' chromosome.

. . . some of you thought I was going to say something else, but you could actually cut that off and you would still be a man. You might walk funny, but that's another story.

Why do I think this is so important?

Because, I think it's critical to realize that there are some things I choose. There are also some things I don't get to choose about myself. I don't get to choose WHO I get to be. I get to choose HOW I get to be. I choose the actions I take and they determine where I am going.

You don't have to try to be a man. You either are or you aren't.

Be honest.

Be faithful.

Be kind.

Be compassionate.

Be passionate.

Be confident.

Be secure.

Be wise.

Be you.

Eight for eight

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. O.) — Sat, 20 Oct 2012 11:27:00 +0000

Eight years and counting. That's 2920 days, plus a couple of leap days and a couple of days since our actual anniversary this past week. I can't believe it's been that long. Doesn't seem like it could have possibly been more than 2500! I guess time really flies when you're having fun.

And, I AM having fun!

So, to celebrate our anniversary, here are 8 words that embody my favorite things about my Mrs O. . . with some short explanations. I can only be so concise, you know.

8. Security. Mrs O is equally at home enjoying a steak at Ruth's Chris or hush puppies at The Cracker Barrel.

7. Leisure. She enjoys all manner of British dramas, reading books, and lying in the hammock--everything's better together.

6. Thoughtfulness. She often comes home from the grocery store with stinky cheese for me!

5. Brains. She has an amazing vocabulary and insists that people who cuss only do so because they can't say it more intelligently.

4. Strength. Whether we're playing scrabble or debating miscellaneous issues we're equally matched--she poses a formidable challenge!

3. Equality. We're even more perfectly matched as teammates.

2. Beauty. She's beautiful, inside and out.

1. Whimsy. She is 100% herself--all the time, no matter what.

Thanks for saying 'yes,' Mrs O. I love you.