A Sense of Time

In the wake of 9/11 there was much publicity, much puzzlement, and much pain. It was a saga that seemed would never end. A wound that seemed too deep to heal. In the midst of the chaos and confusion there were those who just wanted to do something. So as a part of that action taking number my friends and I, hundreds of miles away from the scene of the terror, piled into a couple of cars and went to our local Red Cross.

There was the obvious humanitarian connection to be made that "giving blood saves lives". There was also the variant philanthropic twist that even though we here in the Nashville area were so far away, we too could do something to aid the people of New York City. At every turn, with every click of a remote there was the in-your-face realization that death and suffering are real and a part of life in this poor fallen world.

We all had varying degrees of fear and hesitation as we reclined, feet propped up, to give blood. A lot of us had never given blood before. Most of us didn't like the idea of that knitting sized needle actually staying in our arms for 10-15 minutes! But as I layed there--having never willingly given blood--time stopped. Yes, the nurses continued scurrying around tending to the hundreds of donors. Yes, the news channels carried on with their live coverage and up-to-date reports. But in that few seconds when time stopped only for me I came to a life altering realization: "This will be over in 10 minutes."

It was the first time in my life that I had a real sense of time. The "AhHa" moment that told me "this too shall pass" but in a way that I finally understood. It was an unpublished realization that couldn't be comprehended by the humanitarian connections and the philanthropic twists. It was a truth that couldn't ever be adequately broadcast by the media.

The next time I felt real, emotional, disparing, hopeless pain I realized that, though it may not be over in only 10 minutes, the hurt would eventially be alleviated and the hope would eventially return. I began to ask myself questions like, "Will I still be reeling over this in two months?", "Will I even think about the turmoil in a year's time?", or "Will things look brighter in the morning?"

Though I'm not sure that I agree with the old addage "Time heals all wounds", I am quite sure that time makes them more bearable. And a genuine sense of how fleeting time is brings with it both a caution against waisting time in sorrow, as well as a hope that with time there will be fresh starts and happier moments. This truth has caused me to relish moments of great contentment and happiness all the more, being thankful that, even though this too shall pass, this time is here at least for the moment and is a beautiful reminder of the eternal hope to come.

A New Interpretation of Genesis 1

I've never been big into forwarded e-mails but recently I recieved one that I just feel needs to be shared. It goes along with the humor theme I love so much! Enjoy!


In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth and populated the Earth with broccoli, cauliflower and spinach, green and yellow and red vegetables of all kinds, so Man and Woman would live long and healthy lives.

Then using God's great gifts, Satan created Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream and Krispy Creme Donuts. And Satan said, "You want chocolate with that?" And Man said, "Yes!" and Woman said, "and as long as you're at it, add some sprinkles." And they gained 10 pounds. And Satan smiled.

And God created the healthful yogurt that Woman might keep the figurethat Man found so fair.

And Satan brought forth white flour from the wheat, and sugar from the cane and combined them. And Woman went from size 6 to size 14.

So God said, "Try my fresh green salad."

And Satan presented Thousand-Island Dressing, buttery croutons and garlic toast on the side. And Man and Woman unfastened their belts following the repast.

God then said, "I have sent you heart healthy vegetables and olive oil in which to cook them."

And Satan brought forth deep fried fish and chicken-fried steak so big it needed its own platter. And Man gained more weight and his cholesterol went through the roof.

God then created a light, fluffy white cake, named it "Angel Food Cake," and said, "It is good."Satan then created a chocolate cake and named it "Devil's Food Cake."

God then brought forth running shoes so that His children might lose those extra pounds. And Satan gave cable TV with a remote control so Man would not have to toil changing the channels. And Man and Woman laughed and cried before the flickering blue light and gained pounds.

Then God brought forth the potato, naturally low in fat and brimming with nutrition. And Satan peeled off the healthful skin and sliced the starchy center into chips and deep-fried them. And Man gained pounds.

God then gave lean beef so that Man might consume fewer calories and still satisfy his appetite. And Satan created McDonald's and its 99-cent double cheeseburger. Then said, "You want fries with that?" And Man replied, "Yes! And super size them!" And Satan said, "It is good"

And Man went into cardiac arrest. God sighed and created quadruple bypass surgery. Then Satan created HMOs.

Dry Wit

This is my kind of humor. The subtlety. The profundity. The stupidity. Oh, the irony! It's the kind of humor that people roll their eyes at when they hear it come from me. THIS did not come from me, but oh how I wish I could take the credit!

Get it? "Doctor" and "pepper"!

Pistol Pete

I took a look at these videos and the first thing that came to mind was, "Damn he was good!" I had forgotten how good. As a kid I wore out my VHS copy of The Pistol movie. I got his basketball camp videos from the library. I'd go in spurts of either sleeping in my basketball shoes or sleeping with my basketball. And then there were the times I'd sleep with both. Oh, and them there was the "life sized" basketball pillow. White socks. I don't think I wore anything but white socks until I was a senior in high school! I learned the pistol ball control drill. I could dribble between my legs. Hook shots were always a little hard for me but that never stopped me from trying. Except for maybe when my coach benched me 'cause I kept trying in games. And then there was the LSU Pete Maravich basketball card my father dished out the bucks to buy me when I was about 12. Still have it.

I've just gotten one of the recently released books on Maravich called The Pistol that I'm planning to start this weekend. I'll let you know how it goes, but until then enjoy watching the man's incredible art!

Deep Roots

“Because the soul has such deep roots in personal and social life and its values run so contrary to modern concerns, caring for the soul may well turn out to be a radical act, a challenge to accepted norms.”
—Thomas More

“All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring; renewed shall be blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king.”
—J.R.R. Tolkien

Dreams

I've been known to make stories out of a few of my craziest dreams. Mostly the vivid I-feel-like-this-is-real dreams. Oh, and the dreams that I can actually remember that vividly when I wake up! Here is another one. Rather short. But some times I have to wonder, on what level of sleep-induced oblivion do my neurological impulses actually account for such notions as logical and realistic? At any rate, I give you a swimming dream involving my dear friend Brianna (who is by no means as illogical as the story portrays her).

The pool was huge, like nothing I’d ever seen before. Brianna picked up on what her team was all excited about way before any of the other teams or the judges even. Half the crowd surrounding us in the stands picked up on it at that point as she enthusiastically tried to explain to me the move her team was trying to make.

Water filled the entire pool complex. There were no lanes, flags, or diving boards. The bleachers, walkways, and slides all either were themselves or were supported by inflatable objects. The excitement spread like wild fire once Gardner-Webb scurried and scrambled to send their swimmer down the slide before the hosting team picked up on what was going on. Brianna explained in all sincerity—as if it were some common mishap they should have realized and capitalized on long before—that there was a rule the hosting team’s facilities can only be located a certain place within the state.

The crowd was more than a little obvious now about its suppressed loud whispers of intrigue and excitement as Gardner-Webb’s swimmer skipped taking her mark and shot down the inflatable slide quicker than a greased turnip on a hockey rink! As she reached the slightly upwardly curved end of the slide, the swimmer flew into the air with obvious signs that all poise and form where to be abandoned at that moment for the simple goal of hitting the water as soon as possible. That being the case, it was the most well executed belly-flop I had ever seen.

According to Brianna the rule was simple, once you catch an obvious oversight of the rules—like the hosting team’s facility being in the wrong part of the state—then if you get one of your team members into the water before the hosting team figures it out they are disqualified.

The judges were all in agreement. The hosting team was disqualified. Gardner-Webb won by a belly-flop!

WAPPY WEW WEAR!

The craziness of January has swept me off my feet. Quite literally. I feel that right now—this more-than-30-seconds-of-sitting-down-by-myself time—is my new years. Here in the sounds of silence, it has just now hit me that it's time to start afresh, begin anew, anticipate what is to come. I was too loopy during bed rest last week to realize there was a new beginning, but now I'm longing to take full advantage of it.

Years and months are good times to start anew. The beginning of the week is even a good place. But why not start on a Wednesday! The day of the week that is the hardest to spell. The day that falls right in the middle of the work week when you can't say you're starting a new week but you can't quite say you're finishing it either. The only day that starts with a "W"—shoot, there aren't even any months that start with "W"! Speaking of "W"...The day (right nowish really) that "W" is giving a presidential speech. The day after House and American Idol.

Yes, today is my New Years celebration. So here's to Wednesdays! May they ever be wild, wondrous, witty, whimsical, warm, welcoming and whistle-worthy!

Incarnate Gifts

A balloon that says “I’m Sorry”, a cold drink, a photograph of sunshine, a note on Durrer stationary, not just a regular but an autographed CD, a tall vanilla latte. These are the tangible. These are the physical manifestations of an inner gratitude that would otherwise go unacknowledged.

What if God had simply desired to save His creation and yet done nothing about it? Christ is the tangible. Christ is the physical manifestation of an inner desire that would have otherwise gone unacknowledged.

We give the gifts of incarnation because The Gift of Incarnation was given to us.

One Body, Many Members—Romans 12:4

”By using the example of the body, Paul teaches that it is impossible for any one of us to do everything on our own, for we are members of each other and need one another. For this reason we ought to behave toward one another with care, because we need each other’s gifts.” —Ambrosiaster, Commentary on Paul’s Epistles

I have only begun to understand this concept within the last few years—more like year and a half really. I never thought of myself as having the narrow minded view that we are all called to the same task in life, but I was called on it whenever I complained to Der a long while back about a mutual friend. I don’t remember exactly what I said, nor exactly Der’s response, but the idea and the chastisement hit home. It was basically this, “Don’t criticize other people for having a different calling than you.” I didn’t even know what my calling was at the time, but I remember not being too pleased that our friend was not conforming to the educational mold that he had sought to put himself under. An equal arrogance on my part was in thinking Der would care or agree.

The second most important aspect in my journey of learning about the Body of Christ—in all its diversity—is walking so closely with friends and community. I see their strengths, I see their weaknesses, and I’ve begun to see how it is we all fit so well together. We complement each other’s gifts, we hold in check each other’s weaknesses, and often step in to aid when one or the other of us doesn’t have the capabilities of another.

Pelagius, in his Commentary on Romans, was right:

”For as individuals we could not have had all the gifts, for then we might have become proud….Nor could we all have the same gift, for then the likeness of the body of Christ would not be present among us.”

AaaaaaaaaHhhhhhhhh........

I've been told I need to write more. That I need to lower my standards and just do it. That I shouldn't wait for divine inspiration. That my little sister writes more than I do in an average e-mail. That my mama wears army boots. Wait, no body told me that.

Truth me told, I have been writing a little. In a Moleskine not on a blog. I've been doing a verse by verse study of Romans 12, chewing it over, then writing reflections. I thought about sharing on here, but thinking doesn't always materialize into tangible action.

I also wrote a little bit on my evolving view of country music. I'm beginning to respect some of it. Some, mind you. But I will have to post those thoughts another day.

And then there's my documented wrestlings with a new side job. Also in a Moleskine. Back issues of which are likely not to be published on here, but future thoughts very well could be. I dunno, what do you think about grant writing?

I'm currently in Charlotte, North Carolina--in a hotel. Never in my life did I picture myself in a hotel in Charlotte. A house maybe, my house even, but it's a little weird coming back as a visitor to this city that I lived in (or around) for...how many...ten years?

There, these are my thoughts. I have been writing. But I've been doing more thinking about writing than actual writing. So now I've done it. I've lowered my standard and just done it. I haven't waited for divine inspiration. I have now written at least as much as my little sister in one of her average e-mails.

And just for the record--my mama doesn't wear army boots.