It's been a few days since I blogged.
For those of you who read regularly, I apologize.
I have failed you.
In my defense, I pretty much told you in my very first blog that I would fail you.
Why did I fail you? Good question.
It has been a very busy week for us:
1. We have put together a crib and a dresser for our second child - who is due on June 7th.
Let me clarify...when I say "we", I mean "me". My wife is highly pregnant and asking her to help me put a crib together would just be cruel. No, while I was doing that, she was pressure-washing the roof (don't freak out, it's a one-story house and I took my headphones off to listen for "thuds" every 25 minutes). She's fine.
I'm going to be honest, though...I'm not a very good craftsman when it comes to putting furniture together. I had just about finished the dresser - and was ready to put the drawers in - when I realized that the middle section had been installed upside-down. 30 minutes (and several deep breaths) later, I had corrected the problem.
I also made the boneheaded decision to put the crib together in our bedroom (so that I wouldn't wake Ava up), only to realize that I couldn't get it out of the room once it was built.
After a futile plea for Brooke to allow our child to just live in our room with us, I just had to disassemble that thing and take it out one piece at a time...Johnny Cash-style.
2. I installed shelves in Ava's closet, so that we have more room for Greta's inevitable mountain of belongings.
I had never done this before, but I will have to say that I did a pretty good job with this task. Those shelves are pretty sturdy. I took a nap on one of them while I was supposed to be working.
3. I made a trip to TN for my Grandmother's surgery. She had a shunt put in to drain fluid from her brain. She is recovering in a nursing home and we hope that she will be able to go back home soon. Time will tell. Please keep her in your prayers.
4. I went to the midnight showing of The Avengers on Thursday night with my friend (and fellow Avenger-wanna-be) Drew Taylor.
We went very early and I drew sketches of super heroes for 3 hours while we waited for the movie to start. I gave them away to various people and they seemed pleased.
By the way, the movie was awesome and I would highly recommend it. I'm actually going to see it again tonight with another friend. Plus, Disney really needs my money. They're struggling.
5. My parents visited this weekend for Greta's baby shower on Sunday.
We had a great visit. They brought Ava a little shopping cart and some plastic groceries (which almost match the texture of the ones we buy at Wal-Mart, ironically) and she has been crashing it into the walls and furniture ever since. I think we'll wait a few more years before we let her start driving the car.
I know what you're thinking: "You will be waiting 16 years before Ava drives!"
Yeah, right. Like anybody actually follows that rule. The child can open my phone already...she'll be driving by the time she's 8.
6. We had a Senior recognition banquet after worship last night to honor two of our Seniors who are graduating this year (congratulations Emma & Rachael:); I was in charge of making the video for that.
There are so many things that I could focus on, but I think I'll focus on something that all of the above seem to have in common.
We need to get ready.
Of all the things in this life that we need to prepare for - babies, death, movie premieres, visits from parents, graduation, etc. - eternity is certainly the most important.
How much time have we spent in the past week getting ready for that?
The tricky thing about eternity is that it could begin at any time.
- We waited 8 months to get our child's crib & dresser built because we knew we had 9 months.
- I waited until the day of the surgery to visit my Grandmother because I knew when the surgery was going to be.
- I put off doing the Senior video for several weeks because I knew that I had time to wait.
- I didn't clean the guest room for my parents until Saturday, because I knew they weren't coming until then.
- I went to the theater on the day of the movie premier because Brooke wouldn't let me go a week early (I realize that this one doesn't help me prove my point, but I'm just keepin' it real).
My point is that we usually procrastinate, don't we? And it doesn't usually get us into too much trouble.
Eternity is different. We could be in LOTS of trouble if we aren't prepared for that.
So pick up your Bible, read the instructions, and make sure that you're following them as closely as possible...
And if you've put something together upside-down, it's not too late to fix it:)
Monday, May 7, 2012
Monday, April 30, 2012
"She ate WHAT?"
"Ava just ate frog poop. Should I call poison control?"
This was an actual text message that I got from my wife this morning...word for word.
Many questions run through your mind when you get a text of this nature. For example:
- "How much frog poop did she eat?"
- "How hungry is a child who will eat frog poop?"
- "What will be next on the menu...a spoonful of ant bed?"
- "Is frog poop considered poisonous or just inappropriate?"
- "Would poison control make fun of me for making that call?"
- "Did she enjoy it?"
- "Did you detain the frog for questioning?"
- "Frogs poop???"
I think Brooke decided to do what Poison Control inevitably would have told her to do (and what they tell EVERYONE to do when they get a call like this):
"Just have her drink lots of water."
Evidently the cure for 99 out of 100 poisons is simply tap water.
Who knew.
I'm really not sure who to direct my disappointment towards in this situation. Here are my options:
1. My wife - I could direct my disappointment at Brooke for allowing this to happen. Where was she during the ingestion? Was she sipping a beverage? Was she sunbathing? Was she talking to some of her "good-timin' buddies" on the phone? Inexcusable. After all, I NEVER make mistakes with my children and I expect her to maintain that flawless record when I'm gone. I'm even thinking about writing a book called "Perfect Parenting Perfected by the Pates". Also, we all know that women who are 8 months pregnant can pretty much take any kind of criticism that you throw at them with poise, grace, and understanding. This is option #1...
2. My daughter - I could direct my disappointment at Ava for eating frog poop. This is simply not the expected behavior of a 16-month old child. I have to think about the future. If she can't be more mature than this, what is going to happen to her when she is out of our home? She will end up on the front page of the paper, with the headline: "18-Year Old 'Crazy' Breaks Into Local Zoo With a Fork & Is Caught Red-Handed Knee-Deep in Elephant Dung". I can't have that blight on my family name. This is option #2...
3. The frog - I could direct my disappointment at the frog for leaving his poop in my back yard. It's really his fault entirely, come to think of it. I have been very clear with the frogs about this matter. They are always welcome to visit our back yard, and even to visit our back porch, but they are not - under any circumstances - to defecate. I have put up small signs in all four corners of the back yard that say "Hey Frogs...NO POOPING!" Some may say, "Frogs can't read", but I believe that they're being naive. Kermit didn't get that smart being illiterate. This is option #3...
4. Myself - I could be disappointed in myself for allowing this to happen. If I were only a better husband, father, and frog-poop-preventer, we wouldn't be in this mess right now. I need to look into the mirror. I need to make this a family priority. We need to attend some lectures on frog behavior. I need to make bigger signs. I need to patrol the back yard at night with a flashlight and a baseball bat (just to threaten them...not to kill them). There is so much I could do to make sure that this never happens again. I am the problem. This is option #4...
5. The Neighbors - Where were they during this fiasco? I know there's a fence separating us, but what kind of neighbor lets that stop them from stopping their neighbor's kid from eating frog poop? What a pitiful display of neighboring. I should really report them. I would never let their child eat frog poop. I would jump the fence, punch the frog, and save the day. That's the kind of neighbor I am. This kind of thing never would have happened in the 50's. Our culture has just become so desensitized to these things. This is option #5...
6. Our Culture - This is really the problem. If we didn't live in a culture where frogs were allowed to poop freely wherever they please, and neighbors were allowed to live at an obscene level of delinquency, this kind of thing would have been stamped out decades ago. It's the internet's fault. If people weren't "surfing" and "texting" all the time, this kind of thing would come to the forefront. I'm pretty sure Bill Maher had something to do with it too. How about some legislation on this issue? How many kids will have to eat frog poop before the government gets involved? Two? Five? A million? These are difficult questions to answer.
Obviously, no one is to blame for this incident. Sometimes kids just eat frog poop and it's no one's fault. Why do we always feel like we have to blame things on people? When something bad happens; when our feelings are hurt; when a mistake is made; we tend to analyze and point the finger at someone. It must be someone's fault.
We do this in our families, at work, in sports, and even in the Church. We create blame for things that God would probably rather see us overlook or forgive.
As far as I know, Ava is fine. She isn't sick and she will live to eat something weirder another day. So I think I'll just get over it and move on.
I suggest that we all do the same.
This was an actual text message that I got from my wife this morning...word for word.
Many questions run through your mind when you get a text of this nature. For example:
- "How much frog poop did she eat?"
- "How hungry is a child who will eat frog poop?"
- "What will be next on the menu...a spoonful of ant bed?"
- "Is frog poop considered poisonous or just inappropriate?"
- "Would poison control make fun of me for making that call?"
- "Did she enjoy it?"
- "Did you detain the frog for questioning?"
- "Frogs poop???"
I think Brooke decided to do what Poison Control inevitably would have told her to do (and what they tell EVERYONE to do when they get a call like this):
"Just have her drink lots of water."
Evidently the cure for 99 out of 100 poisons is simply tap water.
Who knew.
I'm really not sure who to direct my disappointment towards in this situation. Here are my options:
1. My wife - I could direct my disappointment at Brooke for allowing this to happen. Where was she during the ingestion? Was she sipping a beverage? Was she sunbathing? Was she talking to some of her "good-timin' buddies" on the phone? Inexcusable. After all, I NEVER make mistakes with my children and I expect her to maintain that flawless record when I'm gone. I'm even thinking about writing a book called "Perfect Parenting Perfected by the Pates". Also, we all know that women who are 8 months pregnant can pretty much take any kind of criticism that you throw at them with poise, grace, and understanding. This is option #1...
2. My daughter - I could direct my disappointment at Ava for eating frog poop. This is simply not the expected behavior of a 16-month old child. I have to think about the future. If she can't be more mature than this, what is going to happen to her when she is out of our home? She will end up on the front page of the paper, with the headline: "18-Year Old 'Crazy' Breaks Into Local Zoo With a Fork & Is Caught Red-Handed Knee-Deep in Elephant Dung". I can't have that blight on my family name. This is option #2...
3. The frog - I could direct my disappointment at the frog for leaving his poop in my back yard. It's really his fault entirely, come to think of it. I have been very clear with the frogs about this matter. They are always welcome to visit our back yard, and even to visit our back porch, but they are not - under any circumstances - to defecate. I have put up small signs in all four corners of the back yard that say "Hey Frogs...NO POOPING!" Some may say, "Frogs can't read", but I believe that they're being naive. Kermit didn't get that smart being illiterate. This is option #3...
4. Myself - I could be disappointed in myself for allowing this to happen. If I were only a better husband, father, and frog-poop-preventer, we wouldn't be in this mess right now. I need to look into the mirror. I need to make this a family priority. We need to attend some lectures on frog behavior. I need to make bigger signs. I need to patrol the back yard at night with a flashlight and a baseball bat (just to threaten them...not to kill them). There is so much I could do to make sure that this never happens again. I am the problem. This is option #4...
5. The Neighbors - Where were they during this fiasco? I know there's a fence separating us, but what kind of neighbor lets that stop them from stopping their neighbor's kid from eating frog poop? What a pitiful display of neighboring. I should really report them. I would never let their child eat frog poop. I would jump the fence, punch the frog, and save the day. That's the kind of neighbor I am. This kind of thing never would have happened in the 50's. Our culture has just become so desensitized to these things. This is option #5...
6. Our Culture - This is really the problem. If we didn't live in a culture where frogs were allowed to poop freely wherever they please, and neighbors were allowed to live at an obscene level of delinquency, this kind of thing would have been stamped out decades ago. It's the internet's fault. If people weren't "surfing" and "texting" all the time, this kind of thing would come to the forefront. I'm pretty sure Bill Maher had something to do with it too. How about some legislation on this issue? How many kids will have to eat frog poop before the government gets involved? Two? Five? A million? These are difficult questions to answer.
Obviously, no one is to blame for this incident. Sometimes kids just eat frog poop and it's no one's fault. Why do we always feel like we have to blame things on people? When something bad happens; when our feelings are hurt; when a mistake is made; we tend to analyze and point the finger at someone. It must be someone's fault.
We do this in our families, at work, in sports, and even in the Church. We create blame for things that God would probably rather see us overlook or forgive.
As far as I know, Ava is fine. She isn't sick and she will live to eat something weirder another day. So I think I'll just get over it and move on.
I suggest that we all do the same.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Just A' Swingin'...
If you don't know by now, Brooke and I have a 16-month old daughter named Ava (and one on the way in June named Greta).
It's one of those infant swings where we buckle her in, so there's no way she can fall out of it as long as we use it properly (At least, I think so.)
She also prefers for me to push her from the front, since she can't see me when I stand behind her. It's a little tougher to push from the front, but I do it because I love her (and because she cries if I don't).
The other day, as I was swinging her, she closed her eyes, leaned her head back and smiled as big as I have ever seen her smile. She did that for several minutes. It almost made me cry (which is something I'm much more prone to do now that I have children, for some reason).
She was so happy and secure in that swing. Not a care in the world.
I think it was because she knew that her Daddy was right there. She knew that I was watching over her and that I was going to keep that swing going. She knew that there wasn't anything bad that could happen to her in that moment.
She was at peace.
In contrast to that...
Ava often wants me to swing her on the "big girl swing", which is a regular swing - right beside the other one - with only the rubber seat and the chains to hold on to.
A little later on the same day, we tried the "big girl swing", with Daddy holding her hands onto the chains and swinging her back and forth. Well, I thought I had her.
Until I didn't.
As I swung her back, she slid off of the seat and out of my grasp and fell - face down - onto the grass. She wasn't hurt, but she certainly wasn't "at peace."
She began to cry (it was a slow-building, gradual cry, because I don't think she knew if she was hurt or not) and I picked her up and held her close to me as she recovered. When I put her back down, she walked over slowly to the "big girl swing" and when she got to it, she quickly turned her back, yelled "No!" and ran the opposite direction.
She hasn't wanted back on that swing since.
See, even with Daddy's help, she isn't ready for that swing yet.
I'm grateful to God for giving me my children because I am already learning so many valuable lessons by being around them.
1. God understands us, even though our words & prayers must seem like "baby talk" to Him. Aren't you glad of that?
2. We are at peace, and we are truly secure when we are close to our Heavenly Father; when we realize that He is in control and that He will take care of us; when we are in our proper place and we are watching for His guidance in our lives. It's a great place to be.
3. We get into trouble, though, when we try to do things that we were never meant to do, things that are dangerous, or things that we're not ready for yet. We should realize by now that even God won't stop His children from falling from time to time, so that we can learn which "swings" are safe.
4. A good father doesn't stop his children from making mistakes (he knows that he can't), but he comforts them while they recover, and he helps them learn from those mistakes.
5. I am too big for either one of the swings in my backyard.
What a rip-off.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Fortune Cookie Faith...
First of all, I don't believe in the idea of a small, rather bland cookie with a slip of paper in it being able to predict my future. Let me make that perfectly clear at the outset.
But I do like fortune cookies. And it ain't because they're so delicious and satisfying. Because they aren't. They just seem lazy to me, as desserts go.
Did all the owners of the Chinese restaurants just get together one day and say:
"These Americans really seem to like their dessert, but I just don't feel like making any. What do you guys think we could do?"
"What if we just fried up a little cookie for them and wrapped it in plastic?"
"A cookie? You mean like, chocolate chip?"
"Not really. That's too much work. Maybe just some generic batter. And we could fry it up so hard that it could potentially crack their teeth."
[the restaurant owners nod, approvingly]
"I like it. Especially the cracked teeth part. How big would it be?"
"Maybe the size of a big moth?"
[grumbling is heard in the room, especially from the big-boned man in the corner, who is munching on a pecan pie]
"Hmmmm. I don't think they'll go for that. They like big cookies in this country."
"Ok...I got it...how about we put a slip of paper inside each one of them that predicts their future."
[optimism resurfaces]
"I think you might be onto something. But what if they figure out that we don't know what we're talking about?"
"We'll be vague. And we'll put numbers on the other side of the paper. And we'll give them as many as they want."
[thunderous applause ensues]
"Meeting adjourned. Now fire up the grease, get out your typewriters, and let's whip up some dessert!"
Why do I like fortune cookies, if it isn't for the taste? Because they make for good conversation.
Brooke and I almost always read our fortunes and discuss them with each other, if only to make fun of them. They can be the catalyst for hours of interesting dialogue...
"What does your fortune say, Brooke?"
"It says, 'Your winning personality will take you far in the near future.' What do you think that means?"
"I guess it means that you should hitchhike home and we'll find out if this is legit. If you smile real big and get a ride, then we need to buy a case of these things and start paying attention."
"Seriously? You'd let me do that?"
"Oh, don't be silly. Of course not. Only for a couple of miles. I'll wait for you at the Best Buy."
"But I'm pregnant!"
"That's right. I forgot. I'll make an 'I'm Pregnant' sign for you to tape to your belly and that way none of those 'crazies' will pick you up. And you should walk really slow down the highway...you know, because of the baby."
[Obviously, this is a joke conversation. I would never let my wife do this without having her phone with her]
Think of this, though: what if fortune cookies WERE for real? What if the information on that slip of paper actually had the power to predict what was going to happen in our life?
Would we pay more attention to them? Would we discard them so quickly? Wouldn't we spend hours, maybe even days, trying to decipher how they applied to our lives?
One of the most under-utilized parts of my faith is probably meditation. There are sections of Scripture that could fit into a fortune cookie - they literally only take seconds to read - but they require hours of meditation to truly comprehend and apply. They are powerful pieces of truth, packed with implications for my life - if only I will allow them the time to soak in.
How much more deeply would the Bible penetrate into our minds and lives if we simply thought about it more? There is a place for reading/studying large portions of God's Word in one sitting, but I believe there is also a place for taking one verse (or one PART of a verse) and simply thinking/meditating about it all day.
Praying about it and asking God to help you understand it.
Having conversations about it with your friends and family.
Asking questions about it to people you respect and trust.
Looking at it from different angles.
Applying it to your life...today...right now.
The Bible is a big book and it can be intimidating, but if we will break it into manageable sections and give it time to affect us, we will see its true power.
"For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart." - Hebrews 4:12
Think about that for a while:)
But I do like fortune cookies. And it ain't because they're so delicious and satisfying. Because they aren't. They just seem lazy to me, as desserts go.
Did all the owners of the Chinese restaurants just get together one day and say:
"These Americans really seem to like their dessert, but I just don't feel like making any. What do you guys think we could do?"
"What if we just fried up a little cookie for them and wrapped it in plastic?"
"A cookie? You mean like, chocolate chip?"
"Not really. That's too much work. Maybe just some generic batter. And we could fry it up so hard that it could potentially crack their teeth."
[the restaurant owners nod, approvingly]
"I like it. Especially the cracked teeth part. How big would it be?"
"Maybe the size of a big moth?"
[grumbling is heard in the room, especially from the big-boned man in the corner, who is munching on a pecan pie]
"Hmmmm. I don't think they'll go for that. They like big cookies in this country."
"Ok...I got it...how about we put a slip of paper inside each one of them that predicts their future."
[optimism resurfaces]
"I think you might be onto something. But what if they figure out that we don't know what we're talking about?"
"We'll be vague. And we'll put numbers on the other side of the paper. And we'll give them as many as they want."
[thunderous applause ensues]
"Meeting adjourned. Now fire up the grease, get out your typewriters, and let's whip up some dessert!"
Why do I like fortune cookies, if it isn't for the taste? Because they make for good conversation.
Brooke and I almost always read our fortunes and discuss them with each other, if only to make fun of them. They can be the catalyst for hours of interesting dialogue...
"What does your fortune say, Brooke?"
"It says, 'Your winning personality will take you far in the near future.' What do you think that means?"
"I guess it means that you should hitchhike home and we'll find out if this is legit. If you smile real big and get a ride, then we need to buy a case of these things and start paying attention."
"Seriously? You'd let me do that?"
"Oh, don't be silly. Of course not. Only for a couple of miles. I'll wait for you at the Best Buy."
"But I'm pregnant!"
"That's right. I forgot. I'll make an 'I'm Pregnant' sign for you to tape to your belly and that way none of those 'crazies' will pick you up. And you should walk really slow down the highway...you know, because of the baby."
[Obviously, this is a joke conversation. I would never let my wife do this without having her phone with her]
Think of this, though: what if fortune cookies WERE for real? What if the information on that slip of paper actually had the power to predict what was going to happen in our life?
Would we pay more attention to them? Would we discard them so quickly? Wouldn't we spend hours, maybe even days, trying to decipher how they applied to our lives?
One of the most under-utilized parts of my faith is probably meditation. There are sections of Scripture that could fit into a fortune cookie - they literally only take seconds to read - but they require hours of meditation to truly comprehend and apply. They are powerful pieces of truth, packed with implications for my life - if only I will allow them the time to soak in.
How much more deeply would the Bible penetrate into our minds and lives if we simply thought about it more? There is a place for reading/studying large portions of God's Word in one sitting, but I believe there is also a place for taking one verse (or one PART of a verse) and simply thinking/meditating about it all day.
Praying about it and asking God to help you understand it.
Having conversations about it with your friends and family.
Asking questions about it to people you respect and trust.
Looking at it from different angles.
Applying it to your life...today...right now.
The Bible is a big book and it can be intimidating, but if we will break it into manageable sections and give it time to affect us, we will see its true power.
"For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart." - Hebrews 4:12
Think about that for a while:)
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Swamp People?
I bought the first season of "Swamp People" on DVD a few weeks ago because it was on sale for $5 at Target and because I was bored.
I finished watching the last episode last night while Brooke was asleep.
What if I told you that, after watching that show, I think I could hunt alligators now?
It seems like all you really have to have is:
1. A boat
2. A cooler full of rotten meat
3. A line with a hook at the end of it
4. A gun (preferably loaded)
5. A cigarette hanging from your mouth (which may be optional...I hope so)
6. The ability to nickname alligators ("Godzilla", "Big Head", etc.)
OPTIONAL REQUIREMENTS SEEM TO BE:
- A strained relationship with your son/stepson
- A wife that you should probably be terrified of
- A propensity to fry pretty much everything you eat
- A pair of white rubber boots (really...white?)
- At least three missing teeth (in the front, preferably)
- One shirt.
I think I can do that.
I know some people with boats that I could borrow.
I have a cooler (and I think there's still some rotten meat in my fridge).
I can buy a line and a hook.
I have a gun.
I don't smoke, but I can make sunflower seed-chewing look pretty gross.
I can nickname alligators. Check these out..."Pee Wee", "Mrs. Butterworth", "Al Pacino", "Seth", etc. (I told you I could do it).
That's all there is to it, right? Wrong. The biggest part of alligator hunting (as far as I can tell) is being brave enough to do it (or being completely stupid enough to do it...either way, I'm not).
You wouldn't catch me in one of those boats unless you knocked me out with the boat oar and dragged me in while I was unconscious.
I wouldn't go near an alligator on purpose unless my wife or child was in danger (and even then, I'd try to negotiate from a distance first).
"Please don't hurt my wife or child, alligator."
"Hisssssss"
"Can we at least talk about it?"
"Hisssssss"
"I really think you're being unreasonable."
"Hisssssss"
"All right, that's it. I'm calling my lawyer. Don't move."
No, I really enjoy watching other people hunt alligators on my television screen, safely tucked under my covers while I bite my nails. But that's about it.
Alligator hunting, as I understand it, is not a spectator sport. You are either out in the boat, setting lines & dragging in alligators...or you're not. WATCHING it doesn't mean much of anything and it certainly doesn't prepare you to get out there and do it yourself. I don't think you'd get much respect from the actual alligator hunters just from watching their show either.
Christianity is similar. Although there are lots of people "on the sidelines" who seem to enjoy watching other people following Jesus, they aren't actually doing it themselves. They are observers. They are spectators. They are the audience. Christianity/religion is just a "show" that is for them to watch when they feel like it. They enjoy it, and they might even consider themselves to be a part of it. But they aren't.
Why? Because I said so? No, because Jesus said so. You see, no one can take up my cross and follow Jesus FOR me. No one can worship my God FOR me. No one can go through my life, making the difficult decisions and growing in my faith FOR me. No one can raise my kids to love the Lord FOR me. In short, no one can obey God FOR me.
It is not something you can watch and automatically be part of.
It is something you must live.
Many treat Christianity/the Church/Jesus like an episode of "Swamp People". We know enough about it that we can talk fairly intelligently about it (for example, I know that the "kill spot" on an alligator is a quarter-sized spot on the back of the head...they have told me that approximately 53 times on that show), but we simply aren't doing it.
On judgment day, there will be some who will be lost...not because they don't know a lot ABOUT God/Jesus/the Church/etc., but because they never did anything WITH that information.
So - metaphorically - get up early, put on your white rubber boots, kiss your terrifying wife goodbye, and go hunt some alligators!
Feel free to leave the cigarettes behind. Those things'll kill you.
I finished watching the last episode last night while Brooke was asleep.
What if I told you that, after watching that show, I think I could hunt alligators now?
It seems like all you really have to have is:
1. A boat
2. A cooler full of rotten meat
3. A line with a hook at the end of it
4. A gun (preferably loaded)
5. A cigarette hanging from your mouth (which may be optional...I hope so)
6. The ability to nickname alligators ("Godzilla", "Big Head", etc.)
OPTIONAL REQUIREMENTS SEEM TO BE:
- A strained relationship with your son/stepson
- A wife that you should probably be terrified of
- A propensity to fry pretty much everything you eat
- A pair of white rubber boots (really...white?)
- At least three missing teeth (in the front, preferably)
- One shirt.
I think I can do that.
I know some people with boats that I could borrow.
I have a cooler (and I think there's still some rotten meat in my fridge).
I can buy a line and a hook.
I have a gun.
I don't smoke, but I can make sunflower seed-chewing look pretty gross.
I can nickname alligators. Check these out..."Pee Wee", "Mrs. Butterworth", "Al Pacino", "Seth", etc. (I told you I could do it).
That's all there is to it, right? Wrong. The biggest part of alligator hunting (as far as I can tell) is being brave enough to do it (or being completely stupid enough to do it...either way, I'm not).
You wouldn't catch me in one of those boats unless you knocked me out with the boat oar and dragged me in while I was unconscious.
I wouldn't go near an alligator on purpose unless my wife or child was in danger (and even then, I'd try to negotiate from a distance first).
"Please don't hurt my wife or child, alligator."
"Hisssssss"
"Can we at least talk about it?"
"Hisssssss"
"I really think you're being unreasonable."
"Hisssssss"
"All right, that's it. I'm calling my lawyer. Don't move."
No, I really enjoy watching other people hunt alligators on my television screen, safely tucked under my covers while I bite my nails. But that's about it.
Alligator hunting, as I understand it, is not a spectator sport. You are either out in the boat, setting lines & dragging in alligators...or you're not. WATCHING it doesn't mean much of anything and it certainly doesn't prepare you to get out there and do it yourself. I don't think you'd get much respect from the actual alligator hunters just from watching their show either.
Christianity is similar. Although there are lots of people "on the sidelines" who seem to enjoy watching other people following Jesus, they aren't actually doing it themselves. They are observers. They are spectators. They are the audience. Christianity/religion is just a "show" that is for them to watch when they feel like it. They enjoy it, and they might even consider themselves to be a part of it. But they aren't.
Why? Because I said so? No, because Jesus said so. You see, no one can take up my cross and follow Jesus FOR me. No one can worship my God FOR me. No one can go through my life, making the difficult decisions and growing in my faith FOR me. No one can raise my kids to love the Lord FOR me. In short, no one can obey God FOR me.
It is not something you can watch and automatically be part of.
It is something you must live.
Many treat Christianity/the Church/Jesus like an episode of "Swamp People". We know enough about it that we can talk fairly intelligently about it (for example, I know that the "kill spot" on an alligator is a quarter-sized spot on the back of the head...they have told me that approximately 53 times on that show), but we simply aren't doing it.
On judgment day, there will be some who will be lost...not because they don't know a lot ABOUT God/Jesus/the Church/etc., but because they never did anything WITH that information.
So - metaphorically - get up early, put on your white rubber boots, kiss your terrifying wife goodbye, and go hunt some alligators!
Feel free to leave the cigarettes behind. Those things'll kill you.
Monday, April 23, 2012
DO YOUR JOB!!!
If you're offended by the word "poop", please do not continue reading...
What do you do with a product that is no longer doing its job?
We bought Arm & Hammer's version of a Diaper Genie when Ava was born (16 months ago) and it is no longer functioning properly [which is most likely the understatement of the millennium on however many galaxies we have now].
Let me put it this way: if this thing used to be called an "Arm & Hammer", it has now turned into a "Limp Wrist & Wet Noodle". The "Arm" is officially in atrophy and the "Hammer" has fled from the blistering odor of my child's poop.
This is a product that supposedly masks the smell of dirty diapers and keeps your baby's room smelling fresh and clean.
It does not do that anymore.
Not by a long shot.
Our child's room reeks of poop diapers. Every single time I walk in there I feel like I'm being punched in the face by poop. I'm not trying to sound gross, but if you're going to get my point, I must be frank about this.
The smell of poop has saturated the room.
I believe that close inspection will reveal that the blue walls of Ava's room are slowly turning brown. I believe that if I ran my finger along the inside of the faux Diaper Genie, I would have a finger-full of goo that smells exactly like fecal matter. I'm pretty sure that if I walked into her room with my mouth open and inhaled deeply...I would be knowingly committing suicide.
I honestly think that a grown man (let's say Mike, from "Swamp People") could use the bathroom (#2) directly into the Diaper Genie...multiple times perhaps...and it wouldn't smell any more like poop than it does right now.
Brooke can't even change the diaper bag anymore because she is afraid that she will pass out, drop our child, bang her head on the corner of the changing table, and wake up after a fecal-induced coma that has caused her to miss Ava's 4th birthday party.
"Mommy! Wake up! I got a new bicycle!"
I really don't understand it. We have put fresh baking soda into that thing several times; we have regularly changed the bags; we have kept the lid closed; we have sprayed enough air freshener in that room to disinfect a cow pasture; we have even put air fresheners INSIDE the diaper genie (which I'm pretty sure it has eaten).
What do you do with something that was supposed to HIDE the smell of poop and is now RADIATING it?
What good is it?
It is now a glorified, poop-scented trash can.
You might say, "Jeremy, why don't you buy a new one?"
I'll tell you why.
Because I already bought that one.
And I'm mad at it.
At this point, I think our child's room would smell less like poop if we just got rid of the Diaper Genie-knock-off and just started smacking the poop diapers against the wall and letting them dry and harden there.
Strangely enough, this reminds me of something that Jesus said once. He said that His followers were the "salt of the earth" and the "light of the world". That means that we have a very specific job to do that no one else can/will do.
We are supposed to be different. We are supposed to "flavor" and "illuminate" our sinful and fallen world.
So what happens when Jesus' followers are no longer doing their job? Probably the same thing that happens when my diaper pail quits doing ITS job...we become completely worthless.
These are basically the words that Jesus uses for us when we stop being "salt" and "light" in a tasteless and dark world. We are good for nothing. We might as well be thrown into the garbage. Read Matthew 5:13 and tell me that I'm exaggerating.
Not only is my diaper pail NOT doing its job...but it has now taken on the odor of the one thing that it was supposed to improve.
Not only have some Christians stopped proactively following Jesus, but they look, act, talk, and "smell" like the very world that so desperately needs them to be different.
It is damaging, disobedient, and quite frankly...disgusting.
Why don't we stop pretending that filling ourselves with "dirty diapers" isn't going to change the way we "smell"?
Why don't we stop pretending that as long as we have the right "label", we are doing our job, as Christians?
Why don't we take an honest look at ourselves, as followers of Jesus, and ask whether or not we are destined for the garbage?
Something to think about...for all of us.
By the way, I've got a well-used, broken-in, semi-dependable Arm & Hammer diaper pail that I'm trying to sell...cheap.
Do you think I should've mentioned that first?
What do you do with a product that is no longer doing its job?
We bought Arm & Hammer's version of a Diaper Genie when Ava was born (16 months ago) and it is no longer functioning properly [which is most likely the understatement of the millennium on however many galaxies we have now].
Let me put it this way: if this thing used to be called an "Arm & Hammer", it has now turned into a "Limp Wrist & Wet Noodle". The "Arm" is officially in atrophy and the "Hammer" has fled from the blistering odor of my child's poop.
This is a product that supposedly masks the smell of dirty diapers and keeps your baby's room smelling fresh and clean.
It does not do that anymore.
Not by a long shot.
Our child's room reeks of poop diapers. Every single time I walk in there I feel like I'm being punched in the face by poop. I'm not trying to sound gross, but if you're going to get my point, I must be frank about this.
The smell of poop has saturated the room.
I believe that close inspection will reveal that the blue walls of Ava's room are slowly turning brown. I believe that if I ran my finger along the inside of the faux Diaper Genie, I would have a finger-full of goo that smells exactly like fecal matter. I'm pretty sure that if I walked into her room with my mouth open and inhaled deeply...I would be knowingly committing suicide.
I honestly think that a grown man (let's say Mike, from "Swamp People") could use the bathroom (#2) directly into the Diaper Genie...multiple times perhaps...and it wouldn't smell any more like poop than it does right now.
Brooke can't even change the diaper bag anymore because she is afraid that she will pass out, drop our child, bang her head on the corner of the changing table, and wake up after a fecal-induced coma that has caused her to miss Ava's 4th birthday party.
"Mommy! Wake up! I got a new bicycle!"
I really don't understand it. We have put fresh baking soda into that thing several times; we have regularly changed the bags; we have kept the lid closed; we have sprayed enough air freshener in that room to disinfect a cow pasture; we have even put air fresheners INSIDE the diaper genie (which I'm pretty sure it has eaten).
What do you do with something that was supposed to HIDE the smell of poop and is now RADIATING it?
What good is it?
It is now a glorified, poop-scented trash can.
You might say, "Jeremy, why don't you buy a new one?"
I'll tell you why.
Because I already bought that one.
And I'm mad at it.
At this point, I think our child's room would smell less like poop if we just got rid of the Diaper Genie-knock-off and just started smacking the poop diapers against the wall and letting them dry and harden there.
Strangely enough, this reminds me of something that Jesus said once. He said that His followers were the "salt of the earth" and the "light of the world". That means that we have a very specific job to do that no one else can/will do.
We are supposed to be different. We are supposed to "flavor" and "illuminate" our sinful and fallen world.
So what happens when Jesus' followers are no longer doing their job? Probably the same thing that happens when my diaper pail quits doing ITS job...we become completely worthless.
These are basically the words that Jesus uses for us when we stop being "salt" and "light" in a tasteless and dark world. We are good for nothing. We might as well be thrown into the garbage. Read Matthew 5:13 and tell me that I'm exaggerating.
Not only is my diaper pail NOT doing its job...but it has now taken on the odor of the one thing that it was supposed to improve.
Not only have some Christians stopped proactively following Jesus, but they look, act, talk, and "smell" like the very world that so desperately needs them to be different.
It is damaging, disobedient, and quite frankly...disgusting.
Why don't we stop pretending that filling ourselves with "dirty diapers" isn't going to change the way we "smell"?
Why don't we stop pretending that as long as we have the right "label", we are doing our job, as Christians?
Why don't we take an honest look at ourselves, as followers of Jesus, and ask whether or not we are destined for the garbage?
Something to think about...for all of us.
By the way, I've got a well-used, broken-in, semi-dependable Arm & Hammer diaper pail that I'm trying to sell...cheap.
Do you think I should've mentioned that first?
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Set Adrift on Memory Bliss...
As a kid, my parents had a record player. My brother and I would play records and dance (mostly to Sly & the Family Stone's "Dance to the Music"). When the record started skipping, we would put pennies on top of the arm/needle to weigh it down (nickels, if it got really bad).
When I got older - in the eighties - and rap music came out, I accidentally scratched several of my parents' records because I thought that "scratching" was done by moving the needle (as it turns out, it is done by moving the record...too late, though, DJ Jazzy Jerm).
Records were really cool.
Then my parents bought an 8-track player. It was this cool device that you shoved a cartridge into and pushed one of 8 buttons to listen to one of 8 songs. I remember listening to David Soul and Captain & Tennille (who - unlike Sly & the Family Stone - did NOT make the transition onto my iPod, years later).
The 8-track was pretty cool. It didn't last long, though.
Then, as I got old enough to actually buy my own music, the cassette tape emerged. This was revolutionary because, with it, came the Walkman. Are you telling me that I can take my music WITH me and listen to it on yellow headphones now? Sign me up.
I bought hundreds of cassette tapes. I would spend my entire paycheck on them at the Sound Shop (the local audio store in the mall) and I even bought a case to carry them in.
Cassette tapes were awesome. And they lasted a while.
Then came cd's. I was reluctant because I had so much money tied up in my cassette tapes. But it didn't matter. Before long, nobody sold cassette tapes and I began to buy cd's. They used to come in those huge cardboard sleeves...remember those? What was the point of those? Probably to justify the $18.99 price tag.
"Hey Bill, these things cost nearly $20 and they ain't worth it. What should we do?"
"Wrap 'em in cardboard."
"We tried that. Even that won't justify this price."
"Then wrap them in twice as much cardboard as they actually need. Just don't lower that price. And stop bothering me...I've got a job interview at Exxon."
My first cd was PM Dawn (don't laugh, you know you liked that song). I sold my tapes at the local pawn shop for 25 cents each. It broke my heart.
As of today, I have about 700-800 cd's...and counting. And yes, I still have PM Dawn. Don't hate.
But another transition is happening.
Soon, there will be no more cd's. Everything will be digital (and I think there's a "cloud" involved...spooky) and I won't be able to buy cd's anymore. What a sad day that will be.
I suppose I will still listen to music, but it won't be the same. There is just something about opening that cd wrapper and trying to get the thing open without breaking the case...
My children will actually grow up in a world where they will never touch records, 8-tracks, cassettes, or cd's. Everything will be downloaded. Even DVD's and Blurays are about to be replaced with digital movies.
Aren't you glad that some things never change, though? Aren't you glad that God doesn't change? The Bible tells us that although everything around us may change, God doesn't.
I may or may not be able to teach my children how to properly open a cd case, but I will be able to teach them about their heavenly Father.
And even if we can't put the record on, I suppose that me and my girls can still plug in the ol' iPod and Dance to the Music...without needing pennies:)
When I got older - in the eighties - and rap music came out, I accidentally scratched several of my parents' records because I thought that "scratching" was done by moving the needle (as it turns out, it is done by moving the record...too late, though, DJ Jazzy Jerm).
Records were really cool.
Then my parents bought an 8-track player. It was this cool device that you shoved a cartridge into and pushed one of 8 buttons to listen to one of 8 songs. I remember listening to David Soul and Captain & Tennille (who - unlike Sly & the Family Stone - did NOT make the transition onto my iPod, years later).
The 8-track was pretty cool. It didn't last long, though.
Then, as I got old enough to actually buy my own music, the cassette tape emerged. This was revolutionary because, with it, came the Walkman. Are you telling me that I can take my music WITH me and listen to it on yellow headphones now? Sign me up.
I bought hundreds of cassette tapes. I would spend my entire paycheck on them at the Sound Shop (the local audio store in the mall) and I even bought a case to carry them in.
Cassette tapes were awesome. And they lasted a while.
Then came cd's. I was reluctant because I had so much money tied up in my cassette tapes. But it didn't matter. Before long, nobody sold cassette tapes and I began to buy cd's. They used to come in those huge cardboard sleeves...remember those? What was the point of those? Probably to justify the $18.99 price tag.
"Hey Bill, these things cost nearly $20 and they ain't worth it. What should we do?"
"Wrap 'em in cardboard."
"We tried that. Even that won't justify this price."
"Then wrap them in twice as much cardboard as they actually need. Just don't lower that price. And stop bothering me...I've got a job interview at Exxon."
My first cd was PM Dawn (don't laugh, you know you liked that song). I sold my tapes at the local pawn shop for 25 cents each. It broke my heart.
As of today, I have about 700-800 cd's...and counting. And yes, I still have PM Dawn. Don't hate.
But another transition is happening.
Soon, there will be no more cd's. Everything will be digital (and I think there's a "cloud" involved...spooky) and I won't be able to buy cd's anymore. What a sad day that will be.
I suppose I will still listen to music, but it won't be the same. There is just something about opening that cd wrapper and trying to get the thing open without breaking the case...
My children will actually grow up in a world where they will never touch records, 8-tracks, cassettes, or cd's. Everything will be downloaded. Even DVD's and Blurays are about to be replaced with digital movies.
Aren't you glad that some things never change, though? Aren't you glad that God doesn't change? The Bible tells us that although everything around us may change, God doesn't.
I may or may not be able to teach my children how to properly open a cd case, but I will be able to teach them about their heavenly Father.
And even if we can't put the record on, I suppose that me and my girls can still plug in the ol' iPod and Dance to the Music...without needing pennies:)
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