S4theD: Day 36

Ok, before you judge (I promise I'll let you once you hear me out!) I have to tell y'all why I liked this song in high school. Really I only have two reasons: 1) I thought it was pretty cool that Scott Stapp wrote this song after he found out he was going to be a father. I never thought of it as sappy, so I liked it. Nothing like Butterfly Kisses which I absolutely HATED! And 2) In 1999, Creed was one of the first bands to introduce classical instruments into pop rock. I was hooked the moment I heard this hidden track on their album Human Clay. Their blending of cello and violin with bass and electric guitar left me with a passion that only Apocalyptica, Mannheim Steamroller, Trans Siberian Orchestra and the like have been able to slightly remedy.

Ok, now you may judge.

With Arms Wide Open (Bonus Track)
by Creed

Well I just heard the news today
It seems my life is going to change
I close my eyes, begin to pray
Then tears of joy stream down my face

With arms wide open
Under the sunlight
Welcome to this place
I'll show you everything
With arms wide open
With arms wide open

Well I don't know if I'm ready
To be the man I have to be
I'll take a breath, I'll take her by my side
We stand in awe, we've created life

With arms wide open
Under the sunlight
Welcome to this place
I'll show you everything
With arms wide open
Now everything has changed
I'll show you love
I'll show you everything

With arms wide open
With arms wide open
I'll show you everything ...oh yeah
With arms wide open..wide open

If I had just one wish
Only one demand
I hope he's not like me
I hope he understands
That he can take this life
And hold it by the hand
And he can greet the world
With arms wide open...

With arms wide open
Under the sunlight
Welcome to this place
I'll show you everything
With arms wide open
Now everything has changed
I'll show you love
I'll show you everything
With arms wide open
With arms wide open

I'll show you everything..oh yeah
With arms wide open....wide open

S4theD: Day 17

Hold On
by Good Charlotte

This world, this world is cold
But you don't, you don't have to go
You're feeling sad, you're feeling lonely
And no one seems to care
You're mother's gone and your father hits you
This pain you cannot bear
But we all bleed the same way as you do
And we all have the same things to go through

Hold on, if you feel like letting go
Hold on, it gets better than you know

Days, you say they're way too long
And your nights, you can't sleep at all
Hold on
And you're not sure what you're waiting for
But you don't want to know more
And you're not sure what you're looking for
But you don't want to know more
But we all bleed the same way as you do
And we all have the same things to go through

Hold on, if you feel like letting go
Hold on, it gets better than you know

Don't stop looking, you're one step closer
Don't stop searching, it's not over
Hold on

What are you looking for?
What are you waiting for?
Do you know, what you're doing to me?
Go ahead, what are you waiting for?

Hold on, if you feel like letting go
Hold on, it gets better than you know

Don't stop looking, you're one step closer
Don't stop searching, it's not over

Hold on, if you feel like letting go
Hold on, it gets better than you know
Hold on

S4theD: Day 2

Babylon
by David Gray

Friday night I'm going nowhere
All the lights are changing green to red
Turning over TV stations
Situations running through my head
Well looking back through time
You know it's clear that I've been blind
I've been a fool
To open up my heart
To all that jealousy, that bitterness, that ridicule

Saturday I'm running wild
And all the lights are changing red to green
Moving through the crowds I'm pushing
Chemicals all rushing through my bloodstream
Only wish that you were here
You know I'm seeing it so clear
I've been afraid
To tell you how I really feel
Admit to some of those bad mistakes I've made

If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Babylon, Babylon, Babylon

Sunday all the lights of London
Shining, sky is fading red to blue
I'm kicking through the Autumn leaves
And wondering where it is you might be going to
Turning back for home
You know I'm feeling so alone
I can't believe
Climbing on the stair
I turn around to see you smiling there
In front of me

If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now

Babylon, Babylon, Babylon, Babylon, Babylon

Day 9: The house with the big open hall and stairs and lofty 2nd floor—D.E.R.

Some times all we have are memories. There are no left over tokens of a life once lived. There are no photographs to correct our idealistic recollections so who's to say our recollections are idealistic? But if we're honest, we'll admit it ourselves simply because we love recalling the memories so much.

So it is with a place I once called home. It was two houses after the apartment where I slept in the closet. While that was a fun adventure in and of itself and some thing that all my friends used to envy me for, it was the "log house" that was the headquarters for all my greatest youthful adventures.

If I were to guess, I would probably say that I lived in the log house from age 7 to age 12, give or take a bit of time that makes little difference as a youngster. My family and I stumbled into renting the "blue house" and then the log house from an older couple with children all grown and mostly married. A good portion of the family lived all around the homestead and helped take care of the family landscaping business. We were the only non-family members on the whole road, but from the start we were counted as part of the family. Mr. and Mrs. Goode were another set of grandparents to me. I played with their granddaughters, I biked and hiked with their grandsons, and I went to visit them up the gravel road whenever the fancy struck me just because I could. Mr. Goode's antique car collection was the reason for many trips to see him, I'll admit. They fascinated me. I couldn't tell you now what kinds of cars he had, other than a Pontiac LeMans that my grandfather sold him, yet the impression of their grandeur is still implanted in my memory.

The log house, back garden, surrounding woods, and the gravel road that lead down to the creek were a youngster's paradise. The traffic along the gravel road was pretty well limited to family and friends who trekked all the way to the end of the road to go to Mrs. Goode's (the daughter-in-law) hair salon, so even the road was free for the playing. It was that gravel road where I had my worst bike wreck to date—and the one I credit with giving me back issues I still have to this day. It was that creek at the end of that gravel road where I learned how to fish. It was those woods that introduced me to copperheads, tics, moss, ferns, deer, and dirt all of which I still have a firm respect for and fascination of to this day. It was that garden where I first got a taste of the joys of community life because it was there that I helped Mrs. Goode pick vegetables and it was there that hot air balloon flying overhead would hover to chat for a bit. But at the center of all these dear memories was the log house itself. I have yet to find as fun a home anywhere. From lay out to setting, it was the most unique log home I've ever seen or been in, and among the most unique homes in general I've ever seen. The best part about it was the open ceiling to the 2nd floor. To not have a ceiling your living room is pretty darn cool, but it was especially cool as a kid. On the 2nd floor there was room to walk along the outside of the railing and look down into the living room from all sides. That was the most fun part, because it was that advantage that spurred many a creative invention most of which involved pulleys and rope. I remember one ingenious design in particular that was an endeavor to help Mom get the laundry from the first floor to the second. After an attempt or two, the result of which was the tumbling and undoing of nicely folded laundry, I think it ended up working actually. But in the end the process took just as much time as carrying the load up the stairs!



And then there were the "nooks". My second favorite part of the log house. The down stairs nook I best remember for being where I set up my first punching bag. I had always wanted a punching bag for some reason and so I took the liberty of making one myself using old socks stuffed into a larger sock and, you guessed it, rope. I think I envisioned myself a boxer in the downstairs nook because I remember spending a lot of time with that silly stuffed sock on a string! The up stairs nook ended up being my indoor play place. I didn't spend half as much time indoors as I did out but that nook was the place where I kept my toys and whatever "valuables" I held dear as a kid. It was a little nook that went with the slanting of the roof and being too small for a door was partitioned off by a curtain instead. There was something special about that curtain for me, it was just substantial enough to provide some closure and a safe place to retreat to, but just sheer enough to know that the outside world was just on the other side.



I won't hesitate to say that that log house with the address of 2420 West Mountain Street was by far the best place I've ever lived. But I also won't hesitate to say that I probably think that simply because of the memories. Memories of a simpler time, a simpler place, memories of the innocence and adventure of childhood. Memories of many firsts: the first time I went fishing, the first time I got to drive a car, my first and only dog, MacGyver, whom we called Mac for short. There are some pictures, but mostly memories. Memories vague with age right along side memories vivid with idealistic recollection. All in all, they have become the tokens of a life once lived and a foundation for greater things to come.

Trans Siberian Orchestra

A friend gave me a Trans Siberian CD a few years ago and I was hooked from track 1. I've always had this thing for classical instruments being used in rock songs. Call me sentimental or progressive or whatever you want to call it, but I love merging worlds and merging mediums. Throw in a little creativity, a whole heck of a lot of talent, a light show so bright one needs sunglasses for a few numbers lest your eyes tear up like you was cuttin' an onion and you've got yourself the TSO.

Tonight's TSO performance has been long anticipated. Well, since last year really when I splurged and bought myself an individual ticket for the fourth row. I had never been to anything so showy in all my life. Still haven't. I say showy, but I insinuate classy.

This year I took my father so that he could appreciate the uniqueness with me. I took a few pictures with my camera phone and attempted a short video clip. But genius me forgot to take my phone off silent so there is no sound. Grrrr! And I thought it was such a brilliant idea too! Oh well, at least you can appreciate a bit of the dramatics if not the music. MERRY CHRISTMAS!



Disclaimer: Amateur footage. May cause nausea!

Slight Clarification

Ok, so I've already gotten a little flack for dissing Hallmark e-cards. Let me start out by saying that if you take the time to look there are some pretty good ones out there. Between the time I posted the last entry and this one I have sent out three Hallmark e-cards. So I am certainly not dissing them! I simply meant that there are times to send a quick note with a picture, and there are times to send more thought provoking animated messages. Thanks to a dear friend for making me clarify!

Bring Back iCards!

I'm sure I have had some kind of gripe with Apple in the past, but all possible complaints have been forgotten in the wake of the greatest travesty of all...no more iCards!!

Though I am saddened that I can no longer send a simple a-picture-says-a-thousand-words e-card to a friend to say I am thinking about them or to brighten their day, and though I hate to reduce myself to the gushy world of animated Hallmark e-cards, I do have to say that if this is my only complaint about a major computer company, I think life's going fairly well!

I Hate Change

Having been through a number of computers over the last couple of years, I occasionally stumble across old files from long ago. Today brings just such memories to light as I re-discovered my college graduation speech. It's pretty apt considering that just a few hours ago I declared today "I Hate Change Day". I'm posting this speech mostly so that I can continue laughing, but also as a reminder that change can bring about good things.

***************************

I hate change—loose change or life change.

When I moved to Franklin and started living on a college student budget, I some how got the idea to have two collection stations for my loose change—my truck and my little miniature-plastic-combination safe that I’m sure I stole from one of my siblings. Some how more of the change ended up in my truck. I have this suspicion, looking back, that that was the case after I discovered how well loose change worked with the Wendy’s $.99 menu or the Sonic half-price-drink schedule. I still found myself grimacing any time I had to put change in my pocket and wait to deposit it in one of my two “accounts”—Oh, but when you taste a lemon-berry slush from Sonic—it’s Heaven!

Dave just moved back to Franklin this year to finish up school. In January he succeeded in kind of speeding up the process of the whole wedding thing. Some day, hopefully, in the near future maybe he and Danielle will be blessed with a family. But for now, he’s wrestling with being a practical Trinitarian visionary—along with our friends, the Graysons—and is planning to put his incredible wisdom and Moral Philosophy skills into rigorous action by joining with Robbie to reshape Stone Table Tutorial.

Kristin “joined the club” this year and was a bit apprehensive about how she would be received. Which is not surprising because it seems anything relating to Der sometimes has a reputation for being a groupie sort-a thing. But with her help, I think we’ve dispelled all notions of cliquishness. Kristin was dissatisfied with her college education. I’m sure that more than once it put her on the brink of tears because she knew there was something more—something richer. When she came to Bannockburn, we all knew she had found it. And we all became the richer for it. In the course of this year, Kristin too has found herself in a tizzy of wedding preparations. She and Alan, though, must wait until July, which gives them a few more months to eagerly anticipate the changes that the coming weeks and months will bring. Seminary in Jackson, MS is Alan’s call and thus is Kristin’s call at this time in life. They too, Lord willing, will in the future be blessed with a family of their own.

It was a hectic day for all three of us some weeks ago when I felt like starting a deep conversation—some thirty seconds before class was to start, I’m sure. “I hate change.” And in that thirty seconds as I read the faces of Dave and Kristin, the expressions said and unsaid seemed to reveal the same thought.

It seems that each year the following year is looked forward to only with anticipated dread. We’ve looked at this year of changes that the three of us have experienced together, and though we’ve grimaced quite a few times, we wouldn’t exchange it for the world. We’ve all had the thought that there’s no way next year can get any better than this. But in that 30-second-right-before-class-deep-discussion time, we realized that we had at one point or another said that last year and the year before and most likely each year previous—“There’s no way next year could be any better than this.”
But it can be, and most likely will. Though the unforeseen is a bit more frightening at some times than others, and though the mere idea of change will continue to make us grimace, we will continue to be reminded that our callings are sure because we’re investing in something so much bigger than ourselves. We may have to wait to deposit our loose change—Oh, but when you taste of the glories of God’s covenant plan—it’s Heaven!

Lil Markie

None of my office friends have posted this yet so I feel that it is my calling to share this wonderful tid-bit of 80's-Baptist-mullet-loving evangelism. Keep watching. I got bored at first too but then the jaw dropped.

Point A to Point B. (Amendment)

How could I have forgotten the two day whirl-wind trip to North Carolina equaling 920 miles. So, I guess that brings my total month-long traveling millage up to a whopping 4,515 miles.

I have never been happier to report such mind-boggling news from the comfort of my very own bed in my very own home!

McCan Can

Todd Burleson (1965-2008)

My friend, mentor, teacher, and former headmaster has gone Home. My heart aches for my own loss but more so for the loss in Natalie, Austin, Dylan, Christian, Mary Claire, Jackson, and the rest of the Burleson family's lives. But at the same time--how ever feebly acknowledged at this stage in grief--my heart also rejoices in that Mr. B is celebrating that imperishable, undefiled, and unfading inheritance kept in heaven for him, while in the presence of Life Himself.

The last time I saw Mr. Burleson face to face we were talking about what my calling as a teacher might look like in the future. Well, really he was talking about that. My little mind was busy scheming about the possibility of he and his family moving to Franklin so that he could become headmaster of FCS! He always did bring out the most random and conniving of my visionary traits.


Mr. B was a man of diverse passions, yet firmly grounded and marked by substance. He had a way of always bring a person's central focus back to the heart of Christ and the gospel without Sunday School moralisms or religious cliches. His sincerity and honesty were a large part of what made him so endearing. That...and his smile. I have seen no bigger, more warming smile in my life, and the laughter that would often accompany was always infectious. Despite of his enormous depth--or perhaps in light of--Mr. B was especially down to earth. He was the kind of man that would let you be an honorary member of the boys basketball team because there weren't enough girls to have your own team. He was the kind of man that would help you out when you were trying to make his last name into an acrostic just so you could forever remember that the "e" goes after the "l" and not before. He was the kind of man that was content being the second choice of a group of students who really wanted the unavailable Dr. Grant to participate in their 40 hour project, and he still didn't complain when we then subjected his Vaselined face to a paper mache masking endeavor!

It is because of all these things that I know about Mr. B that my prayer for his family is that their unutterable grief, in the loss of so great a trophy of God's grace, will soon be turned into a joy inexpressible and full of glory.

Kriegel on Favre

One of my favorite sports writers on one of my favorite sports figures:

Kriegel on Favre

So Long, Brett!