Then, after about a week, my shoulder started to really hurt. I thought it was from the exercise, and you know, I needed to “push through it!”  No pain no gain! Feel the burn!  I was feeling it alright. I could barely move my arm!

So I took a break, and it felt slightly better. I was ready to go again! Yes! At one point I did 90 pushups and 90 situps in one session. But then it started to hurt again, so bad. So much pain.

I couldn’t even do a set of pushups anymore. It felt like liquid fire spilling on my shoulder.

And then… I broke my toe!!

So now, my shoulder hurts so bad I can’t lift stuff over my head, I can barely turn the steering wheel, I can’t sleep on it, and in general it just is very bothersome. So I can’t do pushups, and because of my toe I can’t do anything else! No running, basketball, soccer, tennis, nothing!

Arg.

So I’m relegated to just sit ups. And I’m not enjoying that at all. I hate when stuff happens to my body that actually reminds me that I’m not quite 20 years old anymore. How could pushups hurt me so bad? How could I walk into a wall and BREAK MY TOE?

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?!?

Maybe I should just write more. I’ll prove that RSS feed right in the end!

I just read a wonderful blog post by my friend Jason Latshaw, and it inspired me for mine tonight! He was talking about how he handled a rude person with a “knowing look” and it got me to thinking about how I handle rude people (turns out not quite so gracefully as Jason).

For instance, I get really fired up when people do dangerous stuff around my kids. The other day we were in the parking lot of a kids toy store—a small one in Newark with a very small parking lot. The kids and I started from the store across the parking lot towards our car, when I heard a revving engine coming up the parking lot in our general direction. He was flying. I yelled for the kids to hop back on the curb, and they did—terrified.

Then the guy whipped into a parking spot. College kids. And they started to walk to main street. Well, I just couldn’t stand by and do nothing right? So I let them have it. I started “talking loudly” to them, letting them know this was a kids store for crying out loud! That they terrified my kids! What were they thinking! You really need to slow down!

They just kept walking. :)

Another time I was in blockbuster video (with  my kids . . . yikes, a pattern is occurring) and there was a huge line. There were at least 10 people in line. And then this guy walks right up to one of the counters. (Remember how they used to keep you waiting in line next to the snacks? And then you’d be asked to come forward to the counter like a bank teller?) Well he just circumvented the entire line process, and walked right up!

Well, someone had to help him out right? “Excuse me! I’m not sure if you noticed, but we are all waiting in line here.” You know, maybe he really hadn’t noticed! Or maybe he was the selfish jerk I thought he was. He just looked right back at us, shrugged, and kept going. Jerk.

I just can’t stand it when people are mean, when they think about only themselves and not others. Like (here’s another one!) the people who try to keep going when two lanes are merging—and they just try to pass all of us who are merging obediently, and get ahead as far as possible. How selfish!! Why is your time more important than mine?!

So you know what I do (Mandy loves this..)? I pull my car so its halfway in between the two lanes in an attempt to block them from going by! I hate it!! So unfair!

Well, that’s enough for tonight.  Trust me. There’s more…

Wow. Lost blew me away. For me, it was perfection. I just loved it. It left me, quite literally, weeping. In a good way.

I’m pretty sure I’ve written about what I’m going to write about tonight on an earlier post . . . and I’m pretty sure I’ll do it again. It just is a very real and poignant part of who I am. This last episode really hit me in the gut—and duh—I know that was the point.

We all have our lenses through which we view this kind of stuff, and the ones I look through are probably obvious:  I’m looking as a father. A father who has some children here with me, and a father who has lost several whom he breathlessly awaits a reunion with. I also watch as a husband, and one who still genuinely cherishes every moment with his wife. And I watch as a Christian, and one who is still deeply moved by the themes of heroic sacrifice, redemption, forgiveness, and love.

On all counts Lost got me.

It got me thinking tonight about Letting Go and Getting Back. I think a lot about heaven, and when I really let myself, I think about that powerful day when I will see Malachi and Hope again. I can picture them running to me. For some reason in my mind Malachi has blond hair that curls at the ends like Samuel’s did when he was little, and Hope has darker, straighter hair. When I let myself go there (which is not often) I can be overcome by the longing to be with them. It actually hurts me physically. And sometimes, sometimes, I feel like I can almost see them with my eyes closed…and touch them…

C.S. Lewis wrote often about longing. In one book Till We Have Faces he had characters who lived in the shadow of this wonderful mountain and longed to find their way there. I think it is inherent in humans to long for some “better” place.  I also think that some people look down on that kind of thinking as escapism or fatalism. For me, it’s not that I long to leave what is now, it is that I long for both. I really do long for now. Often after I weep with longing for my children in heaven, it will shift into weeping with longing for my kids who are here now.

As I was pulling myself together tonight I was talking to Mandy about how the rest of our lives are going to be about letting go. We will have to, at some point, let our parents go (which is an unbelievably painful thought), and raising our children is one moment of letting go after another, until they are grown and older and then we don’t get to see them very much. Not sure if anyone else deals with this, but all of that is hard for me.

Maybe it’s because I’m not great with change. Maybe it’s because I fear failure, and I deeply hope my kids grow up really well. Or maybe I just really, truly, deeply love the people in my life. I am so fortunate. I am so in love with Mandy and my kids, with my parents and my family and friends. I have such a deep and broad network of love and relationships. And what I loved about Lost is that that was the point – relationships. But that blessing is also a struggle. With much love comes much potential for pain. And I have seen this in bold expression the past few years of my life.  So maybe I sound a little pessimistic or something, but I really do long to make the most of every day with the people who are special to me, because I know that no days are guaranteed to us.

So my heart is heavy tonight. And I am longing. Longing to more fully realize and enjoy what I have now, and longing for the day when I can hold those sweet little hands that await me. And I am grateful to God that I will have the chance to do both.

First—I’ve always kind of relished the fact that I was, at least on some small level, still able to consider myself “invincible.” I mean, c’mon! Who goes 33 years without so much as breaking even a pinky toe!!!?? I wore my unbroken, unblemished, un-casted streak as a badge of honor. Now it is gone.  Forever.

Second—If you are going to break the first bone of your life, make it a good one right? I mean, maybe I don’t actually mean that. Because, I hate pain. So breaking your pinky toe is the way to go if you are a wuss like me. But for the story’s sake, at least break a bone that most people would consider important! Break one that people won’t mock you for going to the doctor about! (I already had two “man’s men” tell me this tale, almost exactly—”When I broke my toe (read this with a western drawl, its much better) I just taped it to my other toe and kept on a-workin’” (and then they spit on the ground in disgust at my sissy boot I’m sporting for 3-4 weeks).

Third—if you are going to break the first bone of your life, at least have a heroic story to tell about it! In my lifetime I’ve played many great amateur level sports games, climbed small rocks, forded 4 inch deep streams, hiked slightly rocky trails, climbed up the first two or even three branches of short trees, driven 5 mph over the speed limit on  my way to help someone . . . I  mean, the only thing separating me from Indiana Jones is a hat and a whip! But really, walking through the kitchen? Getting some cereal? I mean, that story doesn’t even rank as “manly” in my leather-cushion-office-chaired, ergonomically-crafted-computer-keyboards-so-I-don’t-hurt-my-fingers, only-buying-Hondas-because-they-are-so-safe, daredevil lifestyle.

So yeah, I broke my toe. My pinky toe. And, I am not ashamed to say, it actually hurts a surprising amount. Apparently that little guy was the one trusted to do the grocery shopping for a reason—he’s dependable. And when he goes down, the whole operation is in jeopardy. And yes, as I walked to my car from the doctor’s office with my fancy boot on, I wondered aloud, “How big of a wuss am I if I ask for crutches for a broken pinky toe.” The stunned silence of the universe was enough of an answer for me, as I grunted and labored towards the Honda Odyssey with power locks and power windows that awaited me…

Sad little toe:

Sad little sissy boot:

My kids make me laugh. They really do. It is so fun to watch them try out a sense of humor too. I mean, how do we learn what’s funny? Have you ever thought about that? The other day Elliot made fun of me, and it was actually funny! We were at Costco and Mandy had gone in ahead of us. When I pulled up to the entrance with our cart and Samuel, Elliot, and Mathea, I said, “My wife came in ahead of us, with a baby.” And when I said the “baby” part I made this motion with my hands like you would normally make when showing someone how big a fish you caught, you know? Like, that fish was THIS big!

Well we went inside and Elliot is smiling and laughing to himself, and he looks at me, puts his hands apart and says, “Daddy . . . a baby????” LOL I was laughing so hard! Now we have a little inside joke. It’s great.

And then we went shopping the other day for Mother’s Day and the kids wanted to get her sunglasses, so of course, we all tried some on. That’s where this pic comes from. I’ve got it on my phone now, because every time I see it I laugh. Literally. I just think it is SO funny.

And today, oh man this was classic, Mathea started to talk about her favorite show—”Tom and Jerry.” And she was telling me a story from the show and she said this, “So then the cat, Tomin, started to….”And I just started cracking up. I mean, it was so cute. All this time I have never noticed this, but she actually thinks the name of the show is not Tom AND Jerry, but simply Tomin—Jerry.  Like that’s there two names!! Tomin the Cat and Jerry the Mouse!!

And another slight misspeak she does is also very funny to me. My grandparents live with my parents now, and so my kids have a Grandma Barb and a Grandpa Joe. But Mathea struggles to keep the two separated. So she regularly calls my grandmother, Grandpa Barbe! Haha. I love that.

Then today, we were eating beans at the dinner table (yes, you can guess where this is going) and I decided it was high time to teach my kids the ol’ classic. “Beans, beans they’re good for your heart….” And through much laughter I told them another very important piece of sage-like wisdom—that some people say you can light your farts on fire!  (What has happened to my blog?? Is fart going to get tagged??)

Samuel can barely breathe he is laughing so hard. Then he puts this voice on, and acting like their Grandpa Charky (who is notorious for the aforementioned behavior) says, “Yeah, and if you did that, Grandpa Charky would come into the room and ask, ‘Hey, what’s cookin?’” Hahaha. For some reason I just thought that was so clever and funny. I loved it.

So yeah, my kids are funny. I love being around them and watching them learn the art of humor. And tonight, as we all sat around the table laughing so hard we could barely eat, I just thought to myself— “Man, this is so good and so special. I am blessed.”

Now samuel has a long and sad history of dentists. For some reason he has had tons of work done in his short little life. Today he is getting another filling (they say he has really soft teeth or something and so cavities come easy to him-or maybe it’s because we live in Elkton and they don’t let you brush your teeth there…) and the thing is he HATES shots. Of any kind.

His anxiety will start days in advance (so much fun as a parent let me tell you.) But the thing is, I can’t blame him! I hate it here too! You see as a kid I had tons of work as well. I had braces twice before I was 16! I had tons of problems, so I totally feel his pain. Even now as an adult it takes a lot of mental effort to not freak out as they start sticking sharp objects in my mouth. I just tense up and get so nervous.

So poor buddy. He had such a bad time of it last time that they asked him to come early and get some special “drowsy” medication. Last time we resorted to this as well and it seemed to help. But we have to come an hour early so it can take effect. Of course the dentist just came out and told me he gave him less then last time because he thinks this will be easier. What!?!? Why wasn’t I consulted!?!? Now I’m nervous too.

He is being really brave today though. I am so impressed with him. Just pray (if you read this in the next 20 minutes) that he has peace. I wish he didn’t have to do this. But I have promised him his choice of Ritas, Chic-fil-a milkshake, or Jakes milkshake after! So he has some incentive!

Haha. This is like a play by play …. He keeps leaning over to me and saying, “do I look drowsy yet?”. Haha. Poor guy. He’s so nervous…..

At dinner last night (to celebrate) we were talking about lots of stuff. When we were first married, I used to ask her on every anniversary, “What can I change? Are you really happy?” I think she thought this was funny, but humored me nonetheless. We never could come up with anything really big we wanted the other person to change.

Last night we were talking, and I said, “you know Mandy – we are so lucky (or blessed!).” I mean, there we were, 21 years YOUNG, trying to decide whom we’d spend the rest of our lives with! I honestly think that there are a good deal of married people out there who after 12 years look across the table with regret. They believe they could have “done better” or this person “doesn’t meet their needs.” Bull-oney. (That’s bologna by the way. I’ve got a great story about that too – I’ll have to blog about that tomorrow).

Anyway – that’s not the point I wanted to make. I looked at Mandy and I said, you know we really are lucky. I mean, after 12 years, and tons of amazing moments and tons of heartbreaking moments, we can honestly say that we genuinely like each other. I mean it! I know we love each other – and that’s awesome. But we like each other. We enjoy each other’s company. We love to talk to each other. We love to hang out and do stuff and go places together. We agree on most things. We see the world from pretty much the same way. It’s truly remarkable. I mean, what are the chances??

I was just blown away by realizing that we are still each other’s best friends. I love our jokes together, and how we can see right through each other. Its such a vulnerable and yet totally safe place to be. Amazing.

So I’m thankful. I’m not bragging really, just want to say praise God for this blessing. And in 12 more years I hope to feel all of this and more!

And Mand – if you are reading this – thank you for everything. You are such an amazing friend and wife. I am so excited to continue to share our lives together :)

Tonight was a night like that. It was a great night. Eden isn’t sleeping well, which in and of itself isn’t great but she ended up sleeping on my chest for a long while which is so far beyond “great” that they don’t even make words to describe it.

And then I stumbled upon The Devil Wears Prada. What’s funny about watching movies on TV is that you never see the whole thing. I missed about the first 30 minutes of this one. But, what’s funny about me is, I don’t seem to care. What I do care about it the commercials! UGH! But don’t worry—I’m being creative! I’m reading during commercial breaks!

Anyway, this movie totally sucked me in. I loved it. It was so good. It is one of those movies that is so engrossing, that afterwards you kind of feel like you are still watching it (or even still in it!). Have you ever felt that?

And it got me thinking. Movies often (always? Jason?) have the character go through some huge transformation. In this particular kind of movie (and there are many like this that I’ve seen) the main character is unassuming and humble to begin with. Then they try something new but swear it won’t change them (think Julie and Julia). But guess what? It does!! And never for the better! Always somehow along the way they lose “themselves.” Right? You know what I’m saying? And then the big ending is they finally walk away from whatever it was that attracted them away from themselves, and they go back to being unassuming.

So why is this? I mean I know it’s a story so it needs conflict and tension and change. But what’s the underlying message? Can we not aspire to try new things, soar to new heights, conquer new challenges—without losing ourself in the process? And what is “losing yourself” anyway? Can’t “yourself” change for the better without being “lost” and therefore necessarily having to be “found” and reverted back to?

Why can’t said character see a new challenge or opportunity and go for it, and change in good ways, without losing integrity? Is it that this is just too boring to make a good movie? Or does it betray some underlying truth that we are incapable of this? Does ambition, striving, and attainment necessarily strip of us the humility that once defined us so romantically?

Just a lot of questions tonight aren’t I? Got any answers out there?

When I was given the assignment of teaching Acts 3 where Peter and John healed a lame beggar outside the temple, I knew right away that God had something different to teach me about this. My natural inclination on this topic would have been to preach on the need to look for divine opportunities in our lives to pray for people in supernatural ways.

This time, however, I immediately was flooded with thoughts of the person (or most likely persons!) who sits there listening to me thinking, “Well that’s Christian. There he goes again talking about stuff that he’s comfortable doing, but it just isn’t relevant for my life.” I really felt like I was supposed to tackle the question, “How does this miraculous prayer stuff actually work today? Is it even supposed to work?”

As I spent time reading, studying, praying, and meditating on the text, something began to change in my heart. It really did. And what’s weird for me is most often these changes happen quickly. It’s like a lightbulb, or a flash of revelation. And I just had an insight into my life that I am not motivated by the right things in this area of life. When I talk about going into public and talking to people about Jesus, praying for your neighbors, praying for sick people, giving people words of knowledge that God may put on your heart—I’m talking about looking for results. My motivation was results based ministry. I was looking for a healing, a word, a salvation.

What changed in me was the realization that Jesus did not do ministry this way. Or more to the point, Jesus did not live his life this way. Because that’s what we’re talking about. I feel like it’s so easy to write off much of what the Bible demonstrates and teaches as just stuff for the “professionals” like missionaries and pastors. But that’s not at all how it is supposed to be.

And so, when I looked at Jesus, it became so evident that he did not live his life from a results orientation but rather from a love orientation. He (and his disciples) did not go up to a person on the street and pray for them to get healed because they wanted the result. No. I believe first, Jesus loved. There’s a great verse that says that Jesus looked at this crowd of thousands of people and he just loved them. I picture him looking from face to face, and seeing them each as real people not just objects you happen to run into as you go through your life. He saw their individual stories, their pain, their hopes, and his heart went out to them. And it was out of that place of love that he was moved by compassion to go towards them and interact with them.

Isn’t that different than how we often view it for ourselves? Isn’t it better and even liberating?

I feel like in my life I’ve gotten so used to the routine of life that I’ve stopped really being concerned for others, seeing them as children of God who are in need of his love, seeing through their facades of “I’m doing fine” and caring enough to dig deeper and look further. And see, when we care enough to do that, then out of that context of love, is where I believe miracles are born. It’s not about results. It’s about people whom God loves.

Today I had a normal interaction with a friend of mine. She told me of her son’s continued illness, and my heart just went out to them. We talked in the morning, and then in the evening our family ran into them while we were out. I asked about him again, and she shared more. I was (and am still) very genuinely concerned for this boy. I love this family, and I felt God’s love for them. I felt their frustration. I connected with their pain at watching their son suffer. I was actually human for a second, instead of this machine that just has to go from one thing to the next. I saw this family as people with stories and lives rather than objects that I just bump into through the course of the day.

And so the thought came, very naturally, let’s pray for this boy. And so we did. And it was wonderful. And it was love. And I feel like something has (or is) changing in my heart about all this. And I just started five (now six!) sentences in a row with “and.” And I remember a day when my friend told me that my teachers were wrong, and it’s ok to start sentences with “and.” And now “and” has lost all meaning!

So anyway . . . sigh . . . I’m happy about this teaching. I’m happy about my heart changing. And maybe, in the midst of everything that swirls around me that I call “life” I’ll begin to find love again in my heart for others.

The pain is what scares me away, but the pain is also what commands me to keep going (and I know Mandy feels the exact same way). The very thing that makes me want to throw this book on a shelf and forget about it forever, is the reason I (we) must finish it. Even if it takes 10 years (which it won’t) we have to finish it.

It is inspired by and written for two beautiful and precious children. I think a lot about their legacies. Much of their legacy lies within me I believe. I have been forever changed because of them. And it lies within Mandy. And our families and friends. So many people have been effected so profoundly by their tiny little lives.

But I really do care about their legacies. I want their stories to continue to make an impact in this world. So much of this world seems meaningless, randomn, and cruel. That is not the story I will allow for these two.

No.

I want people to know of a greater purpose above the tragedy, a greater love above the pain, and a greater order above the confusion. I owe it to them. I really feel I do. I don’t know if people would say that’s “healthy” or not, but I feel as their daddy that this is part of how I can and will love them. I am not content to just allow them to become part of my past. I want them to be part of my present at all times. Not in a way that messes up my present by making me depressed, past-focused, and out of touch with life. But in a way that enhances my present by keeping me in touch with them and with heaven.

And this is why I  must keep moving on this book, no matter how painful—because their stories must be heard.

I’m excited because I’m starting to get into the flow of working on Mandy’s book again. She is getting close to being done writing new content (unless I assign her another chapter or two to close it out). And I’ve already been through it twice editing it and putting it together. I just typed up a closing chapter which she hand wrote (thanks a lot Mandy!) and now I’m inputting edits that she has made (I printed a copy out for her so she could read the whole thing through and make edits).

Next I need to do a more “overview” edit. Like, does this part really come after this part and before that part? And I also want to add some subtitles and stuff. I’m excited about it though. I feel like its a very honest and genuine discussion of Mandy’s journey over the past 3 1/2 years. I actually looked up the definition of a Memoir because I’ve been thinking that this is kind of what Mandy has created.

Here is wikipedia on “memoirs:”

As a literary genre, a memoir (from the French: mémoire from the Latin memoria, meaning “memory”, or a reminiscence), forms a subclass of autobiography. . . Memoirs are structured differently from formal autobiographies which tend to encompass the writer’s entire life span, focusing on the development of his/her personality. The chronological scope of memoir is determined by the work’s context and is therefore more focused and flexible than the traditional arc of birth to childhood to old age as found in an autobiography.

I think this is a pretty accurate description of what Mandy has done. At first I struggled to understand how to describe her work, because it is very different than the way that I write. But then when I started to think about it in this light, it made so much sense to me. I’m not sure if “memoir” will make it into the title, but I think it’s a good framework through which to view it while editing it and making sure it flows.

I’m excited for people to read it because Mandy really lets people in to the scary and dark places that she traveled during the days, months, and years following the deaths of Malachi and Hope. The book reads in a really unique way too, because it was written almost in real time. The first third of the book was written between Malachi and Hope. Then, chronologically, there is a huge pause. And then the writing starts up again, several months after losing Hope. It ends with us finally deciding to try again.

There are parts that I have read eight or nine times, and still they make me cry everytime. It is a powerful and honest journey into her heart, and I can’t wait until we finish it.

Anyway, that’s what I was working on tonight, and I’m excited for it!

I can remember the first night we brought Samuel home, 9 years ago. Mandy gave birth to him at the birth center, where they really like to play practical jokes on you. Like the one where they don’t give you any drugs and tell you that’s better! Or the one where they say that tennis balls and a special chair will help with the pain? Or the one where they say that you can go home only 4 hours after the baby is born! WHAT?!?

(OK, so quick aside: I actually loved our experience at the birth center.  I really did. The people there are amazing. Wonderful people. And I will always cherish our memories there. But with Eden we did it the old fashioned way—we got an epidural. And, well, let’s just say I loved it.)

I’m 21 years old, never held a newborn in my life (ok maybe once, literally!) and we take this kid HOME! All by ourselves! I remember turning to Mandy as we got ready to go to bed and saying, “You know, it’s crazy they just trust us with this baby. They should really send a nurse home with you!” (Turns out they do have special programs just like that—it’s called staying at the hospital!)

That night, I woke up for no reason. (This was my first discovery of a new gift I had acquired—the ability to wake up at the slightest variation in my child’s breathing. No idea how I got this gift, but I still have it.) I turned to Samuel, and noticed he was not breathing well. So guess where we went….that’s right…a hospital! We spent the first whole night at AI Dupont hospital for children. Poor guy.

Now we are 9 year veterans of having several kids, and I had a discussion with Mandy tonight about some issues they are facing and I was thinking, “Somebody should know the answers to these questions!” I mean really—in some ways I feel just as lost as I did that first night. It feels like my every decision and action and word has the potential to make or break these precious little people. I know on the grand scale we provide a loving, supportive environment, and blah blah blah…but I feel the pressure!

I have to trust God that He is leading us, and that when we mess up (every day) He has grace for them, but sometimes facing the challenges that they have, and the decisions that feel so important right now, can get a little overwhelming. You know what I mean? Each of our kids are so unique and wonderful, but at the same time so difficult to really figure out. I guess what I’m saying is I’m just feeling a lack of understanding for how to best lead them and shepherd them. I’m trusting God that it will come, but I definitely have a holy fear about our mandate as parents. And you know what?  I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.

A couple nights ago, Mathea was praying with Mandy before she went to bed. Mathea has a list of people (an every growing list) that she prays for every single night (and often before dinner too!!). This night she decided to add our friends Nathan and Shannon. As she was praying to God for them, she kind of paused and made an aside comment to God—”You know Shannon, right?” Hahahaha.  Hey God? You know my friend, right? I mean I know you are God and all, but I just wanted to check!

Second story—Mathea again :) Today Mathea was spinning around this 10 inch rubber “hose” from a fire truck toy that belongs to Samuel. This hose quickly became a weapon in my house (like 10 minutes after he opened the present) and so using the hose in this manner was not at all surprising. Her choice of victim, though, was. “Daddy—I could kill Satan with this!” Oh my gosh, WHAT?!?! “I mean, maybe not kill him, but I could hurt him real bad!” Yes. Somewhere in heaven, Jesus take note! No need for a lake of fire or eternal damnation, just use the toy rubber hose!!

OK, now on to my favorite of all. Last night we took the kids out for Rita’s after dinner. On the way home, as we drove in to our neighborhood, an animal scurried in front of our van. Now, mind you it was dusk. Not well lit at all. Now, this animal had a small white body with dark fur on its face and feet and tail. And Elliot…oh man…I wish I could recreate the moment for you, because it was unbelievable. Elliot, in all seriousness, says—”IS THAT A MONKEY??” No way. I could barely drive. A monkey?!?! A MONKEY!?!?!?!!?

It was so cute, because as soon as he said it, he knew there was no way. But it was just so great. We laughed together for so long. And then Mandy hits me on the shoulder—”Well, he is your son, FOX BOY!”

And that leads to yet another story. Have you heard it already? I’m sure you have. But its great. Probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever said (except that one time I went to a funeral and asked the person, “How are you doing?” Dumb Christian, dumb.)

Anyway, we were walking on the beach a couple years ago, and this guy came up walking his husky. I love these dogs, they are so cool looking. Their eyes are see through! So I wanted to say something to this guy. In the moment, though, I couldn’t remember what this dog was called. Sometimes, to be honest, I get these dogs mixed up with wolves. I think wolves are very similar in fact.

But of course I didn’t say wolf, now did I? Nope. I said this:

“Hey! Is that your fox?”

“Um, no. It’s a DOG.”

Oh yeah. Thanks man. I have a hard time telling the difference between foxes and dogs. Thanks for setting me straight. And yeah, my kid struggles with cats and monkeys too. Kind of a strange family trait.

So there you have it. Enjoy!

I did something last week that I’ve never done before. And I’m proud of it. And I think it was the right thing to do. Although . . . I honestly never thought I would be the person to do this (just tell us already!).

Here’s the sitch (is that how the cool kids are saying it?)—Samuel and Elliot are both on a “travel” soccer team. Which basically means that they had to try out to make this team, and it is supposed to consist of the best 8&9 year olds in the club. They are both very good little players.

In the last few games of the fall season (and now in the first few scrimmages of this spring season) Mandy and I began to notice a trend. Samuel was getting less and less playing time. Like, a lot less.

What’s crazy is I have been a coach many times at many levels, and I have had this talk with parents on occasion. It is a difficult balance of trying to be fair, trying to allow kids a chance to play, and trying to create the best opportunities for the team to win.

(I can remember one time as a 19 yr old coaching a JV team for my old highschool this mom came up to me so upset about her son’s playing time. I can’t remember what I said, but it didn’t help. She demanded to talk to my “boss” the AD. We did. He backed me up. But I wonder what the 33 year old me who now has his own kids, would have said. I would have probably handled it much better.)

So anyway, too make this story short—Mandy and I were getting increasingly concerned. That’s the word I’ll use.

I decided it was time to act. What’s interesting is I actually really really like their coach. Great guy. Great coach. Very reasonable. And he and I have begun to have a kind of friendship as well.

But we decided it was time to address this. So I wrote an email. This was SO hard for me. You see, not many people know this (HAHAHA) but I am a HUGE people pleaser (OK – that sounds strange. It’s not that I like to please HUGE people, LOL, but you know what I mean). I really really want EVERYONE to like me. All the time. Whenever something happens that may interfere with that, it becomes very difficult for me. I get all crazy feeling on the inside.

This was definitely a challenge.

What was even stranger is that after I wrote the email and worked and reworked it—I finally agonizingly hit SEND. And my cable went out! And it didn’t come back on until like 4 hours later! And my email literally disappeared. It’s nowhere!!

So I had to write another one…

I finally bit the bullet and did it. And the coach got it 20 minutes before their game this past Sunday. Ouch. I feel kind of bad about that. But he was absolutely great about it. Just great. We addressed some issues. He had some misunderstandings about Samuel that I think I was able to shed some light on, and he was very open to re-looking at stuff.

Samuel played much more (and I don’t even feel a little guilty about that) and he actually played fantastic. They lost a heartbreaking loss, 4-3 with the last goal being scored with no time left. But he came bounding over to me SO happy after the game (a little unusual for him after a loss), and I know it was because he got to play. Really PLAY! I was, and am, so happy for him.

Then at practice the coach took time to personally work with him one-on-one on some areas that I think in the coach’s mind are holding Samuel back. Great.

So that’s it. I am so happy I actually did it. I am not a parent who is delusional about my kids’ greatness. I know where Samuel lines up with the other kids. But I also know he deserves a chance to play and grow. And I also know that a good coach unlocks potential. AND 9 years old is WAY to young to shut that potential down.

I felt like I did a good dad thing. And I’m so happy for Samuel. (But I sure hope I don’t have to do it again anytime soon!)

Now, this isn’t all the time, just at night. Here’s the deal.  For years (like 10) I would work a full time job during the day, and then at night I would work another 15-30 hours a week doing design work. I regularly stayed up until 2 or 3 in the morning, and then woke up early with little kids, and then off to work. And it was great.

In the last year or so the design work has stopped. So too, has my need to work very much at night.

Now add onto that some other factors. Over the past few years I’ve weathered some pretty demanding and intense personal storms. The kind that suck the life out of you. The kind that leave you exhausted at night—in fact, all day. I’ve been told during these times that I need to be OK with letting myself rest at night. That I’m emotionally wasted, and it’s OK to not work all the time. So I’ve tried to learn how to rest. How to relax.

Fast forward to the present. Now, at night, after the kids are asleep, I can’t seem to get off the couch. It’s not like I go to bed early or anything to get “rest.” I just watch TV. I have stuff I want to be doing. I want to work on Mandy’s book. I want to write a new book of my own (I’ve got a list of books ideas!). I think I want to try and learn coding for iPhone apps.

But I can’t bring myself to do anything. I mean, it’s not like I don’t work. I do. I work for the church full time. And this work has me out until 10 or 11 at night, three times per week. So part of me feels justified, like I deserve to just relax and watch TV when I can.

But it’s really starting to bother me for some reason. Every day I just think about how I wish I would have worked on a project the night before, but then when night comes, I just lose all motivation to anything. I don’t check my email. I often put off blogging. I can barely get off the couch.

Strange huh?

What’s really weird is I’m good at this kind of thing. Make a small goal. Do it. Make a bigger one. Start small and take little steps. So I’m trying to get going here. I feel like maybe I’ve learned a behavior here. Over the past few years I have needed this down time to process all that has hit me, but maybe my body is trying to tell me it’s ready to try a little more now. I’m not sure. It’s a little confusing, and a lot frustrating.

So I decided to blog about it. Maybe you can pray for me. Maybe you have words of wisdom. Maybe you’ve been through this before?

Not sure, but I think at least it helps to get it out in writing. I’ll keep you posted :)

In 2001, when Samuel was 1 year old.

In 2001, when I was still in my mid twenties, instead of my early thirties.

In 2001, when I weighed 20 (ok, maybe 30) pounds less.

Yes, I can still remember when the first season of 24 came on. I was so excited. I knew, from the first trailer I saw, that I would love this show. The first season came, and went. I only got to watch tiny pieces of episodes because we had a little baby named Samuel who liked to cry a lot. And we didn’t have Tivo (gasp!).

So I missed the whole first season. That Christmas is when my journey with Jack Bauer began.

My parents bought me Season 1 on DVD. I watched the whole season in a week. I continued this trend for several years, until one year I decided to catch up to “real time” (pun intended). So I watched the previous season, and then sat right down and started on the current season.

Now here we are, the final season of 24. And I’m still hooked.

And you know, over the years I’ve watched other fans come and go. But only me and my dad have remained faithful…till the end. Even if it is a slightly predictable, overdone, melo-dramatic end.

And you see, here’s the funny part of this whole thing—I see all the flaws that everyone else sees in 24!  I see the lines that Jack has uttered a million times (“We haven’t got much time!”; “This is our only chance!”; “We’ve got to move now!.“; “Tell me what you know! . . .  TELL ME!!!!!”; “I only take orders from the President.”—Shall I continue? Trust me. I could.) I see the only slightly revised plot lines from year to year. In fact, here are the ingredients for almost every single season:

1. Everything starts normal, and then WHAM—Jack is suddenly in the middle of a huge crisis that he’s TOTALLY surprised to be in.
2. Jack gets tortured.
3. Said crisis comes to a head in the first third of the season, and is solved by Jack—miraculously.
4. At the end of the episode where he foils the crisis, another VERY SURPRISING new wrinkle emerges—another crisis begins.
5. Jack gets tortured.
6. Jack gets close to solving case.
7. There’s a mole at CTU who foils the plan.
8. Jack gets tortured.
9. Eventually, just in the nick of time, Jack saves the day.
10. As the season ends, something weird happens—foreshadowing for the next season

As an aside, in case you are wondering what a “nick of time” is (I know I was!), I looked it up. A nick is a mark on a stick that used to be used to measure time. Interesting huh?

So anyway, I fully know all the weaknesses and redundancy of 24, but still I love it. I just do. It is my guilty pleasure. I still watch it religiously and I’m excited about this season. It’s going really well. And they are sticking to my layout of a good season with deft precision.

Go get ‘em Jack.

(you got any guilty pleasures?)

That’s it.  Arg.

You’ve heard of writer’s block right? Well, there is such a thing for teachers/preachers as well. As I have well documented already, I go though a process when developing a teaching (sermon). It involves prayer, moving into meditation, moving into study, and finally into writing.

This particular teaching has a lot of extraneous pressures weighing on my mind as I’ve tried to seek God about it: (1) it’s Easter—got to be good; (2) it’s the end of the series—needs to wrap everything up nicely; (3) it’s Easter—needs to incorporate the resurrection; (4) the topic overlaps with some of what I said in last week’s teaching—makes me nervous people will think I’m redundant; (5) it’s Easter—did I mention that??

Inevitably the more extra thoughts there are in my head, the harder it is to focus and find the real deal. So I’ve spent hours and hours thinking, praying, and meditating on this thing. And I’m circling. Big time. About 10:30pm tonight the panic began to set in.

I hate the panic.

It’s like that feeling you used to get when you showed up in class and the teacher started to hand out tests, and you are like, “WHAT!?!?!?!?  A test?!?!?!”

Yeah, like that.  Only it’s like, “WHAT?!?!?!? Tomorrow is EASTER!!!!!”

Finally tonight I tried an approach I have only tried a few times before. I started writing before it was all crystal clear in my mind. Usually I don’t write until I’ve got the whole structure laid out in my head. But tonight was different. It had to be. My thinking had become futile, and I needed to just start.

So I wrote kind of a free-thought style, and then went back and tried to build structure around it. And then, went back again and tried to insert scripture.

What I have ended up with is not my normal teaching. Which may be a really good thing.

The last time I felt awesome about a teaching the night before I bombed. So maybe feeling scared the night before, will mean it ends up awesome! Who knows?

One thing I know, is that I am not going to be insecure. I will not apologize!! I learned my lesson a few weeks ago. I’m going to just preach this thing with all my heart, no matter what. And let the chips fall where they may.

Update forthcoming tomorrow night…

I get really inspired, moved, excited, awed, and amazed every year around Easter. For much of my faith on a daily basis, I focus on the Resurrection. I believe that Christianity should be about the victory of Jesus, the life He gives, and the salvation He brings. However, there really is a time to meditate on His “passion”—the time of his suffering and death.

For some reason, Good Friday really gets to me.  There is something so sacred and deep and holy about it. There is something so overwhelming about the sacrifice that He gave because of His love for us. He believed in us so much, believed in our potential, saw in us what we struggle to see ourselves—that he paid the ultimate price to secure our future.

And, as I meditate on all this, I begin to realize that I simply can not wrap my mind around what He has actually done. What he actually gave up. So tonight we read this passage at our small group, and it’s a passage I meditate on often:

Philippians 2:5-11
Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:  Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.  And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross!  Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name…

What amazes me about this passage is the beautiful portrayal of the humiliation of Christ. God becomes a servant; the All Powerful is humble; the Creator becomes His creation; the Eternal submits to death. It’s unfathomable. It’s indescribable.

What amazes me is the descending steps of his humiliation. As one author put it, the cross is “The bottom rung in the ladder from the Throne of God. Jesus came all the way down to the most despised death of all, a condemned criminal on the accursed cross.” (ref) Not only does God come to serve, but he becomes man. Not only does he become man, but he allows himself to die. And not only does he allow himself to die, but he allows himself to be crucified—the most ignominious way to die!

It’s kind of like Him saying, “There is literally nothing else I can do to show you my love. There is no possible way for me to lower myself any further.”

I just think it’s amazing. Words escape me. I just want to honor and stand in awe of the true sacrifice that was paid on our behalf. I think that meditating on the suffering and understanding the price that was paid, makes Resurrection Day all that more powerful!

1) Please make these four hours of sleep feel like eight!

2) Please don’t let these calories count!

3) Please help me to make a teaching really fast tonight!

4) Even though I haven’t run consistently for 10 years, please help me to play soccer tonight like I did when I was 18!

5) Even though I’m not finished with my notes yet, and still have a power point to make, and its 12:30am, please let me be in bed by 1!

6) Please don’t let me owe that much for taxes!

7) Please don’t let me be so scared by this horror movie that I can’t sleep tonight!

8) Please help me not to get a ticket while I park here! (Jason’s personal favorite of mine!)

9) Even though I’m still not finished with my notes yet, and still have a power point to make, and its now 1:20am, please let me be in bed by 2!

10) Please help me to think of something really creative to post tonight on my blog!

Also, BTW  – this is my 101st post! Quite an accomplishment!

You got any prayers that you pray like these?

I know, weird.

You see, I paid someone to do my taxes my entire life. That is, until four years ago when, because of an accumulation of special situations (partially owned rentals, bunches of small self-employed jobs, being a pastor, etc), I had to pay $900 to HR Block to do them! What??!?! I remember when the lady put the sheet in front of me, I couldn’t believe it.

So, the next year, I determined to figure it out myself. I bought some software for $50 (much cheaper than $900) and set out. It took me many hours and lots of frustration—but I got it! And I’ve never looked back.

And the strange this is, I really really enjoy it. I look forward to it. In fact, I kind of think I’d enjoy doing other people’s taxes too. There is something soothing about doing methodical math work.  Strange.

Anyway, tonight I printed everything out and I’m ready to file. What a sense of accomplishment! YES!

It’s similar to when I finished my undergrad thesis. I remember watching all 100 pages print out and thinking, I can’t believe I did this! So cool.

And maybe the best part is, for the first time that I can remember, I am getting money back! Whoa. What a concept.

So yeah – it’s a good night!

OK, so this picture has nothing really to do with my post, but I just really love it and yeah . . .  it inspires me :)

But what I really want to talk about is the fact that I’ve taught 4 of the last 5 Sundays, and I have the next two as well. This is the most I’ve ever taught consecutively on Sunday morning in my life. I was excited for this challenge, and knew that I’d learn a lot about myself during the process.

One thing I’ve noticed is that I’m starting to fall into a groove (just noticed that when I spell that with one “o” like I did the first time, that it spells GROVE – wouldn’t that be nice to ‘fall into’?). I have kind of a series of things I do, almost like a ritual, to get inspired for a new teaching.

First, early in the week, I like to spend anywhere between 1-3 hours praying in the main room at the church. Something about being in the room that I will preach in inspires me. And praying, before thinking about what I want to say, or studying and researching, is a really good foundation for me. I like to just pray. And then listen. And then write.

Usually the first thing I’m going for is the “main idea.” Often I have a pre-assigned topic, so what I’m praying about is what God wants me to say about that topic. Then, (hopefully as fast as possible) I am passionately pursuing the coveted three points. I am addicted to those three points. I lust after them.  I need them. If it starts to get close to Sunday, and I don’t have the three headings for those points, I start to panic. What if I can’t find three points???

So yeah, I’m a little obsessed with the three points. But it’s for a good reason. They are the main building blocks to support and communicate the main message. I need them (did I mention that yet?!).

Then I like to spend some time studying. I’ll do this by listening to a couple teachings throughout the week that are of similar themes and taking notes on them. I carry these notes in the car, around in my pocket, wherever I need them.

I also will do some study online. Usually two nights before I’ll spend some considerable time reading related verses, and especially commentaries.

Then, either two nights before, or the night before, I take a shower. Yup. A shower. I have no idea why, but it really seems to work for me. In the shower I pretty much start to preach in my head and try different approaches over and over again until it “works.”

Eventually I get tired of the shower, so I have to get out. So then I spend another long period of time walking around the house (not naked!!) praying and writing things down, and reciting the teaching in my head.

Once I feel really good about flow, about stories, about verses, about themes, about the three points, and about illustrations…then I will let myself go write. Usually this isn’t until 11pm the night before.

Crazy huh?

So, what inspires you?

Today was a good day. And its on days like this where I realize how thankful I am for my job. This morning I got to worship with and be around some great people. I genuinely enjoy the people in our church. I feel like we have a lot of very sincere and real people in our church. It’s refreshing.

Tonight I got to spend time hanging out with my youth group. It’s funny. Today a lady at church was telling me that I should get a “younger speaker to come speak to youth group, because young people respond well to younger people.”

What??

That’s my line!

That’s what I’ve been saying for 16 years! And now, guess what? I’m too old?

Crazy.

So anyway, that was a bit of tangent. I love being around my youth group. They are amazing. They are such an inspiration. To be around young people as they find their path to God; to answer their questions while they still care what the answer is; to be part of the foundation upon which…hopefully…a life will remain to stand upon for years to come—all of this is so much fun for me.

And to add to that we welcomed some friends of mine from New York to lead tonight, and then got to eat out late with good friends from there, and good friends from here.There’s nothing quite like hanging out late at a diner, eating, laughing, and enjoying life. Yep – that’s all part of my job too. Really! Isn’t that crazy?

To top it off, I got to come home and sit with Mandy as she fell asleep on me as I rubbed her hair (no, that’s not part of my job – but it was still awesome).

Yep it was a good day. And I really do have a good job. And now that the stupid movie is finally over . . . I’m going to bed.

The nearest creek was White Clay near a bridge that some friends of mine and I used to jump off of in high school after soccer practice to cool down. I’ve taken my kids there once or twice in their lifetime, but it hasn’t been one of our ‘regular’ spots. I was excited to explore something new!

We headed out down the path—there is just something about beautiful weather and nature and creeks and my children, that makes everything right in the universe. My kids can sense it to. They stop fighting. They stop complaining. And they just revel. It’s awesome.

I’ve said this before but this is maybe the most cathartic thing I can do personally. Even sometimes just an hour in nature with my kids will lift a million pounds of stress right off my shoulders. It’s unbelievable.

This particular path was unique in that it didn’t so much go along the stream, as it went above the stream. So we were looking down on the water, rather than being next to it, able to touch it. The game, therefore, became to find places to get to the water!

So we found some places, and they were beautiful. The first few were just about 2 feet wide, and we had to stand real close to each other to fit, and then climb back up the embankment to the trail again. There was a lot of talk about fish, turtles, frogs, and snakes, and when they will all start coming around again. The kids are fixated on King Cobras right now (I have no idea why) and so we talked a lot about them, and I pretended to be the resident King Cobra expert…which I’m not.

At the next place where we could jump down, fortunately, we found some rocks. Rocks worthy of throwing to the other side. Rocks worthy of being skipped. THIS, if nothing else, is a Dunn pastime. I can remember (do I sound old enough?) a day at a lake in Fostoria Ohio where my parents grew up…when my dad first showed me how to skip stones. I was, and still am, amazed and in love with skipping stones. I have taught each of my kids as soon as they could stand by the water’s edge without falling in. In fact, I’m pretty prideful about it. In my head I sometimes pretend (yes, still!) that I’m in some amazing Skip Stones And Win A Million Dollars Competition. I’m pretty sure I would win.

Oh yeah. My girl knows how to throw too. Don’t worry.

The next place we found was truly remarkable. We were so excited to find this tree…in the middle of the water. We couldn’t get over it. (So we sat next to it…get it?) Elliot was especially amazed, and made me shoot some pics of him with the tree. He’s a stud.

And then, finally, there’s the butterfly. Mathea can catch a butterfly in Antartica, during a blizzard, with her eyes closed, and her hands tied behind her back. She caught one right away. And she is so gentle, she carried the little guy around forever.

Then she got him a drink.

Oh yeah, that makes him not able to fly! So he sat on her hands, and wouldn’t leave, which was just about the most awesome thing ever for her. He likes me!!!

And then things got real interesting.

I was dressed fairly nicely because the plan was for Mandy and I to head out on a date after all this, and to drop our kids off at my parents’. I was being very careful not to get dirty (not an easy task for me even if I was in a completely sterile, dirt free environment!). So Thea lost the butterfly. She kept saying she could see him up further on the bank about six feet from us.

I looked and looked…and saw nothing. And promptly told her she was wrong, over and over again.  Until I saw it of course. See I told you Daddy!!

So I had to get it right? I stepped on a branch, reached across the water, and CRACK! – into the stream I went.

Yep. Nice clothes and all (you can’t tell much from the pic, but my shoes were soaked, my shorts were wet especially on one side, and my shirt had a big wet spot).

Standing in the creek up to my knees I looked at the kids, and they looked at me. It looked like they were thinking, poor dad, he’s supposed to not get dirty…will he be mad?

And I just started laughing.

And so did they.

And it was a wonderful day.

But kids are different sometimes. 

And this week it’s been like something has just hit our kids. We always talk about Malachi and Hope. They are part of a our family and so they enter our conversation regularly.  But this week our kids have been talking specifically about missing them a lot.

We have these two special bears that we got for each of them at the hospital. The kids call the bears Malachi and Hope (very sweet and sad). Well they go through phases of getting obsessed with them, and recently they found them and started wanting to sleep holding them. (How sad is that!)

And then, the past three nights, one of our kids has started crying uncontrollably about missing them. This is really unique. I mean, there have been tears shed, but it has honestly been a while since the kids have cried. And now out of nowhere, the floodgates are opening.

I think maybe it has something to do with the arrival of Eden. I mean experiencing what they are missing with the other two may just be hitting them like never before. Eden has brought so much joy and life to our house. She is a ray of sunshine, literally, shining everywhere she goes. But what is very real and apparent to us (as it was before we were blessed with Eden) is that Eden does not replace in any way Malachi and Hope. 

And so, while we are comforted and blessed by Eden, we are also sadly reminded of the babies we have not had the chance to do all these special things with. Every day.

So we are living in the bittersweet right now. And I think we probably always will. 

If you think of it, pray for the little ones in our house. They are carrying burdens that no child should ever have to carry. And it is so sad as a parent to watch them try to work through the very big concepts of death, heaven, life, and grief. 

Praise God for his continued faithfulness to our family. May he be ever closer!

It was so scary when they would start singing. In the car. In the apartment. At small group! I secretly hated it. Not because of them, but because of me. You see, another thing about me is that I desperately want to be cool and to be liked. As I’ve gotten older I’ve gotten some perspective on that stuff, but as a teenager…man…I wanted to be cool SO badly.

And singing was cool.  Especially in my circle of friends. I mean think about it – Jason…Jonathan…Darby…Rebekah…Jessica…Chris…all amazing singers! (Sorry Joe – don’t think I’ve ever heard you sing!)

So, yeah, I have been very insecure in this area. Last night was my first attempt ever at singing at a concert. I quickly realized that singing at a concert is not like singing for leading worship.  When you lead worship you can kind of hide behind the fact that people are supposed to be focusing on God. But when you sing at a concert, you are basically saying, “My voice is SO good, you should pay money to sit there and listen to me.”

Yeah.  Pressure.

And if I were to rate  myself, I think I would give myself somewhere between a B and a C. I mean, the two songs I did with the kids were fun and high energy, so those were awesome. And there’s not much I enjoy more than playing music with my kids.

And the Fernando song—I feel like that went well. I love singing that song, and feel like I can really get into it and hit the notes in my range and be confident the entire time.

But the Billy Joel song….uh oh. It was just OK. I mean, I got into it and for some reason, everything started to tighten up. My throat got tight, my face got tight . . . and so weird—my cheeks started to shake (facial cheeks, not the other ones)!  WHAT!!?? It was like my face was totally out of control! And I was thinking, “Can people see my cheeks shaking?? Can they see this? Oh no! Focus on the words!”

And, there were some notes that I—how do you say it—butchered. There are a couple times when he starts singing the “I” and holds it out across a chord change. It sounds great, and I thought that I could do that when I was practicing in my living room at 2am. But on stage…it was kind of brutal. Shaky. Arg.

But Mandy liked the meaning behind it and said I performed it well. Even if I felt shaky, she said I brought a light spirit to it and made it really fun for everyone. So that’s cool.

Definitely a trial by fire. But I’ve got to tell you. It was really fun.

Next hurdle? Writing a song.

Last one was 18 years ago. Remember that one Jason?  “It’s You I Love”  Hahahaha

So, here’s the deal. I’m playing three covers at a benefit concert this weekend, and my friend Jessica insists that I have to memorize these songs. Memorize them!?!?! That means not only do I have to memorize how to play them on guitar, but the actual words too? This is way more than I bargained for.

I’m a drummer. And, drummers, well, we have an ability to remember beats for songs and stuff. But not words. I will often start singing a song from when Mandy and I were teens or something, and I will get maybe 1 out of 10 words right. And Mandy will ask, “how do you not know the words to “Welcome to the Jungle?”

And the problem is, I listen to drums! I struggle to remember words to any songs. At all!

Now that I’ve begun to play guitar and sing, I always have a song sheet in front of me. And I stare at it like my life depends on it! I mean, even if I absolutely know the song, I still feel compelled to stare at that sheet!

This, needless to say, is a monumental departure from my comfort zone. I mean, it is a big enough deal that I’m actually going to be singing in front of people right? This is the first time I’ve ever done that in a performance type venue. EVER!!! And now I have to memorize it all too!!??

Needless to say, I’m a little stressed. I’ve got one song down pat. No worries. Another is close. But then there’s this third song. For the life of me I can’t ever remember what the second line of the song is. Or the fourth. But I’ve got the rest. But really, I mean it. I have played this song at least 20 times tonight. EVERY TIME when I get to the second line, I have no idea!

Now, this might make sense for say, the 3rd line of the second verse or something more obscure like that. But this is the second line of the song!! I mean, it doesn’t get much easier than that! So what is my problem??

So frustrating.

Sunday night…be kind to me.

When I get the chance to teach at church I think about this quote a lot. I’m not even sure who said it, but somewhere along the line in my life, this quote made an impact in my life. I will often run my teaching through this gauntlet—is it intellectually challenging?; will it touch people emotionally?; is it practical enough to demand a behavioral, volitional response?

To say that I “think about my teachings a lot” is probably a pretty good understatement. I come close to obsessing. Seriously. I typically spend hours mulling over every single detail in my teaching. Generally I won’t even start writing notes down, until I have rehearsed my teaching over and over again in my head. God has gifted (or is it a curse!) me with a very logical brain, so when I think about a teaching, I actually visualize the teaching broken into several-minute chunks. Welcome>Intro (is it a story? funny? serious? bible verse? does this really fit? will it work? will it grab people’s attention? does it seguey perfectly?)>first point…..and on and on.

I obsess over every minute detail. Does this story illustrate exactly what this point will say? Or, I’m making this point, what story from my life can I think of to illustrate this? Does point 1 support and flow into point 2, and then point 3, and overall? Is there a logical flow?

When I’m all done creating, I will often go over it and write times in the margins to help me stay on track—like, point 1 must start at 10:05. (Have I said too much yet?)

I spend so much time inside my head (and spirit) that I have to create activities to help me not fall asleep. It actually is kind of a meditation that I do where I envision myself preaching and just try different approaches, different Scriptures, different stories, one after the other, until it works. So I will often take 30 minute showers during preparation time, in order to stay awake while thinking through this. And I’ve taken to walking. I will pace in my house; sometimes outside my house—back and forth on my sidewalk—and very often in the main room of the church.

I say all this to say that I take creating a teaching very seriously. I try to listen to God for every detail. And this past Sunday, was one of those Sundays for me.

I think my preparation was decent, maybe not my best. The material God put on my heart was solid. Challenging even. The logical flow was good. But you see, you can prepare until the cows come home (which by the way, they never did that night, so maybe that’s the deal) but if you can’t deliver, then it’s virtually pointless. And delivery is where everything fell apart for me. Delivery is usually the EASY part for me. I absolutely love being in front of people and teaching. It is one of my very favorite, most fulfilling, most exciting things to do in life. But I do have an achilles heel—insecurity.

And this Sunday it got the best of me.

Somewhere in between the 9am service and the 11am service, the thought grabbed me that I have been way too serious lately. No funny stories. Not much laughing. Was I doing something wrong? Allowing myself to dwell on this thought eventually led to my demise! During the 11am service, about 10 minutes into the teaching, I looked around and to my eyes, it appeared people were totally bored.

“Oh no! See! You are WAY TOO SERIOUS! Quick! Think of something funny to say! You are losing them! Why did you pick this topic anyway? This topic is too elementary! No one is challenged! They are just feeling sorry for you now!”

And down I went. Further and further. And then, I made my trademark mistake. I started apologizing for myself.

“I’m sorry I’m so serious all the time guys! Man, you are probably thinking where’s the funny Christian we are used to?”

And over the years I’ve learned that me apologizing for myself, is really me saying, “Well I think this really stinks, so you probably do too! Right?!?”

Yeah.  So I bombed.

Now, what’s crazy about teaching in church is that even if on the inside I bombed; even if according to my standards I did not attain that level I am shooting for; God still uses the material to touch people’s lives.  And inevitably people will come up to me after my worst showings (in my eyes) and say, “That was your best teaching ever!”

WHAT?!?!?!?

I guess that’s God’s way of reminding me that even though I prepare, prepare, prepare . . . in the end the real “oomph” to any good teaching is God. And that, of course, is always my prayer. That God will fill my words with meaning and authority beyond my abilities. And so often he does, for which I am always very grateful.

But anyway, I’m slated to teach again this week. And I am going to conquer this insecurity, and give a teaching knowing that I’m doing what I love, and saying what God wants me to say. And I’m not going to get focused on what other people look like, or think . . .or what I think they think which, might not even be true! I’m just going to enjoy myself, and do my best. And let the words fall where they may…

Or this game: Daddy Makeover.

This started when Mathea was very young. I would ask her to give me a haircut, and she would get all her little pretend tools out, cover me in a blanket, and play with my hair for an hour. Amazing. I love this game.

A couple weeks ago we played it.  Half way through I decided that she should be allowed to use some real “product.” So I told her to get my gel. This was so much fun! She likes to make my hair really flat, and then push the front all to one side. Hideous!

And then I had another idea…

I told Thea to get her play makeup.  That’s right. Go Time.

So she added a TON of lipgloss (much like she does for herself), lots of really gooey blush, some purple eye shadow, some clips in my hair . . .  well you get the idea. So here’s what we ended up with:

Yeah, I know. Amazing. You can stop lusting now.

And here is me with my beautiful make up artist:

Oh  man, we had so much fun. What a wonderful little girl. And boy does she love her daddy!

Last week I got into this movie with Bernie Mac about a professional baseball player who made the hall of fame after hitting 3000 hits. 10 years later they figured out they had miscalculated and he only had 2997. So he went back! Of course the sub-theme was that he was a diva the first go around, and now he helps the new kids figure out to play as a team. I got totally sucked in. Finally turned it off at 1:30am.

Tonight, same thing. I wanted to relax and just watch TV tonight. I spoke at IV earlier tonight, and tomorrow night I have to make another teaching for Sunday morning, so I’m looking to just chill tonight.

And I found the perfect poison.

The movie 12 Monkeys is on one channel. It’s crazy. But totally addictive. And then on another channel, Aliens Versus Predator. Awesome. And addictive.

Yes, I got sucked into two movies at once. Flipping back and forth.  Here is a sample of my thoughts tonight: He is CRAZY > His guns are so cool > Insane > Gross Alien Baby >What is going on here? > That Predator is so cool >Is this guy really a time traveler? > Dude, that girl is the Predator’s partner now? > Whoa, kidnapped girl is dead > Aliens are dead! > Kidnapped girl alive! . . . 

And on…

I loved it. Both movies so cool. Didn’t finish 12 Monkeys. Need to figure out how that ends. I am so into it and I have no idea how it’s going to end.

But, seriously, have you ever watched Aliens and Predator?  I know it’s cheesy, but for some reason (I’ve watched it twice now!) I just really like it. Predator is so cool.

So anyway, that’s my night! Crazy! Insane! Aliens!!

It was a great day. My kids and Mandy guarantee that its great every year. Mandy is really funny because she is always extremely stressed out that somehow she is going to let me down. And what is funny is that I just want to  hang out with them. But she is always asking, all day long, if I’m having fun and what  I want to do to make it awesome. She knows I really like to DO stuff, so she’s always afraid I’m secretly wishing we were doing something else! Haha. I think it’s really sweet.

Anyway, it was all around great. I had some great friends (Shane and Jessica) decorate my office really nicely (which was awesome), I got tons of wishes on facebook (which I actually loved), I got gourmet cupcakes with Jessica (pretzel white chocolate!), and then I got to come home to a house that was overflowing with excitement about me. Somehow while doing homeschool for 2 kids, and taking care of a newborn, Mandy had managed to take all the kids out shopping for me. All the kids had made me cards and wrapped presents for me. They are so sweet.

Then we went to Macaroni Grill and had a blast, and capped off the night with ice cream at Coldstone. Samuel kept saying all through the night, “this is the best birthday ever dad!”

And one more thing about Mandy that cracked me up. She is so sweet. We watched some TV together at night and she fell asleep. But she fell asleep in kind of an uncomfortable position, so I was trying to gently put a pillow under her head for her, and she kept halfway waking up and saying, “It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m not asleep. What do you want to watch?” Even in her sleep, she was still SO worried about my birthday being awesome. I thought it was funny.

So anyway, I did a little research, and I thought I’d post some things that happened in 1977. Some of it is very interesting!

-  A Gallon of gas cost $.65!

- A house on average cost $42,000

- The first Apple II computer went on sale (I love apple!)

- Two movies I love came out – Rocky and Star Wars

- Punk music really broke through in ’77

- The 76ers were in the finals – and lost

- Elvis Presley did his last concert

- Xerox release its first laser printer – for $500,000 

- The Police (the band) formed!

- Also, another favorite band of mine, Genesis – lost Peter Gabriel and had Phil Collins take over as lead singer 

- A little boy was born in Buffalo