A Lasting Random Moment

I read this year that one of my "heroes" who is a tremendous influence on my life, my former Baptist Student Union (or now called, "Baptist Collegiate Ministries") Director, is retiring.  Okay, so I knew it had to come & I'm okay with that.  But that's not what stopped me in my tracks & made me do a double-take in life.  It was what I came upon in my trunk of junk down in my basement a few months ago.  I had always remembered this item, though I had forgotten about actually saving it in my trunk.

Arliss Dickerson was my BSU Director during the 4 years I attended Arkansas State University.  During my intense involvement with the ASU/BSU, the impact he had upon my life would eventually reverberate well into the 21st Century.  I always felt that his mentorship was unique & was something that stayed with me.  But it wasn't until years later, after getting married, moving 1,200 miles from my home, & starting a family, that I discovered that he had been elevated by other BSU Directors to a type of "Baptist Sainthood" among collegiate ministers.  Needless to say that even this was no surprise to me.

But when I found this memento in my trunk, it hit me that Arliss was a one-of-a-kind person.  Coming out of a childhood where my relationships were mostly fair-weathered, what I learned from Arliss & how he established relationships was one of the primary cornerstones that help to build my character.  And how I got this memento was one of the most random moments of my life--yet it was something I will cherish like a family heirloom.

Arliss & I were standing in the breezeway entrance of the Baptist Student Center one afternoon (I believe the current term in culture is "chillin'"), not really talking...but when we did, it was about nothing, when he reached out nonchalantly & grabbed a plain white piece of paper.  He reached for a black "Majik Marker" & scribbled a note, folded the paper, & handed it to me.  He smiled & headed down the hall to his office.  Totally thinking to myself, "Okay, what crazy thing did Arliss write?"  I unfolded the paper & saw this:

A little note that had a big impact.

I chuckled at the randomness of his attempt at a campaign slogan, but then it just sunk in to my psyche that I was a person of value to him.  I was someone who mattered.  It wasn't because of what I was doing in my work with the BSU, it wasn't because of my dashing good looks, it wasn't because of my filthy rich family...  It was because I was who I was.  I remembered taking this note with me & when I got back to my dorm, I placed it in my trunk where it was kept with all the other milestones I've passed through my life.

I have to say that since crossing paths with Arliss Dickerson, the way I treat people has profoundly changed.  I could have held a chip on my shoulder from my childhood & grown up bitter & resentful.  But I saw what authenticity in friendship looked like & felt how it was able to dissolve away the immaturity of childhood.  I'm sure there'll be much hoopla during the year leading up to a huge, much-publicized, retirement party for Arliss.  And I'm equally sure of the fact that it will be something that brings a certain degree of discomfort to Arliss because he never seemed like a person who relished a whole lot of attention being poured on him.  It actually was a distraction to him because he was just too busy "being Arliss".

Frankly, if I ever got the chance to become "President of the World", I know who would be my "Chief of Staff".

Law of the Jungle

When that first grader stands at the door of his classroom on the first day of school, it's as though he or she is standing at the edge of a jungle that will take 12 years to go through.  Facing it can be a challenge or an opportunity.  As the child journeys through, a choice must be made to either learn to adapt to jungle life [Tarzan] or be pursued by jungle life [tourist].

It was a jungle that I faced as a kid where I found out about the predators who lurked in the shadows & I found out about the natives who showed me how to survive.  It is in this environment that one must understand the "law of the jungle".  Frankly, every kid who begins the journey through school will encounter some anxiety along with adventure.  The thrill of adventure comes from meeting new friends, learning new things, & discovering new abilities.  the agony of anxiety comes from not knowing the way to go, overcoming a stronger opponent, & the fear of failure.

As I walked through the jungle, I could either let my anxiety overcome me or I could embrace my adventure to propel me over my challenges.  This never eliminated my challenges, but it did provide me with tools necessary to meet them head-on.  For a dozen years, I endured my trip through the education system in only one school district.  I never had to relocate to a new jungle.  What I encountered in 1st Grade would follow me right through my senior year in high school.

What I am left with my experience in the jungle is a memory of survival of the fittest.  I never desired to compete in athletics or in any other organised events.  But I did compete with my social environment that surrounded me in the jungle.  I don't know what started my impact with the jungle environment but I do know that I evolved to become the "comic relief" or the "class dunce" as I advanced to each new grade level.

I was greeted by my 6th Grade classmates
by being hung on the coat rack.

In today's culture, I would have been classified as a victim of bullying.

This really didn't matter too much to me until recently when my oldest son, who at 10 years old & in the 5th Grade at a private Christian school, began to encounter the same thing.  I simply learned to survive through my anxiety but my son was having some serious issues dealing with his.  He confessed to his Mom one evening that he had thought of hanging himself.

Now the jungle that my son went through was small potatoes compared to my jungle.  To him, however, nothing could compare.  We acted immediately by meeting with his teacher, school councillor, & the school's headmaster.  And things are now on a upward improvement.

But during my journey in the jungle, there was no awareness of the impact elements like this have on those who experience it.  It was an "every kid for himself" mentality.  Granted, 30 years ago families were more stable than they are in today's society.  There was more affirmation & love from moms & dads who kept their commitment to each other & to their families.  I am certain that is one of the advantages I had in my favour.

I was able to tell my son about the "jungle stories" from when I was his age so to assure him that he was not the only one who was going through this trial...nor would he be the last kid who was ever harassed, bullied, insulted, isolated, or prejudiced.  I told him of the countless times I was the last one picked for team games on the playground..and how the teacher would have to overrule & assign me to a team--who protested about my participation.  I also told him how my 5th Grade teacher, frustrated at my comical antics (or some other trait I was displaying) said, "...you are a disgrace to the human race!"  If a teacher said that today, they would soon become a "former" teacher.

Then there was the time I was dropped off at school early & was met at the door of my 6th Grade homeroom by a few of my classmates who decided to relieve me of my coat & books so they could tie my hands behind my back with jump rope.  Then as they led me to the coat rack in the back of the classroom, I remember hearing my teacher say (as she was looking down at her gradebook while grading papers), "Ya'll don't hurt him, now."  The next think I knew, I was being lifted up onto a metal hook on the coat rack...which snapped off within seconds, sending me plummeting into the pile of coats on the floor.

I told him of how things escalated in Jr. & Sr. High School--when I would only hang out behind the high school building after lunch because I was afraid that if I ventured to the front of the building I would be chased down & forced to sit on the "queer stump" that was by the sidewalk.  And about the time when I was one of the "featured contestants" in 7th Grade for a "marshmallow eating contest" at a "pep rally" (how this pertains to pepping up the high school team remains to be seen).  The cheerleaders called my name to "come on down" & be blindfolded in front of the 670 7th-12th Graders in the bleachers.  I was to consume as many marshmallows that were being stuffed into my mouth as I could & if I swallowed more than the other "contestants", I would win.  I didn't know until I had finished the "game" & walked back to the stands that I needed to go to the bathroom to wash my face off.  It was then that I saw in the mirror the marshmallows had all be dusted with black charcoal, which was now smeared all over my face.

Yes, my jungle had plenty of memorable moments in addition to having to face a few actual "bullies" who would make physical threats to harm me...though none ever happened.  I can at least be thankful that I never had to suffer a black eye, broken bone, or other injuries.  The effect, however, was enough to instil a constant feeling of caution...to guard my emotions or my psyche...toward any advances toward me.  I have often said that I've had so many "fair weather friends", I could easily go to work for AccuWeather.

It wasn't until my senior year that my jungle began to clear out somewhat.  I was called to the door of my World Civilisations class by my teacher who said there was someone to see me.  When I saw it was a fellow classmate who was on the school paper staff, armed with a camera, my defence shields went up.  I was asked to follow her down the hall.  When I asked where we were going, I was told that I was joining others in my class in the court yard to get photos for the school paper because in the recent survey by the senior class, I was voted "Most Civic Minded".  Needless to say, my first reaction was that it was a set-up...that there was no way my name could ever be associated with "Most..." anything unless it was something like, "Most Likely to be Weird".

Maturity & life's experiences have
made a lot of changes in people.

As I came out of my jungle & entered the mature world of college life, I met new friends there who began to introduce me to genuine friendship & acceptance.  I found that I didn't need to be the oddball to attract attention.  I could just be myself.  People I met & began to know in college soon replaced those who I knew & associated with in the 12 years of my undergraduate experiences.   Additionally, with the advent of online "social networks", those acquaintances from my elementary, Jr., & Sr. high school years have drifted back in the form of "friend requests".  It's fascinating to me, quite honestly, why I would be requested as a friend on a social network when I was so frequently--and vocally--passed over when I physically was in their presence during childhood.  I do understand that maturity & life's experiences have made a lot of changes in people...and it has in my life, too.  I certainly do not process my relationships the same way I did when I was a kid.  But it still is something that I ponder.

Ironically, 2011 will be the 30th Anniversary of my graduating class.  There's been some discussion about a reunion.  But, I think I'm going to be busy then.

Living Up To Our Anthem

Why does a nation have a "national anthem"?  Why does a school have an "alma mater"?  It is to signify loyalty & commitment to that institution or to that cause.  It is to inspire the pursuit toward a goal, a cause, a legacy.  At ball games, school functions, & other events that include communities, we all rise pay tribute to the National Anthem of the United States of America.  Some remove their hats, place their hands over their hearts -- all to show our loyalty to our Nation.  But what was behind the lyrics of this song that Sir Francis Scott Key composed on September 14, 1814 that eventually became our country's call to loyalty?  Well, here's a historical refresher course:

While many know the story behind Francis Scott Key penning the beloved Star Spangle Banner, not many know the story of the flag that was flown at Fort McHenry that inspired the Key to write the words that would become the National Anthem of the United States of America. This flag was created by Mary Young Pickersgill.

The War of 1812 was a critical time during in America's history. The Commander of Fort McHenry, Colonel Armistead, along with other military leaders, knew how important Fort McHenry was to nation at this time. The British had burned Washington and were advancing toward Balitmore. These brave leaders felt that the Baltimoreans were discouraged and afraid. They felt that they would have their spirits raised by seeing a huge, high flying flag at Fort McHenry as a symbol of defiance.

It was because of this that Colonel Armistead commissioned Mary Youngs Pickersgill, a local seamstress and flag maker to make two flags for Fort McHenry in 1813 - a large flag and a smaller one to fly in bad weather. She was paid $500 for both flags, the large one being 30 x 42 feet, so it could be seen from a great distance. She was asked to sew a flag with 15 stars and 15 stripes, the number of states then in the Union.

Anticipating an attack on Fort McHenry by the British during the War of 1812, Major Armistead asked that the flag be made extra large so that it would be plainly visible to the English Fleet. He had also hoped the large flag would lift the spirits of the Baltimoreans, allowing them to see this flag fly in defiance of the British.

This flag was used as the garrison flag of Fort McHenry during the British siege of the fort during the War of 1812. When Francis Scott Key saw the flag from a ship eight miles down the Patapsco River on September 14, 1814, the flag was still waving in the breeze after twenty-five hours of heavy bombardment by the British. The British were very discouraged to see it still there, but Key was inspired to write the poem that became the National Anthem.

The poem was set to the tune of a popular British drinking song, written by John Stafford Smith for the Anacreontic Society, a men's social club in London. "The Anacreontic Song" (or "To Anacreon  in Heaven"), with various lyrics, was already popular in the United States. Set to Key's poem and renamed "The Star-Spangled Banner", it would soon become a well-known American patriotic song. With a range of one and a half octaves, it is known for being difficult to sing. Although the song has four stanzas, only the first is commonly sung today, with the fourth ("O thus be it ever when free men shall stand...") added on more formal occasions. In the fourth stanza, Key urged the adoption of "In God is our Trust" as the national motto ("And this be our motto: In God is our Trust").  The United States adopted the motto "In God We Trust" by law in 1956.

"The Star-Spangled Banner" was recognized for official use by the Navy in 1889 and the President in 1916, and was made the national anthem by a congressional resolution on March 3, 1931 (46 Stat. 1508, codified at 36 U.S.C. § 301), which was signed by President Herbert Hoover.

When reading the lyrics, I began asking myself if we as Americans who proclaim loyalty to this country by singing them really believe them enough to live them in our daily lives. 

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more!
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war's desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Amalek's Pursuit

Immediately when we come out of Egypt, Amalek (who represents the flesh) will come against us and will attack us at our weakest point in an effort to keep us from Canaan.  --Dr. Adrian Rogers

Traveling 62 miles a day to a job 5 days a week has its challenges.  Within 3 weeks of my first day on the job in 2005, I did the "Tennessee Waltz" on an icy bridge & totaled my 2003 Saturn.  So, I ended up getting a pre-owned 2003 Saturn ION & adding another year or two to my car payments.

Just about 2 months ago that ION was paid off & shortly after that, I ran over a coon that knocked out an air vent under the grille (a cosmetic loss).  This was the 2nd time I had hit a coon that did the same damage.  I had also hit a deer less than a year prior to this which did over $4,000 damage to the car & the insurance company wanted to total the vehicle.  But I did prevail & was happy to still be driving a good looking, superior-running vehicle that was totally paid for.

Until this morning.

That's when I ran into a bridge going to work.  At 4:45am.  After light rain had wet the road just enough to slicken it down.  And it was just because I was going through my mental checklist as I was headed to work.  There was a thunderstorm nearby & winds were whipping the trees around.  The road I travel has had its share of downed trees since it follows a creek between some steep hillsides where trees can grow sideways.  Just 4 days earlier I had driven through the top of a tree that was lying across the road as I came home one night.  I didn't see the tree as I rounded the curve & the headlights from the car in the oncoming lane kept me from noticing the obstruction in the roadway.

So, as I'm mulling through the morning's duties as I drive down this creekside road, I'm also looking for more possible downed trees.  What I didn't do was anticipate the sharp turn in the road soon enough.  So when I hit the brakes, the rain-slickened road didn't cooperate & I slid right into the guard rail of the bridge on the curve.  That shattered the lens & knocked out the turn signal on my car's driver's side & busted the fiberglass fender.  It also put a little bump in the hood & popped out the fender on the driver's side.

This all happened just 2 days after talking to some folks who will one day become my new employers & deliver me from the bondage of a job I've labored in for over 5 years with a trickle of money so show for my work.  And all I could think of as I stood on the dark roadway in the rain inspecting the damage was this was all I needed to start my day after having such a feeling of relief of what is on my horizon.

I got back in & continued the remaining 29 miles to work & stewed over how I was going to be able to shell out the cash for this on a car that I love to drive, that is paid for, that runs like a top, but that the insurance company will view as a used paper cup.  I'm brewing on how little money I do have, how little money I make, & how much my bills are.  I am just a few miles from Canaan (my victory) having just been delivered from Egypt (my enslavement) & now I'm stuck in the wilderness.

It is difficult to see a victory in this case because the wilderness can be so thick.  And I am close enough to Egypt that I'm tempted to just go back & continue in my bondage rather than stick it out through the wilderness & keep my focus on Canaan.  It is because I don't know what lies ahead but I do know what has been behind.  Just last week, I led a Bible study for some county inmates & told them that we cannot experience victory unless we've had a conflict.

And right now the conflict comes in the form of doubt & discouragement because I can feel the breath of Amalek on my collar.  Do I just turn around & go back to Egypt?  Do I sit down & remain stuck in the wilderness?  Or do I press ahead through the tangled mess in the wilderness & use the "rod" (similar to what Moses did in the wilderness), which is the Word of God, & keep walking toward Canaan?  Moses couldn't do it by himself.  He had to depend on Aaron (who represents prayer) & Hur (who represents purity) to hold up his arms in battle. 

I definitely need a victory & this perpetual pursuit by my flesh can either hold me back or help me savor that victory when I cross into Canaan.  The only way to achieve this is to give the battle to the Lord & keep walking through the wilderness.

Gabriel

There is always something that reminds me that we live in a fallen world.

My kids are enrolled in a Christian school because my wife & I would prefer that they be taught with Biblical values along with the understanding of today's culture.  It's not a Christian school that tries to shelter kids from the reality of life, but teaches kids how to deal with the reality of life.

That reality came alive this year when Gabriel entered into my oldest son's life.  Most kids at the school come from Christian families who seemingly have all their lives wrapped up in a pretty Christmas box with a red bow on top.  Gabriel, on the other hand, comes from a family where his parents have been in & out of incarceration.  His father is out west & his mom is back East--neither having a desire to see their son...much less have any involvement with his 9 year old life.  He, instead, spends his time with his mother's parents...not even having his own bedroom.

Gabriel (in the striped shirt) with Cameron & his friends.

Gabriel has had behavioral issues at school from calling other students (like my son) unkind names (like "idiot") to slapping/hitting other students (of which my son has also experienced).  He's had several warnings & visits to the office.  Last Friday, he was suspended for the day, which included his being unable to participate in the annual school Christmas program.  Remember, Gabriel is in 4th Grade.

Once, after an incident involving my son, a school administrator took Gabriel aside to talk to him about why he was acting the way he was.  The school official asked particularly why he was calling my son an "idiot".  He replied because "[he] has a dad & I don't".  When we told our son about this, he sobbed & exclaimed, "It's not FAIR!"

How's that for a reality check?

We decided to look this one-eyed monster in the face.  We've invited Gabriel to have a sleepover & spend a couple of days with us.  My oldest son actually made the initial move to ask if he could have Gabriel over.  We're going to make a trip to the annual The Miracle of Christmas production at Sight & Sound Theatre in Lancaster, PA.  Then the boys & I will get up early Saturday morning to go to our church's mens prayer breakfast before coming back home & do some sledding down our hilly front yard.  We found out that Gabriel really has no one to play with where he lives at his Grandparent's house.

We also told our son that he's welcome--if the subject came up--to "volunteer" us to be Gabriel's "adopted" family (and to "volunteer" me to be his "adopted" dad), if he wants.

In talking with Gabriel's grandmother as we set up his sleepover, we found out he also has a bedwetting issue.  No surprise considering the drama going on in his life.  So we certainly have our work cut out for us.  But this is what God commands us to do...  Even though Gabriel is getting some Godly direction at a Christian school, it doesn't stop there.  It takes involvement.  It takes living outside the box.  It takes risk.  And it may even cost something.

There are plenty other "Gabriels" that we may not even know or recognize...some that actually attend our churches or go to our schools.  Some may be in our own family.

It was the angel Gabriel who announced the Good News to the shepherds which we celebrate each Christmas season.  Will we be the ones to show the fruits of that "Good News" to all of the other "Gabriels" in this world?

In Perspective

I had a really great time taking my boys to our family's 49th annual Leslie Reunion in Arkansas this past Thanksgiving.  And we made it the whole 3,047 miles with no trouble at all in a car that rolled past 150,000 miles!  However as we were on our last "leg" of the trip, I began to hear sounds that told me some extensive break/rotor work was in store.

We got home & sure enough, the sounds got more noticeable to the point that I realized I could not go another day without getting this looked at unless I wanted to have some major automotive work done.  After hanging around the State College Firestone from 1:30-5:45pm on the last day of the month...a day that everyone was trying to get in for their last minute state inspections...I found out what I already knew.  I would need a brake/rotor replacement...to the tune of over $300.  That was the least they recommended.  I also need a brake flush & front-end allignment ($68 each) & some tires.

The good news:  Well, I did get in for repairs on a crazy day like it was, I used a $50 off ad & got another $20 off that because we qualified for a Firestone credit card (Oh, joy...another one).  But that got us 90 days of interest-free credit (so we could spread our payments out at just $90 over the 3 months...provided we could come up with the $90 somewhere).  So we made out with owing only $266.

But how many cars can one say they've been able to drive on an 8-day, 3,000+ mile road trip that has over 100,000 miles...with no transmission trouble, electrical trouble, engine trouble, alternator trouble....etc.?  And what price do you put on being able to reconnect with the only family you have that just happens to live over 1,500 miles away from you...and pass on a family tradition to your children?

I guess your answer depends on your perspective.

IDon'tWannaGoToJail, IDon'tWannaGoToJail!

It was a nice birthday treat out with the wife & kids, stuffing ourselves at the Texas Roadhouse. But it ended with a little doggie being rounded up for cattle rustlin'.

This is the hard part of parenting.

After dinner, stuffed with catfish, burgers, steak, & hot dogs, we made a trip to the local supermarket for some essentials & to pick up a few other items at the candy section. My youngest, Daniel, has a severe weakness for candy. He could live on candy. He has visions of sugarplums in his head every night...not just the night before Christmas.

We were picking through a heaping mound of loose "trial sized" candy bars for a project & kept fending off requests from both kids for candy. The boys have had more candy over the past week than they've had in weeks. And Mommy had decided they had "candied enough". We got what we needed & checked out, then headed for home.

We drove the 15 miles back to our house, turned into our development, & my wife realized she'd not heard a peep from Daniel. She was afraid he had fallen asleep on the ride home, like he's done in so many prior trips to town. She looks back in her rear-view mirror & asks if Daniel's okay...if he's awake. We hear a feeble, "yes. ...~sniff!~" Mommy asks what was wrong & was answered by a "You're gonna get mad at meeeeeeee!" that was splurted out by our little 2nd Grader.

So here we are 1/2 mile from our house wondering what the meltdown was about. Caving in from guilt, Daniel fessed up he had eaten candy he had lifted from that tempting mound at the supermarket. My wife looked as if she had heard him confess to an armed robbery. She stopped the car dead in the road, looked back at the criminal, & asked, "You, what??"

Daniel's older brother, Cameron, & I were then deposited onto our driveway when we arrived at our house whereupon "Sheriff Mommy, The Bounty Hunter" promptly put the "patrol car" in reverse to return the 7-year old felon back to the store to face the music. I last saw this trembling offender, looking pale as a sheet, saying over & over, "IDon'tWannaGoToJail, IDon'tWannaGoToJail, IDon'tWannaGoToJail!!" Sheriff Mommy had a twinkle in her eye as she drove off.

Meanwhile, as I walked upstairs with Cameron, he was appearing more & more anxious & finally asked, "Is Daniel going to 'juvie'?" I responded, "I don't know, Cameron. We've never had any of our kids do something like this." We got inside the house & he went straight to his room, buried his head in his comforter, & squawlled like a little girl.

Meanwhile, Sheriff Mommy on her way back to the supermarket, kept hearing her prisoner say, "IDon'tWannaGoToJail, IDon'tWannaGoToJail!" & the closer to the store they got, the more he began to make sounds like he was hyperventilating. At one point, he asked, "Am I going to have to go before The Judge?" Mommy couldn't say. He would just have to find out. Then the guilty robber began blubbering, "I can't do this, I can't do this, Mommy!" He was told, he should've thought of this before he kifed the candy.

Once at the store, Daniel was marched in & a manager was located. The culprit was taken to a back room. Sheriff Mommy made him spill the beans...er, I mean candy...to the store manager. Daniel bawled that he "couldn't help it because I like candy!!!!!" The manager, who was totally wonderful through the interrogation, explained to Daniel how that when items are stolen from a store, ultimately others must pay the price of this because the store has to raise the prices of their items to pay for the stolen ones. And this hurts their customers who don't have a lot of money to buy food. He was also told that the store has cameras that can see what goes on ...and others who have stolen items have been taken out in handcuffs.

After a near-death experience with The Law, Sheriff Mommy paid his bail (a total of 15 cents for the "hot" candy) & Daniel was let off with a warning.

When they arrived home, Cameron heard the garage door go up & he made a bee-line from his bedroom all the way across the house to the basement door (without even looking in the direction of his dad, who was standing only 9 feet away). He got to Sheriff Mommy's patrol car & swayed his head back & forth, trying to look for his brother, the outlaw. They were reunited & both learned a huge lesson.

As I tucked our paroled thief into bed & had him say his prayers, I asked if he was happy to go to sleep in his bed instead of the one at the jail. I got an emphatic "yes". I'm pretty sure, this will be a brush with the law that he will not soon forget.

And neither will Mommy or Daddy.

Or big brother, Cameron.

However, if it were I who was the arresting officer in this situation, I would've made a quick side trip to the Centre County Correctional Facility, that sits not more than 4 miles from our house, & tell my suspect in the back seat I may have to go inside to arrange for them to take in a new inmate. But Mommy didn't do that because she's a softie.

Identifying With a Bad Day

It's uncanny how similar my own personality is with my oldest son's. On many occasion I can see my early developing persona being lived out before my eyes. On one such occasion was this past Friday. As was the case over the past several years, I heard the bus pull up, the kids get off & the usual chatter coming up the steps into the house. Except this time I was hearing sobs.

I, meanwhile was "indisposed" & listened through the walls as what apparently was Cameron walking through the house as he "boo-hoo'd". My thought was that he either injured himself or something was said on the bus or by some kids outside as he got off the bus that upset him. Regardless of this he, & his brother, were supposed to be going through their "routine" of hanging up their backpacks, making their beds, & doing their other chores. A routine I had to physically supervise repeatedly 5 days a week, 9 months a year, for the past 4 years. And it was getting old.

When I confronted Cameron, his face was soiled with tears, contorted & red from his crying. He blurted out to me that he'll "never" get his Schoolastic books again. After conducting a brief investigation into what he was talking about, I discovered his very strict, old-fashioned 4th Grade teacher at Nittany Christian handed out those popular Schoolastic Book orders (I couldn't wait to get mine when I was in elementary school in Booneville, AR either), but told the kids they could not open their order "bag" until they got on the bus. It seems a lot would tear into their book order & not get the rest of their classwork done. Cameron, so wrapped up at the anticipation of getting to dive into his new books, left--again for the 2nd time--his homework folder & his assignment book at the school. This after having to sit out recess on the bench for doing the same thing the day before.

However, using surprisingly good self-control, he did obediently wait until he got on the bus to open his bag--only to find the teacher mixed up the bags & he got another student's order. Now, to him, this meant that his order went to another student who would probably toss his book order out the door into the trash & he'd never see it again. This realization deteriorated into a complete shut-down of his mental faculties & caused him to also leave his lunch bag on the bus for the weekend.

So now we have no homework, no assignment book, no lunch bag, & no Schoolastic Books...and Cameron was having a catatonic meltdown over it. He couldn't even get control enough to focus on getting his chores done either, which was lighting my fuse. This is a kid who gets side-tracked at the drop of a hat--which was exactly my problem at his age--and since this is an issue that's "close to home" with me, is an issue that I have little patience for. So, I erupt with a lecture on responsibility & dealing with disappointment, while demanding him to pull himself together & take care of his responsibilities at home.

After 10 minutes, he's still sitting on his unmade bed, in his bedroom that's strewn full of dirty clothes, toys, & books over the floor. I hit the roof & condemned him to his room for the weekend & he was to put his nose in the book he was reading so he could have it done in time to do his report on it at the end of the next week. No play, no toys, no TV, no this, no that. Just reading. I fully intended to use this weekend that Mommy would be away at a church women's retreat as one that I would teach him a lesson. He would stay in that room only coming out long enough to pee, poop, & eat.

I stormed back into the den to look over the homework papers my youngest son had brought home for review & began to think about how I would let one event unravel everything else that would happen in a day. I also thought about how smart Cameron is in that he really doesn't have to do much studying because he has a memory like a steel trap & has constantly come home with grades that were over the top. He even has scored so high that he now attends an "enrichment" class for gifted students. But it still gnawed at me that in spite of this kid's amazing academic ability, he would flunk on something as mundane as forgetting to turn in homework on time.

Once the storm blew through & things began to calm down a bit, and Cameron had spend a good 15 minutes silently reading in his room, all wrapped up in his comforter, it was as if the voice of God whispered in my ear, "Go sit with him. Don't do or say anything else. Just go sit with him on his bed while he reads."

After mulling over this suggestion, I walked into his room & asked him if he was feeling better. Looking up from his book he replied, "A little. I was just sad because you were yelling at me..." I sat down with him in his bed & he snuggled under my arm as he continued reading. After a few minutes he asked, "What are you doing?" "Sitting with you while you read," I replied. Then he continued to read on to himself. Several more minutes passed & he asked, "Dad, what is a 'lunch-ee-on'?" He had hit a word in his book he didn't understand. "That's 'luncheon'...it's like a fancy lunch," I said.

And this continued for the next several minutes, his occasional question on a word, & my answer, then silence. Finally I looked at my watch & he asked if he could go outside to play. I thought to myself, "oh, what the heck...we've all had a bad day" & replied to him, "Sure. You've read enough for today."

Shall We Gather At The River

It was a small, humble gathering along the banks of the West Branch of the Susquehanna River in Lock Haven where folks from our church, Big Woods Bible Church, gathered. There we witnessed the baptism of Daniel, my youngest son, who had made the choice a few weeks earlier of receiving Christ into his heart. At first, Daniel just wanted to be baptized because he had seen so many of his friends be baptized as well as his older brother, Cameron, who made a similar decision when attending kindergarten. I have been somewhat hesitant with Daniel because I know his cognitive understanding of things eternal is not as sharp as Cameron's.

I didn't want our Pastor to baptize Mario or SpongeBob. Daniel has quite an imagination. Instead, I wanted Daniel to fully understand why he was being baptized. Nevertheless, Daniel took it upon himself to approach our Pastor one afternoon following a church baptism to say that he wanted to be baptized, too. The Pastor assured that he would as soon as he had the chance to come over to the house to talk with him & me.

Daniel promptly informed me of this exchange of information & to let me know that "Pastor Ted" was coming to see us.

When we all sat down, Daniel, Pastor, & I, we began inquiring exactly what Daniel wanted. Daniel told us he had prayed to God a few months earlier. Pastor asked him what he told God. Daniel replied confidently, "I want to get baptized."

So we went through a simple presentation of what it meant to follow Jesus, as I tried to bring the salvation message to his understanding level. I said to follow God, he needs to promise God that he would try his best to live his life in a way that he would not "hurt God's feelings" by his actions...or by disobeying God. Baptism is a symbolic ritual that tells all those who witness it, that he has made a promise to God.....and if he did not actually make that promise to God, he would essentially not be telling the truth if he went through with baptism.

Daniel understood what this meant & agreed to pray with us to ask God to forgive him of wanting to act his own way instead of the way God wanted...and promised God that he would, indeed, try as hard as he could to please God with his actions so he would not hurt His feelings. There were a few tears as he understood the impact of the words he was saying to God. And after praying, he blubbered out, "But I still get in trouble in school!!" We both assured him that times like that will still happen, but now he has God's Spirit living in his heart now & he has help in being able to know the right way to please God.

Now, during a summer that has been unusually wet & cool, Daniel stood before some of his friends from his church & his family as Pastor Ted relayed how Daniel made the decision to follow Christ...and to be baptized. We weren't sure the event would happen because the rain had risen the river level & had made things a bit soft along the river bank. But we were able to scrape together a change of dry clothes, a towel, & a photographer (thanks to our fellow "Big Woodser", Traci Fotorny) & celebrate Daniel's decision to join a family far bigger than his own.

Oh, It's 2009 Already?

Wow, how time flies when you're distracted.  Yeah, new year...new stuff.  Good grief.  I can't believe a full quarter of the year has passed before I've left an imprint here.  Well, I've been preoccupied with kids, work, church, & Facebook.  I must say, Facebook has become my superhighway to staying in touch with folks.

A recent survey found that social networks have passed up email as the primary method of online communication.  I used to have a free account with places like Alumni.com (later Reunion.com...now MyLife.com) & Classmates.com.  But most all wanted me to pay for the ability to interact more with my former schoolmates.  Enter Facebook.  In a single year, my friends list mushroomed by 100+ as old friends (and I do not use this term loosely) reconnected....and it didn't cost me a dime.  So pardon my distraction.

At the same time I was getting some of these friend requests, my mind was faced with a quandary.  Why on earth did some of these folks decide to suddenly inquire about me?  I never seemed to strike up much of an interest with them when I was in high school.  Oh, sure.  I know there is so much drama in the juvenile world.  There is now, there was then.  But nevertheless my experience in my high school life wasn't all that stellar.  It was pretty blah.

Familiarity breeds contempt & by the time I had lived through a dozen years in my local public school system, there was plenty of contempt to go around.  I was not athletic (although you could say I was a great "athletic supporter") so I didn't fit in with the "jocks".  I wasn't talented enough to play an instrument, so I wasn't in the band.  I didn't get straight A's (or many B's either, actually) so I wasn't in with the school's Brain Trust.  So, that pretty much left me in the invisible crowd...not really paid much of mind to.

Add that to the frequent "butt of jokes", & what you have is a total disinterest in my high school life.  A lot of this started with my 7th Grade exposure to the school body.  At a pep rally...where all students (7th-12th Grades) were assembled in the local armory.  There, a "marshmallow eating contest" (or so they called it) to see who could consume the most amount of jumbo marshmallows that would be stuffed into one's mouth by the school cheerleaders (i.e. the snooty girls).

Well, what do you know?  Little ol' me was picked as one of the contestants to join the other half-dozen slouches to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of some 670 students.  We were blindfolded by our cheerleader then at the signal, I felt handfuls of marshmallows mashed into my face & I began trying to swallow as many as I could--all in the name of "school spirit".  The crowd was roaring with cheers, jeers, & laughs....  When it was over, & a "winner" was declared, we all had our blindfolds removed & were allowed to return to the bleachers.

I was met (along with the others who were called down) by kids laughing themselves silly, pointing at me & saying I needed to get to the bathroom to wash my face.  Somewhat confused, I made my way to the boys' room where, lo & behold, there I stood...my face blackened by powered charcoal...which had covered those jumbo marshmallows.  I looked like I had licked the fireplace completely clean.

All in the name of "school spirit".

As I said...such was par for the course.

After graduation, I departed for college--about 4 1/2 hours from my hometown.  It was there my social experience "matured" significantly.  And it was over those next 4 years I actually established friendships that would go on to last to this day...friendships that overshadowed those from the high school daze.

So, this is why it struck me as odd that now--some 30 years later on Facebook--that I'm suddenly getting requests from folks who went to high school with me.  What do I have in common with them?  With the huge gap in time between then & now, what has changed to the point that now I'm a person of interest?  In some regards, those same old feelings started to rise to the surface that I had while back in high school.  And in some way, I was faced with feelings of "why bother"?  There wasn't much there in regards to having any connection in high school....and so there was little to start anything further.  I felt like a tortise who was wasn't sure it was worth coming out of his shell.

So I decided, "what the heck?"  Let's see what happens.  It's a new century.  Maybe since "familiarity breeds contempt", then, "absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Time Warp

Well it's been a bit since I've sat down & put my thoughts on here. What happened since July? Geezh! Anyway, to catch things up: Letssee... The job...well, it's still there. No raise yet. But things are picking up. But I'm afraid there's gonna come a time where the boss is going to be given an ultimatum. I know they love the work I do, but I can't continue working at a place where I'm loosing money. We'll see.

We went to Disney World in Sept. The whole family...and the Mother-in-Law, too. It was my 2nd time but it was more fun watching my kids enjoy the "Happiest Place on Earth". And I'm absolutely just loving my church. I've not had a church family this awesome since my days in Jonesboro, AR while attending Arkansas State University as a member of Central Baptist. I have never felt more loved, accepted, & taught so well than at Big Woods Bible Church in Lock Haven, PA!

I went on my annual 2,874 mile trek to attend my family reunion over the Thanksgiving week, too. And I had the utmost pleasure of stayinig with 4 of my friends in the road there. It really re-impressed upon me how blessed I am to have such awesome friends as Geoff, Chuck, Lee, & Shawn (& all thier familes) who opened their homes to me & my 2 little "wild Indians" (yeah, I said, "Indians", so sue me, NCAA). And I was able to see my Aunt (my late Mom's sister) who was also able to see all my kids, my sister & her family...all at the same time. A real "once in a lifetime" happening. Plus, I lavishly ate all that greasy, Southern food cooked by my various cousins!

I guess since July, I've been most affected by a video that a friend sent me several weeks ago. I've shared this video with some in my church, many of my friends, & others who'll let me. I'm not one to spend a lot of time seriously speculating on future events. I mean, it's fun to just hear the variety of theories about the end times (and no, I've not seen nor read any of the Left Behind series) but I'm pretty skeptical about a lot of what folks have been saying.

Until I saw this video.

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Now, I'm no prophecy expert, but I have to admit that this is pretty amazing stuff. The notes and the charts that go along with this video are equally stunning.

I am not one to patently say that over this past November election we elected "The Antichrist" but I will say that I am seeing more signs of Biblical proportion that confirm in my spirit the fact that there is a very real possibility I could see the 2nd coming of Christ in my lifetime.

It's an anxious time...but for me it's an exciting time as well.

Bachelor again, sort of...

I've enjoyed a week of solitude & sobriety as my whole family was in NC seeing grandma...and I was left to hold down the fort. I ran around in my boxers, flushed the toilet only once, and ate directly out of the cereal box.

And I also paused by the doors of the 2 bedrooms where my 2 boys would normally be sleeping at night.

I also got into a king-sized bed that would normally be "pre-warmed" by my wife.

Yes, I enjoy returning to the bachelor life occasionally. But I would never want to go back to it permanently.

I read today that a dear friend of mine has experienced the tragedy of watching his infant grandson--just days old & suffering from heart & lung complications--pass away. Granted, there has been a huge void in the house with the absence of children's voices but I cannot fathom what my life would be like if it were like that permanently.

I recently read an email article from AllProDad.com about recognizing the miracle. It read:

Have your kids been getting on your nerves lately? Sometimes it’s helpful to step back and realize what a miracle they truly are. Once they were smaller than the period at the end of this sentence. Now they’re on a one-way locomotive towards adulthood and I only have a few precious years left with them. The time is short – too short to always be annoyed with their antics. Recognize one of the greatest miracles is who you tuck into bed every night.

My 2 boys know all too well the buttons they can push to get a rise out of me or my wife. And they do it with glee. But there's never a time I don't stop & think how blessed I've been from God that they are healthy & happy. And I've never stopped being utterly amazed at how precious life itself can be.

Bullheaded Leslie

My mom used that term a lot. My dad was one, his dad was one, & my dad's dad was one. All that bullheadedness got passed on to me. And I wear that mantel proudly. I gladly passed on those bullheaded genes to my 2 sons, too. And I want them to use it.

There's advantages to being bullheaded. For me, I never had to worry about peer pressure. I just wasn't going to go along with the crowd if I didn't want to. No one ever succeeded in getting past my bullheadedness to entice me to try drugs or sample alcohol. When I did eventually sample some wine coolers, I did it on my terms & kept my consumption regulated the way I wanted it. I never had a desire to move past wine (never had developed a taste for malt beverages) into hard liquor. And the only drug I ever take is either Sudafed or Chlor-Trimeton.

I'm bullheaded when it comes to what my faith is, too. I don't dislike other faiths nor do I think they are wrong. They are wrong for me, but maybe not for someone else. I also recognize that outside my own Southern Baptist faith, there are also people of other faiths who are wonderful, loving people. And I am proud - if not even cherishing - these folks who are in my life.

My brother-in-law is a practicing Catholic. I have as much in common with the Catholic faith as I would with chemical engineer. I find a smidgen of similarity between how I relate to God or how I interpret Scripture & how Catholics do. But I do not disparage nor look down on my brother-in-law for his beliefs, irregardless of how irrelevant they are to me.

While my family are members of a Southern Baptist church, my wife works for a United Church of Christ (UCC) church as their musician/choir director. I've been asked to teach SundaySchool there, be an usher there, & have been served Communion there. All of which I have graciously refused. Not because I want to be anti-social, but because I am bullheaded to the point that I am not a member there & I do not align my faith with theirs. I'm not trying to be unfriendly but consistent to my own church & faith.

Now here recently, we've sailed into some turbulent waters with the spiking economy, job uncertaincies, & the task of bringing up a family in the middle of it. My family have been scrapping & saving for over 36 months to pay for a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Walt Disney World (mainly for the sake of the boys). But since our committment to this began 2 1/2 years ago, our financial outlook has changed with the slumping economy & our stagnant paychecks. We've struggled as to what to do, all while looking longingly at that nest egg we've dubbed "the Disney money".

And throughout all of this, there have been some precious souls in the UCC church who have made "contributions" to the boys to help them "save for Disney" by giving them a couple of bucks here & there...sometimes slipping a $20 in a birthday card...or dropping a $50 into my wife's purse when she wasn't looking. But when things got a little uncertain at my job with the whole insurance issue & late paychecks, we obviously began asking for prayer.

That's when we started getting anonymous envelopes with $150 and the like. In fact, one elderly lady in the choir at the UCC church choir wanted my wife to assure her that the boys would, indeed, be given their promise of going to Disney World this year. And to help fulfill that promise, she would plop down $500 to pay for the gas to get there. I've been given cash, tucked inside a handshake, by some in the men's fellowship at the church where my family are members. All of this kind of runs against my bullheadedness.

See, I feel like I owe something to these who have been so generous. Especially to the ones at the UCC church. Yet I cannot allow my feelings override my reason. I don't go to a church because there are people there who feel led to help us along -- financially or otherwise. However, juxtapositioned to this fact, I can say I have as much love & respect for those in the UCC church as I would someone in the church where my membership resides. It's a fine line to have to walk, & heaven forbid it would cause offense. But I have to look beyond a faith made up of feelings & follow a faith made up of facts.

The fact is, while there are loads of beautiful souls that attend the UCC church, my loyalty does not reside there. My convictions do not mirror theirs. My faith is not practiced in the same way that their faith is practiced. But I would drop everything to help them if they needed it. At the same time, there are precious souls who are in "my church" who invest their time & their love by pouring themselves into the lives in my family.

Being bullheaded is not a bad thing...necessarily. It's actually the rudder in a sea of uncertainty.

5th Grade Games

I had quite the interesting casual chat with the man who owns the radio station where I'm employed. He's like talking to your grandpa who has a wealth of knowledge about everything in general, but not much on specifics. Basically, it's like trying to keep your eye on the ball of an aggressive game of handball.

The change of topics came as frequently as I took in each breath but one stuck in my craw. He asked if everything was okay with the company's insurance coverage. See, his wife (who actually holds the purse strings to the radio station) let it be known at a recent sales meeting that she intended to drop health coverage because of low sales & the tepid income the station was getting. Plus, she threatened to flip all of the 3 stations to a satellite music format & cut everyone's salary by 10%...and possibly include some lay-offs. Well, word of this certainly started spreading like wildfire to every staff member.

The next day, everyone got a form to sign with 3 options on the future of health care coverage. We could choose to have "no coverage" (and find our own health care plan), have a "conversion" (where we would keep our current plan, but we would deal with the insurance company directly instead of through our group plan...simlar to a COBRA), or "continue" with the group plan but have our premium deducted from our paycheck (to the tune of $166 per pay for me).

All but 2 chose "no coverage". The other 2 chose to continue the group plan with paycheck deductions for the cost of the premium. But there was one problem: The group plan would not be availible unless everyone continued. So, this presented a problem for the 2 staff members as well as for the station's owners.

This was what prompted my boss to ask for my feedback on the company's insurance situation. What he said next was the "kicker". When I told him we could not afford to have the premiums deducted from my paycheck, he told me I shouldn't "worry about the health care. We were just trying to get sales back up".

Huh?

So, you're playing little 5th Grade schoolyard games with my benefits, using it as a "bully stick" to wave at the sales staff? Where do some of these "bozos" get their management training? From a Cracker Jack box?

Needless to say, this did not convince me to change my mind on dropping the company's group plan. And it almost guaranteed that some staff members would be soon choosing another company to work for. And some have already been offered positions at a new job.

It would seem so simple to know how to properly manage, empower, & motivate a company's staff. A Dale Carnagie course, an Earl Nightingale book, a Dan O'Day seminar.... But instead, some choose the more childish route & think that this will inspire their employees to do better. What they end up with, however, is one very large hole in thier foot.

Report Cards

As a kid, I had such anxiety when report card day approached. It gave me twinges in my gut because I always had a feeling something would be terribly wrong. Usually, for me, it was in the "deportment" category... And when I'd get that card & find the teacher had written a "D" or an "F" in something, I knew that meant more grief when Mom & Dad saw it.

As a parent, I still get a bit twingy when report cards are sent home with my 2 sons. Except this time I don't have the anxiety... Instead, I get all weepy-eyed. When I see the progress they make & then read the comments from the teacher, it's hard to keep the lump down in my throat.

And especially as I go over each grade individually with each son, I have to put forth a lot of effort to keep my voice from cracking as I explain to them what the "adult terms" on their 2-3 page report card mean. Especially when they are given exceptional marks for things like "Exhibits Kindness" or "Looks out for others' needs".

There are areas where my boys need improvement (like their dad did), such as in "Handwriting", "Math", or in "Follows directions". But what really makes me swell up with joy overflowing is when they get the top grade for areas like politeness, generosity, sportsmanship, sharing, seeks the best in others, grateful attitude, truthfullness, respcts others, & the like. You may not be the best speller, but if you are respected by others & treat others with respect, that is what matters.

The longest-serving host of Meet The Press, the longest-running news program in the history of television, Tim Russert, died yesterday (2 days before Fathers Day). As I watched all of the news coverage of this man's legacy as a broadcaster, a father, & an individual, my oldest son was questioning what was happening. Again, fighting back emotions as I thought of his report card he got in the mail yesterday, I explained that this man had a reputation that was good -- honest, admirable, envied, and respected. And this is how everyone felt about him because of not how smart he was (even though he did have a law degree), but because of the way he treated others.

To not just know all the answers but to know good character. That is the essence of the report card that life hands you.

In Good Company

Since becoming involved in my new church, this has helped to bring some distraction to what is going on around me. I've been asked to more or less be the web administrator for the church's website & I've also started helping edit & compile a weekly prayer list that is emailed to members. But I've also seen how the people there have taken an active interest in my life & the concerns of my family. They have all reached out in some way or another. Just this past Saturday, at the church's monthly Men's Breakfast - as I greeted one of the guys - I felt crumpled paper pressed inside my palm as I shook the guy's hand. He had passed on a $20 bill saying how he felt led to bless us with some financial support.

Now I've been given money by concerned friends before, so this didn't really shake me up. I was certainly more than grateful for the surprise. What really made an impact was when he went on to say (as his voice quivered with emotion) how when he considered the distance I live from the church (27 miles) & our current situation (with our increasing expenses & static income) how much it blessed him to see me at events like the men's breakfast -- even while I faced the trials that has been going on recently in my life.

I'm an encourager by nature. I can never grow tired of encouraging another person in matters of the spiritual or emotional or whatever. So when I saw the impact of how my presence encouraged this fellow Believer, that was what really caused the twinge in my gut as he went on to share a little of his life story how God brought him through a tight financial situation he & his family faced.

But others have, too, freely given their encouragement to me as I wade through the slime of uncertainty. I've gotten dozens of emails, messages on my Facebook page, & other comments that have given me a good reminder that God still has things under control.

Picking up the boys, after their last day of school, from another parent's home (who volunteered to keep our kids until I got off work to save us from having to pay for daycare), I told the mom (who is a very vocal & passionate Assembly of God Believer) about our current situation as we followed the kids (hers & mine) across an open field so that they could have a quick float down Spring Creek before I took my boys home. Suddenly about half-way across this football field-sized meadow (surrounded by houses), she thrusts out her arm & grabs my shoulder & says, "Let's just pray right now!" So, as we walked along, she began praying loud enough for not only God but all of the neighbors to hear.

Feeling about as anxious as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, I just walked along & tried to look spiritual.

God love her. I know she really means well. And it did bless me that she felt so spontaneous. I guess sometimes, God chooses to shine upon us even if it does look conspicuous.

It's so good to know I'm in such good company.

Irresponsibility

I drove to work today not knowing if I would find my paycheck that was supposed to have been in my box before I left from work yesterday - payday. All I could think of was the words echoed from my Personnel professor in college that said if I was in a position of paying employees at a company I own, I should not expect a "thank you" from them when they get paid. They worked for me for 2 weeks (or more) without pay & they deserve getting their payroll check. AND, if for some reason, I could not meet my payroll, I should be responsible & first TELL my employees what was going on, then promise to compensate them for using their rightfully earned money for each day the checks were late. That meant paying compounded interest on their paychecks for each day I could not provide compensation.

Not so at my job.

Not only did I not get my paycheck by the time promised by my employer, but I got NOT ONE WORD as to what the status was about my pay, WHY it was that I was not going to get my pay, and WHEN I could expect to eventually get it.

I actually deliberated whether or not to even bother to get out of bed this morning at 3:30am. I have never given my employers anything to worry about when it comes to wondering if they will have anyone to show up to do a radio show. And I am not going to wonder if I will get paid on time or not. Therefore, why should I continue to give my employer such peace of mind? I sure don't have it.

I think this bitter pill would be easier to swallow if - at the very least - my employer would bite the bullet & approach me honestly & authentically to tell me the facts: That it is going to be a stretch at trying to meet payroll...and would I please bear with them. You would be amazed at the how far a little transparency goes with me.

What they have done, instead (by their silence & irresponsibility) is create an environment of bitterness, distrust, & they have under-minded employee loyalty. Something my college prof said I should expect from my employees if I ever betrayed their trust.

Time Out

I'm returning to the blogging desk after a brief reprieve. I haven't posted anything because I have been so preoccupied with life...and I really haven't had much of an opinion about much lately. But I have also been mulling over just how I want to utilize this online opine site. Many times I've stressed myself out thinking I must compose some lengthy, witty article as if I were having it published in the New Yorker or something. Well, I'm changing that. I think I'm going to just post whatever is drifting through my head at the time, whether it's a paragraph or a small novel.

Of late, I have been facing the fact that after a career in broadcasting that began in 1979, there may be a coming paradigm shift. I love radio passionately. I spent 4 years training for this career in college. Radio is all I've ever done. It sure doesn't pay well, but it is the most fulfilling job I've ever had. I've had other side jobs in retail & as a pizza delivery driver. But I've always had radio as my primary job. Now with iPods & online/satellite radio stations on the rise, local terrestrial radio is becoming a lost art.

I hesitate at moving away from a career that has been my entire universe for almost 30 years but I do not want to ignore the facts, either. As for now, however, I still remain on the fence, trying not to get a splinter.

Attitude Adjustment

When I was a senior in college, I took a course called "Advanced Broadcasting Practices I & II". It was "real life" in a functioning radio station -- namely, the 100,000 watt campus radio voice of Arkansas State University, KASU-FM. It had a very real and very vocal band of loyal listeners it had developed since going on the air in the 1960s. It gave broadcasting students a taste of reality in dealing with the media.

On the first day of class, my professor (who was also - at the time - the General Manager of KASU) spoke to us in our first & only classroom session. All future classes would be held within the KASU studio. He said something that I have never forgotten. He wanted to belay any assumptions anyone would develop over the course of the semester about his relationship with his students. He said that from that first day of class forward, until the last day of class, we were not to take anything person away from whatever he may say to us in class.

What's so big about that? He laid down what he wanted us to expect. He would be critical of our on-air performance, he would praise our accomplishments. And he would do it unbiased. So we were not to assume he was playing favorites amongst the students. It was a very valuable attitude adjustment for me as I studied under him. And from that day until now, I have had nothing but the highest respect for him.

But you know, so many folks do not stop to adjust their attitude like that. Instead, they muddle through life with the proverbial chip on their shoulder or have their expectations so high that they set themselves up for a big let down. There have been so many things I can recall my late father saying that have stuck with me. One of those is:

It's easier for you to change your attitude toward the world than for the world to change its attitude toward you.

If we really acted as if we believed that, it would be amazing as to how stress-free our lives would be. My dad used to listen to Earl Nightingale on cassette for several mornings at a time as he got ready for work. And many of what he passed on to me was what he gleaned from what he heard on these tapes.

He also took Dale Carnegie Courses, which eventually led me to find the book How To Win Friends And Influence People. A book that was an eye-opener for me. This also led me to find a book in my school library (back in the days such books as this were allowed in school libraries) called, The Power of Positive Thinking For Young People by Norman Vincent Peale. All were part of my attitude adjustment.

Nightingale's biggest success came from a gold record he received from the spoken word album The Strangest Secret. This was one of the tapes my dad listened to. In this talk, Nightingale stressed that we become what we think about. Now just think about that for a minute.....

When you begin to think that you are the target for some unfortunate circumstance, you are creating a monster inside of you that can grow as fast as any acute cancer inside your body. Country singer Don Williams released a song back in the 1980s that speaks to this kind of thinking:

I know all about black clouds,
There's one that follows me around
It may sound funny but somehow,
It only rains on me
It follows me almost everywhere,
And it seems it's hardly fair
People will stop and people stare,
But it only rains on me

I'll bet this won't hurt you much,
You'll find someone soon enough
I'm the one that loses in love,
It only rains on me
It's time we said goodbye and so,
I'll just take my cloud and go
Don't worry you'll forget I know,
It only rains on me

Chorus:
Broken dreams and drowned parades,
Lovers who just slip away
Guess I learn to live that way,
It only rains on me
Seems to me there was a time,
It used to rain on friends of mine
Now I look around and find,
It only rains on me

We base our expectations on a self-fulfilling prophecy we continue to perpetuate each time we tell ourself that this is how our life is. So, it just goes around & around like a dog chasing its tail. As the lyrics say, "Guess I learn to live that way", we condition ourself to expect the worst. We justify our behavior by saying that we're just trying to be realistic.

Realistic??

The first thing in being realistic is getting a good attitude adjustment. I start with saying that I live in the United States of America...not Utopia. I know that the way things should be, but the reality is that they're NOT as they should be. So I stop expecting that. This causes me to then focus on the little things in life that help life along rather than looking at life as a whole. I refuse to set myself up for a disappointment.

When I hold up standards so high that I get disappointed often, it caused others to be disappointed - if not frustrated - in the process. If I have a friend who I expect to call me frequently to just see how I'm doing & that friend doesn't do it, I get disappointed in that person & begin to think that this person really doesn't care at all for me. This angers me & begins to churn up feelings that may not accurately reflect reality. It may be that this friend is just plain absent-minded & really has so many plates spinning that nothing gets accomplished. He/she may feel bad that they don't stay in touch with their friends as often as they should. But my frustration with this person could play itself out in the form of a thought like, "You must not think much of me anymore since I've not heard anything from you." I may not say this to the friend, but that feeling has festered in my mind to the point that no matter what this person says about why they have neglected staying in touch with me, it would be filtered through my bias feelings toward that person.

Is that "reality"? Hardly.

However, if I just accept the reality that this friend is just absent-minded & really does have good intentions to stay in touch, but everything keeps getting in the way, I refrain from conjuring up feelings of neglect or rejection. So when I do see this friend, I am excited that at that moment we are able to connect & catch up on each other. I feel better about this friend, our relationship with each other, and this friend feels even more connected to me because I am not holding anything over their head.

Does this mean I turn a blind eye to the obvious? Absolutely NOT! Taking a positive approch to live does NOT mean I gloss over or ignore things in life that are NOT positive. There's a difference in turning a blind eye toward a negative situation & acknowledging the negative but choosing not to react to it.

This reality has given me such a lift in my life -- that I have control over what affects me....not the other way around. Another saying my dad used to quote was:

Think enthusiastic & you will be enthusiastic.

You can do this while you acknowledge the harsh reality of life but emphasize the positive side. And the strange thing about this is that I found when I took this approach to life, my change of attitude resulted in more people becoming at ease with me & this would provide me a better platform to talk about things that were not as positive. In other words, I became more approachable. It's one thing to let things bother you, but it's something different when you let others KNOW its bothers you. Yes, I believe there are times when I must vocalize my feelings...but do I have to do it with each instance? Or should I just pick my battles wisely?

Since I've come to live out the expectation that it is easier for me to change my attitude toward the world than the other way around, does this mean I have succumbed to a non-aggressive, wimpy mentality? Don't bet on it. I still have my same belief system. But I have allowed others to have theirs, too. I have written off any desire to try to change their belief or their lifestyle - until they feel like they need to include my opinion. In the meantime, I concentrate on finding ways to better connect with others. Finding ways to earn the right to speak truth into their lives.

I believe that if we all spent more time adjusting our attitude toward the world than expecting the world to change its attitude toward us, we may find that we're all pretty easy to live with. And that we could actually go through our lives genuinely trusting each other.

If These Walls Could Speak...

If these old walls,
If these old walls could speak
Of the things that they remember well,
Stories and faces dearly held,
A couple in love
Livin’ week to week,
Rooms full of laughter,
If these walls could speak.

If these old halls,
If hallowed halls could talk,
These would have a tale to tell
Of sun goin’ down and dinner bell,
And children playing at hide and seek
>from floor to rafter,
If these halls could speak.

They would tell you that I’m sorry
For bein’ cold and blind and weak.
They would tell you that it’s only
That I have a stubborn strreak,
If these walls could speak.
If these old fashioned window panes were eyes,
I guess they would have seen it all--
Each little tear and sigh and footfall,
And every dream that we came to seek
Or followed after,
If these walls could speak.

They would tell you that I owe you
More than I could ever pay.
Here’s someone who really loves you;
Don’t ever go away.
That’s what these walls would say.

They would tell you that I owe you
More than I could ever pay.
Here’s someone who really loves you;
Don’t ever go away.
That’s what these walls would say.

That’s what these walls would say.
That’s what these walls would say.

We pulled into the driveway at my old home at 215 Riviera Drive, Booneville, AR with my two sons in the back seat. "This is the house where Daddy grew up", I told the boys. As we got out & walked down the sidewalk, I saw the huge tree that spread its branches across the street. "Do you know who planted that tree?", I asked the boys. "It was your great Grandma Ruby". I had gotten yelled at by Grandma when I was not much older than my 2 sons because I was taking a running start & jumping over the top of the young sapling that was freshly planted.

We approached the door & rang the doorbell. A woman answered the door & I asked if I could show my kids where I grew up. Since she was not the owner of the house, she was not too eager to agree. However as we stood on the front porch, the rightful owner pulled into the driveway. She was a single mom who still remembered my parents - and had heard of me - since she graduated Booneville High just 10 years after I did. She eagerly invited us inside.

It was the first time I stepped inside the house in over 8 years. It was before my parents moved out & began living with my sister, who was in Columbus, OH at the time. I had not been able to be there when everything was unloaded into the moving van. I saw that the original front door was still there, as was the same carpet & the same linoleum flooring in the entryway & kitchen. The cabinets, too, were the same as I remembered, & even the bookcase & desk that my cousin built years ago were still attached to the far wall of the family room.

It was surreal to see all the familiar surroundings that contained unfamiliar furniture. I took the boys through the kitchen & out the sliding glass doors into the patio/garage. We walked into the back yard where there were a few less trees (which were the ones I had climbed so much that the bark was worn slick). However the old metal storage shed (where I had kept my dog) still stood with the names of my Dad, my step-Grandpa, & a family friend still etched in the concrete foundation. A tree now was on top of a tall stump from one of the trees that had been cut down.

As we made it back inside the garage, I told the boys of how I had been racing my tricycle up the driveway & into the garage where the slick concrete prevented my stop & I slid into Grandma Ruby, causing her to fall & break a rib. I showed them the ladder that was nailed to the interior garage wall that lead up to the attic crawl space where I would sit as my Dad retrieved Christmas decorations located farther back in the musty attic.

We went back inside where I took the boys into the long hallway into the bedroom where both my sister & I shared a bedroom during my early childhood. I told one of my boys to look on the inside of the bedroom door to find the hole I had punched in the door when I had gotten mad at my Mom & slammed the adjoining closed door into the bedroom door, causing the doorknob to bust through the wood. Yep, it was still there. I showed them the place where we had repaired the 2 holes I had kicked in the walls of the hallway because Grandma wouldn't let me go outside.

As we went up the hall, I pointed out the bathroom where I took baths as a kid, got ready for school, & the linen closet where I climbed into for the perfect hiding place when I would play "Hide & Go Seek" with my cousins who would come visit. Then we went to the master bedroom at the head of the hallway where my Mom & Dad had their bedroom & bath. It was in that room where my family all gathered on my parents' bed after my dad delivered the news of my Mom's diagnosis of a malignant tumor the doctors found in her breast. I saw my Dad cry for the first time in my life on that day, as an 8th Grader.

After that, we went into the living room where I pointed out the piece of ceiling tile that was replaced after I had been playing in the attic & my knee slipped in between the boards, punching out the original tile that fell onto the couch below.

Yes, the owner of my old house found out a lot of history about their home that day. The house had changed hands twice since my parents sold it. The current owner got the house for a steal since the bank had taken over the payments from the previous owners. The house had worn well. It looked really good for being build in 1965...when I was just 2 1/2 years old. It was where I spend 2 decades of my life. It held so many memories.

We went back outside to leave & I told the boys how when I was their age, my Dad (their Grandpa) used to stand on the sidewalk below while I ran & jumped off the porch into his arms. They wanted to do that, too. So, I stood where my Dad did & caught both of my sons in my arms, watching the same wide smile on their faces that I had on mine when my Dad caught me.

I remember getting a fancy Casio brand calculator in 9th Grade for my Christmas present that had the ability to enter dates & figure out the number of days between 2 dates. I remember sitting in class at Booneville High School, calculating how old I would be when the year 2000 happened. Turning 38 seemed to far away back then. Little did I know then that the year 2000 would be the year that my Mom would die from cancer that was first diagnosed in her breast back during the days when I lived in this house. And just 3 short years later my Dad would follow suit.

It was a wonderful feeling to let my children experience this vital aspect of my life...to let them have a taste of my life as a kid....to relive some of the wonderful memories that happened at this old house that has weathered the test of time. So many meals together as a family, so many daily Bible readings my Dad would do at breakfast before we all left for work & school, so many friends who would run through the rooms of this house. So many ups & downs that took place in that house long before my boys were ever even thought about.

Life goes on & it's good to see that so do the memories........