The NBA finals. I could not possibly be less excited about it. Of all the teams to face, it had to be the Heat. Unbelievable. This sucks.
The problem is I'm experiencing flash backs of the worst sports week of my life- the 2006 NBA finals. I've been trying to think of worse sports weeks. I'm sure there have been days that have been worse: just about every Cowboys experience since 1996, watching Jo Jo Jones run around Hardin Simmons my senior year, and various and a sundry Rangers ridiculousness over the years.
What this feels like is Yankees/ Rangers in the late 90s. We know what's going to happen and there is nothing anyone can do about it. You know it and I know it.
Oh, how I wish I was wrong. I wish Dirk had someone who we could trust next to him. This is Dirk and the 2003 All Star Team. I'd love to see what Caron Butler would do for this team.
Of all the teams to play...
They may win one or two, but I doubt it. My prediction (made after game 1) is Heat 4-1. Prove me wrong, Mavs. Please, prove me wrong.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
For Jeanette, Happy Valentine's Day
I will walk with you
Every step of the way
Love you all my life
Love you everyday
No matter where you wander
No matter what you do
Come what may I will walk with you
I will walk with you
And treasure every smile
No matter what the fashion
You'll always be my style
My pretty little princess
An angel dressed in blue
Come what may I will walk with you
I will walk with you
Even when the sun don't shine
The rain it may come down
And Fate may be unkind
If you get a scrape
I'll brush away the tears
Come what may I will walk with you
I will walk with you
Together we will share
Jelly beans and pink ice-cream
A Christmas teddy bear
And one day I am for certain a
Brand new puppy too
Come what may I will walk with you
I will walk with you
And love you for all time
Travel this ol' world
Your little hand in mine
I'll never be far from you
This I promise you
Come what may I will walk with you
Come what may I will walk with you
Every step of the way
Love you all my life
Love you everyday
No matter where you wander
No matter what you do
Come what may I will walk with you
I will walk with you
And treasure every smile
No matter what the fashion
You'll always be my style
My pretty little princess
An angel dressed in blue
Come what may I will walk with you
I will walk with you
Even when the sun don't shine
The rain it may come down
And Fate may be unkind
If you get a scrape
I'll brush away the tears
Come what may I will walk with you
I will walk with you
Together we will share
Jelly beans and pink ice-cream
A Christmas teddy bear
And one day I am for certain a
Brand new puppy too
Come what may I will walk with you
I will walk with you
And love you for all time
Travel this ol' world
Your little hand in mine
I'll never be far from you
This I promise you
Come what may I will walk with you
Come what may I will walk with you
Thursday, February 10, 2011
7 Hour Commute
Jeanette wanted to type this up so we wouldn't forget the details later. More details for anyone who might be interested another day.
Red pickup truck not great in icy conditions.
4:00 Left work in Bellevue.
4:10 Fishtailed on I-40, missed several cars and ended up in the grass right before a ditch; coworker Ryan stopped to wait for tow truck.
5:10 Towed out.
5:30 Got to I-440.
7:00 Got to Harding Place exit ramp to Harding Place (ranted to Jeanette about lack of traffic info on the radio).
9:00 Bathroom break at Mapco on Trousdale, got candy bar and Coke; Tried to go Blackman, but blocked by two stalled cars and scary hills, moved back over to Harding Place.
9:45 Turned down Shadecrest to go back to Blackman, decided to continue up Whispering Hills. Everything fine until a lady in a big SUV was stopped in the middle of the road up a hill on Whispering Hills. Ended up in a precarious spot.
10:30 Stuck on Whispering Hills, drunk guys in truck tried to push me up the hill. Didn't work, so I reversed down the hill and headed to the Ryals' house.
10:45 Parked at Ryals' house, ate scrambled eggs and toast, listened to in-laws' pleas for me to stay the night but wanted to go home to see Jeanette.
11:00 Left to walk the last mile home. Man in big truck picked me up and drove me all the way to my door.
11:30 Home, finally.
Red pickup truck not great in icy conditions.
4:00 Left work in Bellevue.
4:10 Fishtailed on I-40, missed several cars and ended up in the grass right before a ditch; coworker Ryan stopped to wait for tow truck.
5:10 Towed out.
5:30 Got to I-440.
7:00 Got to Harding Place exit ramp to Harding Place (ranted to Jeanette about lack of traffic info on the radio).
9:00 Bathroom break at Mapco on Trousdale, got candy bar and Coke; Tried to go Blackman, but blocked by two stalled cars and scary hills, moved back over to Harding Place.
9:45 Turned down Shadecrest to go back to Blackman, decided to continue up Whispering Hills. Everything fine until a lady in a big SUV was stopped in the middle of the road up a hill on Whispering Hills. Ended up in a precarious spot.
10:30 Stuck on Whispering Hills, drunk guys in truck tried to push me up the hill. Didn't work, so I reversed down the hill and headed to the Ryals' house.
10:45 Parked at Ryals' house, ate scrambled eggs and toast, listened to in-laws' pleas for me to stay the night but wanted to go home to see Jeanette.
11:00 Left to walk the last mile home. Man in big truck picked me up and drove me all the way to my door.
11:30 Home, finally.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
What would be different?
Today in Sunday school, we discussed Jesus on the road to Emmaus focusing on Jesus' question to Cleopas and his companion (who I think is his wife), "What are you discussing together as you walk along?" Other translations call it "disputing" so they were evidently pretty fired up in their discussion. It's pretty clear they were talking about what had happened with Jesus- his crucifixion and the implications of his reported resurrection. I would imagine that one or both of them was skeptical that it really happened since it was women who were claiming that he was alive and the people in that time didn't put must stock in the words of a woman. After Jesus shows up, whom they can't recognize, they get what would be the greatest Bible study ever- Jesus connecting himself with the Old Testament, probably focusing on the sacrificial system and the prophecies. Then, just as they recognize him, he vanishes removing all their doubt of his resurrection. They immediately return to Jerusalem and find the disciples and fill them in. I bet it was the quickest trip between Jerusalem and Emmaus they had ever made.
One of the application questions that was asked by the teacher was what would be different in our lives if Jesus simply been another martyr rather than having resurrected from the dead. Members of the class gave what you might call "Sunday school answers" about living in fear or having to continue sacrifices. I can respect Sunday school answers because they are often at least mostly true. But it got me to thinking how much would things really change in our churches if Jesus hadn't truly been raised? I have a suspicion that most of the things that go on in church can go on just fine without a resurrected Jesus. I mean do we really need Jesus for us to be able to realize our best life now? How about 10 steps to a better you? Or even (treading wearily) how to have a better marriage or fix your finances (for a much better and more intense discussion of this go here and then here- or don't because it's a little uncomfortable).
One of things I love about my church is that the gospel is front and center every Sunday- music, scripture, sermons, Bible study, etc. We just completed 15 days of concentrated prayer with a focus on "gospel renewal" based on Psalm 80:3, "Restore us O God; make your face shine upon us, that we may be saved." What is gospel renewal? To me, it means that the Jesus, the cross, our sin, his grace must always be at the forefront of what the church is all about. Take those things away and the church is nothing more another self help or social club.
One of the application questions that was asked by the teacher was what would be different in our lives if Jesus simply been another martyr rather than having resurrected from the dead. Members of the class gave what you might call "Sunday school answers" about living in fear or having to continue sacrifices. I can respect Sunday school answers because they are often at least mostly true. But it got me to thinking how much would things really change in our churches if Jesus hadn't truly been raised? I have a suspicion that most of the things that go on in church can go on just fine without a resurrected Jesus. I mean do we really need Jesus for us to be able to realize our best life now? How about 10 steps to a better you? Or even (treading wearily) how to have a better marriage or fix your finances (for a much better and more intense discussion of this go here and then here- or don't because it's a little uncomfortable).
One of things I love about my church is that the gospel is front and center every Sunday- music, scripture, sermons, Bible study, etc. We just completed 15 days of concentrated prayer with a focus on "gospel renewal" based on Psalm 80:3, "Restore us O God; make your face shine upon us, that we may be saved." What is gospel renewal? To me, it means that the Jesus, the cross, our sin, his grace must always be at the forefront of what the church is all about. Take those things away and the church is nothing more another self help or social club.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
The One Whom God Hears
Today at church, the sermon and the Bible study corresponded in a way that I found interesting. As we continued in Luke, we read Luke 7:1-10 about the centurion who requested Jesus come heal his servant. One of the points was 'What kind of people find the Savior?' and the answer was one who shows humility, submission, and trust. In fact, the passage notes that Jesus "was amazed" at the centurion's faith, which I think is interesting. How much faith does it take to amaze Jesus? He said that as much faith as a mustard seed could move mountains, and apparently the centurion had enough faith to save his servant.
In the Bible study, in which we study the questions that Jesus asked, we focused on the time in the Garden of Gethsemane when Jesus prayed and the disciples slept (Matthew 26, Mark 14, and Luke 22). I always find stories of Jesus praying fascinating because it seems to blur the line between his humanity and his divinity. I'm not breaking any news when I say the God-Man aspect of Jesus is hard to get my head around. We believe that he is completely God and completely man ("God in the bod" as Dawson McAllister used to say), but was there a place where one ended and the other began? Also, how does Jesus experiences really relate to me? I mean, he was God so did he struggle as I do- to pray or live a godly life? Hebrews says that he was tempted as any person is and yet was without sin. So, if nothing else, Jesus can play a huge role as a model for us. In these passages, Jesus is the perfect illustration for prayer and an extension what we can learn from the centurion. He showed humility in that he fell on his face before the Father. He showed submission in his statement that he would follow his Father's will. He showed trust in the Father by acknowledging that all things were possible with him.
The main difference between the experiences of the two men (the centurion and Jesus) is that one received the answer he hoped for while the other seemingly did not. However, look at Jesus once he gets up from that prayer. The seeming conflict that he experiences in the garden is suddenly gone. He doesn't back down and is the picture of grace and power, guarding his disciples and never flinching in the face of demonic attach. Is is too crazy to say that Jesus was strengthened and empowered by the time in prayer he had in the Garden? As is always said when discussing Jesus' experiences in prayer, if he needed his time with with Father to approach the cross, how much more do we need to seek his face in our time of need.
In the Bible study, in which we study the questions that Jesus asked, we focused on the time in the Garden of Gethsemane when Jesus prayed and the disciples slept (Matthew 26, Mark 14, and Luke 22). I always find stories of Jesus praying fascinating because it seems to blur the line between his humanity and his divinity. I'm not breaking any news when I say the God-Man aspect of Jesus is hard to get my head around. We believe that he is completely God and completely man ("God in the bod" as Dawson McAllister used to say), but was there a place where one ended and the other began? Also, how does Jesus experiences really relate to me? I mean, he was God so did he struggle as I do- to pray or live a godly life? Hebrews says that he was tempted as any person is and yet was without sin. So, if nothing else, Jesus can play a huge role as a model for us. In these passages, Jesus is the perfect illustration for prayer and an extension what we can learn from the centurion. He showed humility in that he fell on his face before the Father. He showed submission in his statement that he would follow his Father's will. He showed trust in the Father by acknowledging that all things were possible with him.
The main difference between the experiences of the two men (the centurion and Jesus) is that one received the answer he hoped for while the other seemingly did not. However, look at Jesus once he gets up from that prayer. The seeming conflict that he experiences in the garden is suddenly gone. He doesn't back down and is the picture of grace and power, guarding his disciples and never flinching in the face of demonic attach. Is is too crazy to say that Jesus was strengthened and empowered by the time in prayer he had in the Garden? As is always said when discussing Jesus' experiences in prayer, if he needed his time with with Father to approach the cross, how much more do we need to seek his face in our time of need.
Monday, January 10, 2011
The Shootings in Tuscon and Blame
It didn't take long after the shooting had stopped in Tuscon for the blame to start flowing. I made the mistake of reading the comments of the stories about the shooting on CNN and NPR and a couple of blogs. The hate and the vitriol flowed from both sides. For some, it was obvious that Sarah Palin was to blame and we need lots more gun control. For others, the crazy liberals were going to use this to crack down on free speech and take all the guns away. It didn't really change a couple of days later, as today, when I was listening to the radio, the focus was on who was to blame for all this. Even when information about the shooter came out and it appears that he may have paranoid delusions and schizophrenia, most of the blame has been laid at negative political rhetoric, with special mention of Sarah Palin's use cross hairs on a map of Democratic districts to target for the recent election. It is unconscionable, but hardly surprising that one would use this tragedy to score political points.
But that is what our political dialogue has been devolved into- anything to make the other side look bad. That is why we can't have a decent conversation about how to solve the problems of this country. You can't have a discussion with someone if they think you're Hitler or an anti-American radical. Until both sides stop the extreme rhetoric, we may not have more shootings (the US is actually relatively peaceful compared to so many other countries), but we will probably continue to have gridlock and further division.
As we've learned more about the shooter, it seems pretty clear that he was not driven by Sarah Palin or any other right winger. Nor does he seem to be a particular fan of the democrats, either. Contrary to some people's statements, mental illness is not exclusive to any political persuasion. However, I think this is time to look closely at how we do political dialogue in this country. Let me illustrate: if I go to a funeral for a person killed because of reckless driving. It would cause me to think about how I'm driving. Does that thinking mean that I caused to accident to begin with? Of course not. I would think about it because I realize that doing something stupid could have consequences down the line if I'm not careful.
This is an opportunity for everyone to stop and look at themselves and ask how we contribute to the problem. By problem, I'm not necessarily referring to shootings, but the hate filled rhetoric. For example, Sarah Palin should apologize for having cross hairs on individual districts (enough with saying it was surveyors mark. We aren't that stupid). Whoever on Huffington Post said that Giffords was "dead to me" for voting against Nancy Pelosi should apologize. I don't think apologizing would acknowledging blame, but rather signaling a change in how things would be done in the future. Whenever someone uses that kind of language, they should be pointed out and criticized vocally by both sides. Few Republicans have the courage to criticize Sarah Palin even if they disagreed with her and most of the people on Huffington Post probably agreed with the one who said she was dead to him. Unfortunately, I'm not optimistic for any kind of change.
But that is what our political dialogue has been devolved into- anything to make the other side look bad. That is why we can't have a decent conversation about how to solve the problems of this country. You can't have a discussion with someone if they think you're Hitler or an anti-American radical. Until both sides stop the extreme rhetoric, we may not have more shootings (the US is actually relatively peaceful compared to so many other countries), but we will probably continue to have gridlock and further division.
As we've learned more about the shooter, it seems pretty clear that he was not driven by Sarah Palin or any other right winger. Nor does he seem to be a particular fan of the democrats, either. Contrary to some people's statements, mental illness is not exclusive to any political persuasion. However, I think this is time to look closely at how we do political dialogue in this country. Let me illustrate: if I go to a funeral for a person killed because of reckless driving. It would cause me to think about how I'm driving. Does that thinking mean that I caused to accident to begin with? Of course not. I would think about it because I realize that doing something stupid could have consequences down the line if I'm not careful.
This is an opportunity for everyone to stop and look at themselves and ask how we contribute to the problem. By problem, I'm not necessarily referring to shootings, but the hate filled rhetoric. For example, Sarah Palin should apologize for having cross hairs on individual districts (enough with saying it was surveyors mark. We aren't that stupid). Whoever on Huffington Post said that Giffords was "dead to me" for voting against Nancy Pelosi should apologize. I don't think apologizing would acknowledging blame, but rather signaling a change in how things would be done in the future. Whenever someone uses that kind of language, they should be pointed out and criticized vocally by both sides. Few Republicans have the courage to criticize Sarah Palin even if they disagreed with her and most of the people on Huffington Post probably agreed with the one who said she was dead to him. Unfortunately, I'm not optimistic for any kind of change.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Birthday Thoughts
Today, I turned 37 years old (not 45 as reported by my oldest daughter). As with most people, a birthday becomes a time to consider and think about the past and the future. As Wes King once said, some things I've done better, some things it's hard to say.
But considering the future, I'm struck by the frailty of it all. A couple of weeks ago, a friend with a serious health condition announced that he and his wife were pregnant. I asked how he felt about it in light of his health issues and he said that they didn't know what was going to happen in four years so they knew they wanted another child so they decided to go ahead. His comment reminded me of what Andy Dufresne said in The Shawshank Redemption, "Get busy living or get busy dying."
The thing is none of us know what the future holds. Just thinking about what is different from December 27, 2009 to today boggles the mind. I changed jobs within Catholic Charities (from Adoption Support and Preservation to Flood Relief), started and completed my practicum experience), had a baby, and started leading our community group. I could list off a number of other things- relationships formed, Rangers in the World Series, crazy weather (a flood and a white Christmas), a new clutch in my truck, and so on. Imagine what will happen next year.
Isaiah 40:7-8 "The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the Lord blows on them. Surely the people are grass. The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever.”
But considering the future, I'm struck by the frailty of it all. A couple of weeks ago, a friend with a serious health condition announced that he and his wife were pregnant. I asked how he felt about it in light of his health issues and he said that they didn't know what was going to happen in four years so they knew they wanted another child so they decided to go ahead. His comment reminded me of what Andy Dufresne said in The Shawshank Redemption, "Get busy living or get busy dying."
The thing is none of us know what the future holds. Just thinking about what is different from December 27, 2009 to today boggles the mind. I changed jobs within Catholic Charities (from Adoption Support and Preservation to Flood Relief), started and completed my practicum experience), had a baby, and started leading our community group. I could list off a number of other things- relationships formed, Rangers in the World Series, crazy weather (a flood and a white Christmas), a new clutch in my truck, and so on. Imagine what will happen next year.
Isaiah 40:7-8 "The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the Lord blows on them. Surely the people are grass. The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever.”
Monday, May 11, 2009
My Big, Crazy Goal
I've always hated running. Even when I wasn't 2 hundred something (something). Unless running had something to do with a game, like basketball, football, baseball/ softball, but even then it usually short bursts. I went through a time in college when tried to do some running, but it didn't last too long. Another thing I hate is getting up early in the morning. My normal days are sleep as long as I possibly can even to the point of missing the things or having to rush through getting ready.
But I have a desire to do two these two things to reach a big crazy goal. I want to run in the half marathon next year at the Music City Marathon. That's right. I want to run 13 miles. I'll probably walk some, but I really want to run it. Here's how crazy of a goal that is. I've never run a full 5k. I've walked and jogged one and I've walked jogged the 5 Mile Boulevard Bolt two Thanksgivings ago, but I've never just ran a 5k.
Here is the method that I want to accomplish this goal. On the website, Cool Running, they have a thing called Couch to 5K. I'm not quite on the coach, but I'm pretty close. Close enough to start from the beginning and see how it goes. After I get to a full 5k, I'll see what the next step is. Right now I'm getting up at 5:45am and running outside, hopefully before Erica awakes, 3 times a week. What I need to work on right now it staying up with walking and other exercise on those other days. Because another part of this goal is losing weight. As I said earlier, I weigh two hundred something (something) and need to loose some weight. I've noticed as I've gotten started the last couple of weeks that my knees are sore and my ankles are sore. Pounding two hundred something (something) isn't good for it. Plus, I want to avoid the health problems that go along with being a big ole' boy.
But so far so good. I missed one day last week because of lack of sleep and then on the makeup day there was a big thunderstorm. But I got back into it today. I'll try to keep my reader(s) up to date on my progress.
But I have a desire to do two these two things to reach a big crazy goal. I want to run in the half marathon next year at the Music City Marathon. That's right. I want to run 13 miles. I'll probably walk some, but I really want to run it. Here's how crazy of a goal that is. I've never run a full 5k. I've walked and jogged one and I've walked jogged the 5 Mile Boulevard Bolt two Thanksgivings ago, but I've never just ran a 5k.
Here is the method that I want to accomplish this goal. On the website, Cool Running, they have a thing called Couch to 5K. I'm not quite on the coach, but I'm pretty close. Close enough to start from the beginning and see how it goes. After I get to a full 5k, I'll see what the next step is. Right now I'm getting up at 5:45am and running outside, hopefully before Erica awakes, 3 times a week. What I need to work on right now it staying up with walking and other exercise on those other days. Because another part of this goal is losing weight. As I said earlier, I weigh two hundred something (something) and need to loose some weight. I've noticed as I've gotten started the last couple of weeks that my knees are sore and my ankles are sore. Pounding two hundred something (something) isn't good for it. Plus, I want to avoid the health problems that go along with being a big ole' boy.
But so far so good. I missed one day last week because of lack of sleep and then on the makeup day there was a big thunderstorm. But I got back into it today. I'll try to keep my reader(s) up to date on my progress.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
I am the Brett Farve of Softball
The past three years since we moved to Nashville, I have played softball with FHBC. I've really enjoyed it, though my days of playing well, if they ever really existed at all, are long gone. At the end of last year's season, I contemplated retirement in a post appropriately entitled "Retirement."
Even as we entered this year and spring rolled around, I knew softball was coming, but I was thinking that I wouldn't play this year. I'm not going to that church now and my knee has been hurting for several months. Nothing serious, but whenever I put pressure on the right knee, it really hurts. Sore knees can really hurt a catcher, which is still the only position I can play with any kind of mastery. If I can't squat, what is the use?
The wife of one of the guys who played with me works at CC and asked me if I was going to play. I told her that I probably wouldn't. Another friend asked me, but when I asked the rec guy if I could play, he said that he didn't even think there would room for me. So my decision was made, right? Well, not exactly. The rec guy e-mailed me a couple of weeks later telling me there was an opening. All I needed to do was let him know. So.... decision time was at hand. Do I play or retire?
I PLAY!!!!!! This past Tuesday I made my triumphant return to the Williamson Co softball fields. And by triumphant I mean 3-5 with 3 singles in two games. I think I scored a couple of runs, but I can't remember because I usually come out for a pinch runner after getting on base. Our team wasn't very triumphant as we lost both games and gave up somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 runs in the second game. It wasn't pretty. I contributed with a fielder's interference that allowed one of those runs to score. No, I didn't squat, but that's ok. My body hurt afterward and I shudder to think how it would have felt if I had gotten down in the squat for two games. But I played all of both games and had a really good time.
It's possible that it may be my last game since family and work issues may get in the way. I'll be like those athletes and coaches that retire to spend time with their families. Maybe I'll have a press conference.
Even as we entered this year and spring rolled around, I knew softball was coming, but I was thinking that I wouldn't play this year. I'm not going to that church now and my knee has been hurting for several months. Nothing serious, but whenever I put pressure on the right knee, it really hurts. Sore knees can really hurt a catcher, which is still the only position I can play with any kind of mastery. If I can't squat, what is the use?
The wife of one of the guys who played with me works at CC and asked me if I was going to play. I told her that I probably wouldn't. Another friend asked me, but when I asked the rec guy if I could play, he said that he didn't even think there would room for me. So my decision was made, right? Well, not exactly. The rec guy e-mailed me a couple of weeks later telling me there was an opening. All I needed to do was let him know. So.... decision time was at hand. Do I play or retire?
I PLAY!!!!!! This past Tuesday I made my triumphant return to the Williamson Co softball fields. And by triumphant I mean 3-5 with 3 singles in two games. I think I scored a couple of runs, but I can't remember because I usually come out for a pinch runner after getting on base. Our team wasn't very triumphant as we lost both games and gave up somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 runs in the second game. It wasn't pretty. I contributed with a fielder's interference that allowed one of those runs to score. No, I didn't squat, but that's ok. My body hurt afterward and I shudder to think how it would have felt if I had gotten down in the squat for two games. But I played all of both games and had a really good time.
It's possible that it may be my last game since family and work issues may get in the way. I'll be like those athletes and coaches that retire to spend time with their families. Maybe I'll have a press conference.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
A Review of Slumdog Millionaire
Jeanette and I watched Slumdog Millionaire. It was her idea to see it and that is a big deal as you probably know. She doesn't like movies because she tends to get bored. I remember going with our friends in New York to see a movie and in the middle of it Jeanette breaks out her palm pilot and starts playing solitaire. But after our time in New York, Jeanette became interested in Indian culture and people so she wanted to go see Slumdog Millionaire. I wanted to see it too, but it wasn't that big of a deal. However, I would strongly recommend anyone going to see it, but it's best to see it in the movie theater. But I'll get to that in a minute.
I love a good story, and this story is really good despite some plot twists that I could see coming. It is a true feel good story about love and maintaining humanity in the face of complex and pervasive inhumanity- extreme poverty, crime, and survival of the fittest. It's the story of two orphaned brothers and a little girl who grow up in circumstances that I cannot rationally explain or really even understand so I'll just say "difficult" and leave it at that. In fact, what was so beautiful about the movie was how it showed that poverty in a way that, while it didn't sugar coat it, brought out the beauty and humanity of the people living in the Mumbai slums, with bright colors that are stunning on the big screen. "Love conquers all" can be a overused cliche in the movies, but Slumdog Millionaire says this apologetically, all the way to Bollywood dance during the credits.
This isn't a Christian movie by any means. The main characters are Muslims and Hindus, in fact, the interplay between these two religions is an important aspect of the movie. However, this movie is all about love and redemption. I think Jamal is the Christ figure here as he literally kisses the scars of his love for whom he has pursued and searched for most of his life. The story of Jesus and the church can surely be told here.
I love a good story, and this story is really good despite some plot twists that I could see coming. It is a true feel good story about love and maintaining humanity in the face of complex and pervasive inhumanity- extreme poverty, crime, and survival of the fittest. It's the story of two orphaned brothers and a little girl who grow up in circumstances that I cannot rationally explain or really even understand so I'll just say "difficult" and leave it at that. In fact, what was so beautiful about the movie was how it showed that poverty in a way that, while it didn't sugar coat it, brought out the beauty and humanity of the people living in the Mumbai slums, with bright colors that are stunning on the big screen. "Love conquers all" can be a overused cliche in the movies, but Slumdog Millionaire says this apologetically, all the way to Bollywood dance during the credits.
This isn't a Christian movie by any means. The main characters are Muslims and Hindus, in fact, the interplay between these two religions is an important aspect of the movie. However, this movie is all about love and redemption. I think Jamal is the Christ figure here as he literally kisses the scars of his love for whom he has pursued and searched for most of his life. The story of Jesus and the church can surely be told here.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Plan B (or C or D, etc)
I just discovered an NPR show that I think I'm going to really like. It's called This American Life. They take a theme and contributors tell stories that relate somehow or another to the topic. The host, Ira Glass usually talks really fast then has long pauses in between sentences. It's a little disconcerting at times. I subscribed to the podcast and I'm happy it's just a once a week podcast because I'd fall behind really fast if it wasn't.
The topic this week was called Plan B, about what ends up happening when our first plan doesn't work out the way it's supposed to. There were a couple of interesting stories, especially the one about the wannabe actor who ends up a professional partier and the guy who discovers to his dismay what he's best at is being a telemarketer.
Inevitably, I guess, this got me thinking about my own life. I can't say I'm on plan B, but rather at least plan C, probably further along than that. Throughout high school, college, the interim time between HSU and Kstan, Kstan, the interim time between Kstan and seminary, New York, and even the first part of my time in Tennessee the ministry was what I wanted to do and some where along the way, it was all about being overseas. However since I got from Kstan, especially, I kept getting sidetracked by like. I've enjoyed most (I stress most) of what I've been involved in, All Church Home, teaching, New York, C C, but am I satisfied with where I am? And if I'm not, what exactly do I need to do?
One of my greatest faults is constantly regretting the past. Did I chose the right major? Was I right to transfer to Lewisville HS my sophomore year? Why didn't keep up my Spanish? Was HSU the right call for me? Why didn't I extend my time in Kstan after my two years were up? I could go on and on. It's stupid, I know, but I often wonder what might have been. How does this match up with God's will? I can't believe, oh, God really wanted me do this specific thing and since I didn't do it exactly right, then I'm so far off track that I would need a souped up DeLorean to get it right. But at the same time, like the telemarketer in This American Life, I wonder about plan B. Is this really what God wants with us? To settle for something less than what we dreamed of doing?
I was wracking my brain trying to think of the classic plan B guy from the Bible. There's no question, it's Moses. I picture him sitting on a hill side in Sinai tending his father-in-law's sheep as a 40 year old, thinking "what in the heck happened?" Then a freaking burning bush gave him a new mission, one that had been in his head way back in Egypt, saving God's people. By this point, he didn't think he had anything close to what it took to lead those people. On the contrary, he had two things that would be invaluable. One, he knew the land. As a shepherd he knew everything about the whole area. Secondly, he knew how to rely on God. Moses probably thought he was finished, passed by by life. But God knew that he was finally ready to do what had been put before him.
The topic this week was called Plan B, about what ends up happening when our first plan doesn't work out the way it's supposed to. There were a couple of interesting stories, especially the one about the wannabe actor who ends up a professional partier and the guy who discovers to his dismay what he's best at is being a telemarketer.
Inevitably, I guess, this got me thinking about my own life. I can't say I'm on plan B, but rather at least plan C, probably further along than that. Throughout high school, college, the interim time between HSU and Kstan, Kstan, the interim time between Kstan and seminary, New York, and even the first part of my time in Tennessee the ministry was what I wanted to do and some where along the way, it was all about being overseas. However since I got from Kstan, especially, I kept getting sidetracked by like. I've enjoyed most (I stress most) of what I've been involved in, All Church Home, teaching, New York, C C, but am I satisfied with where I am? And if I'm not, what exactly do I need to do?
One of my greatest faults is constantly regretting the past. Did I chose the right major? Was I right to transfer to Lewisville HS my sophomore year? Why didn't keep up my Spanish? Was HSU the right call for me? Why didn't I extend my time in Kstan after my two years were up? I could go on and on. It's stupid, I know, but I often wonder what might have been. How does this match up with God's will? I can't believe, oh, God really wanted me do this specific thing and since I didn't do it exactly right, then I'm so far off track that I would need a souped up DeLorean to get it right. But at the same time, like the telemarketer in This American Life, I wonder about plan B. Is this really what God wants with us? To settle for something less than what we dreamed of doing?
I was wracking my brain trying to think of the classic plan B guy from the Bible. There's no question, it's Moses. I picture him sitting on a hill side in Sinai tending his father-in-law's sheep as a 40 year old, thinking "what in the heck happened?" Then a freaking burning bush gave him a new mission, one that had been in his head way back in Egypt, saving God's people. By this point, he didn't think he had anything close to what it took to lead those people. On the contrary, he had two things that would be invaluable. One, he knew the land. As a shepherd he knew everything about the whole area. Secondly, he knew how to rely on God. Moses probably thought he was finished, passed by by life. But God knew that he was finally ready to do what had been put before him.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Fear and the Way Forward
Since Jeanette stopped working at the church when Erica was born, we have been searching for a new church to attend. I guess, theoretically, we could go to FHBC, but I don't think it's really much of an option at this point for a number of reasons that this is neither the time nor the place to discuss. We have been visiting a local church called Grace.
The preacher is in the middle of a series on Exodus (I assume it's about Exodus because that's where we've been the last two Sundays that we attended.) This past Sunday, he preached from the passage about the parting of the Red Sea, and I did pretty much what I've done the other times I've visited which is zone out because I'm so tired. He talked being the people of Israel being taken from fear to faith as they are standing there with an army ready to take them back to slavery on one hand and a sea ready to drown them if they stepped in on the other. The preacher said lots of things that usually get said when talking about fear and faith: how God orchestrates events to lead us to faith and that events show off what's really going on in our hearts.
It was about here that I realized that this sermon had something to say to me right where I live. I'm a thinker and as a thinker, I think and think and think and sometimes drive myself crazy with fear and worry. I think the current financial situation has made a nation of fearful people, fearful for our jobs, our future, our children's future, even the future of our society. Unfortunately, fear usually leads to poor decisions instead of good ones, whether rashly made decisions or one's clouded by our own poor judgement. Faith is the place that one can say, "No matter what direction the economy, both national and personal, may go, no matter the future, God is still in control and in Him I will place my trust."
Psalm 32:7- You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance."
It's funny. I think this was easier for me when I was single. Now, being married with a kid, I'm not just trusting God for me, but for Jeanette and Erica, too.
Another funny thing, I'm reading a book about the doctrine of predestination during my hiatus from school. I'm not sure what means for these thoughts, but I'll be interested to see if the author addresses this at all.
The preacher is in the middle of a series on Exodus (I assume it's about Exodus because that's where we've been the last two Sundays that we attended.) This past Sunday, he preached from the passage about the parting of the Red Sea, and I did pretty much what I've done the other times I've visited which is zone out because I'm so tired. He talked being the people of Israel being taken from fear to faith as they are standing there with an army ready to take them back to slavery on one hand and a sea ready to drown them if they stepped in on the other. The preacher said lots of things that usually get said when talking about fear and faith: how God orchestrates events to lead us to faith and that events show off what's really going on in our hearts.
It was about here that I realized that this sermon had something to say to me right where I live. I'm a thinker and as a thinker, I think and think and think and sometimes drive myself crazy with fear and worry. I think the current financial situation has made a nation of fearful people, fearful for our jobs, our future, our children's future, even the future of our society. Unfortunately, fear usually leads to poor decisions instead of good ones, whether rashly made decisions or one's clouded by our own poor judgement. Faith is the place that one can say, "No matter what direction the economy, both national and personal, may go, no matter the future, God is still in control and in Him I will place my trust."
Psalm 32:7- You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance."
It's funny. I think this was easier for me when I was single. Now, being married with a kid, I'm not just trusting God for me, but for Jeanette and Erica, too.
Another funny thing, I'm reading a book about the doctrine of predestination during my hiatus from school. I'm not sure what means for these thoughts, but I'll be interested to see if the author addresses this at all.
Monday, September 01, 2008
Our little girl...
Well, I'm sure you've been waiting with baited breath for my first true post about fatherhood. So here goes. Let me say that it's a whole lot of work. But honestly, it hasn't been too bad. We stayed at the hospital until last Tuesday, so tomorrow will mark the first full week at home with Erica. The first night was rough, but since then after we put her down and she finally calms down she sleeps for up to four hours. I can't complain about that too much now can I?
It does feel good when people talk about how pretty she is. I mean, heck, after they say that they end up saying things like she looks like me. So either people are flattering us or I look pretty good!
I gotta say that Erica has quite a pair of lungs on her. When she gets upset she can really let people know about it. One funny thing is when she gets the hiccups. It's even funnier when she's crying and has the hiccups at the same time. I can't help but laugh as she's crying loudly and hiccuping.
This is not an authorization for a nickname by any means, but she is our little frog. First of all, her legs kick out alot like frog legs. But also, I don't know how many times we started to change her diaper and she starts to pee all over herself, the new diaper, the changing pad, and everything else.. She's like those toads and frogs we used to catch around our house growing up. We used to catch them all the time and if you held them too long, a stream of pee would come down you arm. That's all kinds of gross. I don't know what happened to all those toads. Maybe we hunted them to extinction around our house, or maybe I quit looking for them like I used to.
The cool thing about having a kid is seeing Jeanette in action. She is so gentle and kind with our daughter. She is really in her element. I've always known that Jeanette would be an excellent mother.
Sometimes I can't believe I'm actually a dad. Right now, it's around midnight and I waiting for Erica to wake up so I can take her to Jeanette who is sleeping and feed her. As I'm sitting here with the monitor on, I heard the sound of music from her room. Somehow she has hit the music player that's attached to her crib. I have to go and change her diaper and take her into Jeanette. Hopefully, she'll go to sleep after this. We'll see.
It does feel good when people talk about how pretty she is. I mean, heck, after they say that they end up saying things like she looks like me. So either people are flattering us or I look pretty good!
I gotta say that Erica has quite a pair of lungs on her. When she gets upset she can really let people know about it. One funny thing is when she gets the hiccups. It's even funnier when she's crying and has the hiccups at the same time. I can't help but laugh as she's crying loudly and hiccuping.
This is not an authorization for a nickname by any means, but she is our little frog. First of all, her legs kick out alot like frog legs. But also, I don't know how many times we started to change her diaper and she starts to pee all over herself, the new diaper, the changing pad, and everything else.. She's like those toads and frogs we used to catch around our house growing up. We used to catch them all the time and if you held them too long, a stream of pee would come down you arm. That's all kinds of gross. I don't know what happened to all those toads. Maybe we hunted them to extinction around our house, or maybe I quit looking for them like I used to.
The cool thing about having a kid is seeing Jeanette in action. She is so gentle and kind with our daughter. She is really in her element. I've always known that Jeanette would be an excellent mother.
Sometimes I can't believe I'm actually a dad. Right now, it's around midnight and I waiting for Erica to wake up so I can take her to Jeanette who is sleeping and feed her. As I'm sitting here with the monitor on, I heard the sound of music from her room. Somehow she has hit the music player that's attached to her crib. I have to go and change her diaper and take her into Jeanette. Hopefully, she'll go to sleep after this. We'll see.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Welcome, Erica Jean
She came Friday afternoon, 2:21 pm. She was 7 pounds, 9 ounces and 19 inches long. She's just the sweetest, most beautiful thing ever.
You can also see some pictures at http://gallery.me.com/rcjrmassey#100036
I'll post some more latter.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
This is the First Day of the Rest of My Life
When I was in the middle school, one of my teachers (I think it was my 7th grade English teacher Ms. Riettinger, but I'm not sure) has a poster on the wall with Garfield hanging from chains in a dungeon that said in big letters at the bottom, "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." It took me a while to get it, but I eventually got it. Another way to put it is "What's past is prologue." But what it basically means is that the past is gone and the future is what is left.
Well, as I type this it's 12:05 on Friday, August 22, 2008, and today really is the first day of the rest of my life.
My parents are here and my sister is coming. I was watching the weather and it's supposed to be warm with possible showers. Olympic baseball is on while the local news is going in between Olympic coverage and I can't sleep. It reminds me of when I was a kid and it was the night before Christmas when all through the house, the only I know of stirring was me. The last few weeks have been long and the wait seemingly forever, but the day has finally arrived and in about 14 hours so will my daughter. From this day forward, everything changes completely.
Man, am I nervous.
Well, as I type this it's 12:05 on Friday, August 22, 2008, and today really is the first day of the rest of my life.
My parents are here and my sister is coming. I was watching the weather and it's supposed to be warm with possible showers. Olympic baseball is on while the local news is going in between Olympic coverage and I can't sleep. It reminds me of when I was a kid and it was the night before Christmas when all through the house, the only I know of stirring was me. The last few weeks have been long and the wait seemingly forever, but the day has finally arrived and in about 14 hours so will my daughter. From this day forward, everything changes completely.
Man, am I nervous.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Menin Kazakhstanum
I get alot of comments about my profile picture on Facebook and here on Blogger. It's me standing in an outhouse do exactly what you might be guessing. I obviously didn't take the picture, nor did I ask for it to be taken, but, being the guy that I am, I find it hilarious. My wife generally rolls her eyes at me.
Anyway, I was in Kazakhstan when that picture was taken. If you know me for very long, you find out pretty quickly that I lived in Kazakhstan for two years. I also visited there before and after that two year term. I was there teaching English, among other things and had a blast. It was a great experience and I have more stories from that trip than I can really explain in this little post, but I'll give you a taste: ate a sheep's eyeball, was a victim of police brutality, took a nap at some guy's house I had just met in a city where I knew nobody else, blew out the match of a mad drunk guy who tried to smoke in the only place in all Kazakhstan where you can't smoke, experienced two -40 degree winters, was on TV because I was an American learning the Kazakh language, rode a bus for 36 hrs, and was in a car that ran off the road out in the middle of NOWHERE in the coldest part of winter! That's just a glimpse of my experiences there.
Today broke out my Kazakhstan music CD that I picked up while I was there. I tried to remember some the Kazakh language I learned. Ran the names of my Kazakh friends through my head, most of whom I haven't been in touch with since I was there. I sent an e-mail to one of American friends who still lives there to let him know that I remembered him and the others who are there. I yarped for all those closest in my heart. Every once in a while, I'll do this. And it makes me wish that I was there again. Sipping tea and, at this time of year, eating watermelon. Chatting with friends and listening to music. Walking the tree lined street and trying to come up something to teach my students. Learning new Kazakh words, trying to wedge them into conversations with real Kazakhs, and being bragged over by one of the apais saying I speak Kazakh better than her own son. I want to go back so badly.
Anyway, I was in Kazakhstan when that picture was taken. If you know me for very long, you find out pretty quickly that I lived in Kazakhstan for two years. I also visited there before and after that two year term. I was there teaching English, among other things and had a blast. It was a great experience and I have more stories from that trip than I can really explain in this little post, but I'll give you a taste: ate a sheep's eyeball, was a victim of police brutality, took a nap at some guy's house I had just met in a city where I knew nobody else, blew out the match of a mad drunk guy who tried to smoke in the only place in all Kazakhstan where you can't smoke, experienced two -40 degree winters, was on TV because I was an American learning the Kazakh language, rode a bus for 36 hrs, and was in a car that ran off the road out in the middle of NOWHERE in the coldest part of winter! That's just a glimpse of my experiences there.
Today broke out my Kazakhstan music CD that I picked up while I was there. I tried to remember some the Kazakh language I learned. Ran the names of my Kazakh friends through my head, most of whom I haven't been in touch with since I was there. I sent an e-mail to one of American friends who still lives there to let him know that I remembered him and the others who are there. I yarped for all those closest in my heart. Every once in a while, I'll do this. And it makes me wish that I was there again. Sipping tea and, at this time of year, eating watermelon. Chatting with friends and listening to music. Walking the tree lined street and trying to come up something to teach my students. Learning new Kazakh words, trying to wedge them into conversations with real Kazakhs, and being bragged over by one of the apais saying I speak Kazakh better than her own son. I want to go back so badly.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
A Letter to My Daughter
Saturday, July 19, 2008, 11:50 PM
Dear ________,
I got this idea from another blog that I read sometimes. It’s a little weird to write a letter to someone who isn’t here. Well, you’re “here”, but not here. I mean, when are you ever going to read this? And does posting it on a blog negate the sweetness or the sensitivity that I want to try and convey in this? Probably, but I’m going to write it and post it anyway.
Your mother and I have waited a long time to see you. And not just in the whole almost eight months of your gestation. Four prior, um, attempts(?) and a lot of heart break for your two parents means that you’re coming in with a little bit of pressure. I feel kinda bad for you. I hope it’s not more than you can take. We’ll try not to expect too much from you. I mean, you’re only human. And so is your mom and dad. People have asked me if I’m ready to be a dad. I tell them our first try was almost 5 years ago and I guess I was ready then, so I’m as ready now as I’ll ever be. I think I’m not completely ready because from what I understand the change is my life will be so drastic that I wouldn’t believe it. But with only one month (at the absolute most) to go, we are ready, I guess.
Your room is all ready to go. It’s painted a nice shade of green with pink accents. Your mother loves pink. I hope you don’t grow to hate it. You see, there’s a lot of things we hope. We hope you’re healthy. We hope your arrival comes with a minimum of trauma to you and your mom. We hope you grow and become big and strong and wise and happy. Your mom is great. She’s going to be an awesome mom. She loves you so much. She had to get shots twice a day since the day we found out about you all the way back in December. (Hopefully we won’t hold that over your head.) Your dad loves you too. That’s about the only promise I can make to you. I will do everything I can to make sure that you are safe, healthy, happy and, above all else, loved. Sometimes it hard to show that. I’m probably going to worry alot. Heck, you aren’t even here yet, and I worry. I worry about the future. I worry about you and your mom. I worry about am I going to be a good dad. Am I going to be able to take care of you? Am I going to drive you crazy by worrying to much? Probably. You’ll just have to forgive me. More than anything, I hope that one day when Jesus calls your name, you’ll hear Him and come to Him, and that, somehow, my love for you will have been a picture of His love for you.
You are a special girl who is already loved by lots and lots of people. I can’t wait to meet you.
Love, your dad.
PS. You may have noticed the blank where your name should be. You already have a name, but we aren’t giving it away yet.
Dear ________,
I got this idea from another blog that I read sometimes. It’s a little weird to write a letter to someone who isn’t here. Well, you’re “here”, but not here. I mean, when are you ever going to read this? And does posting it on a blog negate the sweetness or the sensitivity that I want to try and convey in this? Probably, but I’m going to write it and post it anyway.
Your mother and I have waited a long time to see you. And not just in the whole almost eight months of your gestation. Four prior, um, attempts(?) and a lot of heart break for your two parents means that you’re coming in with a little bit of pressure. I feel kinda bad for you. I hope it’s not more than you can take. We’ll try not to expect too much from you. I mean, you’re only human. And so is your mom and dad. People have asked me if I’m ready to be a dad. I tell them our first try was almost 5 years ago and I guess I was ready then, so I’m as ready now as I’ll ever be. I think I’m not completely ready because from what I understand the change is my life will be so drastic that I wouldn’t believe it. But with only one month (at the absolute most) to go, we are ready, I guess.
Your room is all ready to go. It’s painted a nice shade of green with pink accents. Your mother loves pink. I hope you don’t grow to hate it. You see, there’s a lot of things we hope. We hope you’re healthy. We hope your arrival comes with a minimum of trauma to you and your mom. We hope you grow and become big and strong and wise and happy. Your mom is great. She’s going to be an awesome mom. She loves you so much. She had to get shots twice a day since the day we found out about you all the way back in December. (Hopefully we won’t hold that over your head.) Your dad loves you too. That’s about the only promise I can make to you. I will do everything I can to make sure that you are safe, healthy, happy and, above all else, loved. Sometimes it hard to show that. I’m probably going to worry alot. Heck, you aren’t even here yet, and I worry. I worry about the future. I worry about you and your mom. I worry about am I going to be a good dad. Am I going to be able to take care of you? Am I going to drive you crazy by worrying to much? Probably. You’ll just have to forgive me. More than anything, I hope that one day when Jesus calls your name, you’ll hear Him and come to Him, and that, somehow, my love for you will have been a picture of His love for you.
You are a special girl who is already loved by lots and lots of people. I can’t wait to meet you.
Love, your dad.
PS. You may have noticed the blank where your name should be. You already have a name, but we aren’t giving it away yet.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Gay or not Gay?
My favorite radio station is Sports Radio 1310 The Ticket. I listen to it over the internet at work and one of my favorites is Bad Radio's gay/ not gay, usually Tuesdays at one. In fact, Jeanette and I will listen to it whenever it makes the Ticket podcasts. People will send in questions about circumstances or something that was said and ask if it was gay or not gay. Actually, the guys from Bad radio call just about everything gay. I guess if there is a question at all, it's probably gay. I have a gay/ not gay that I'm thinking of sending in, but decided to post it here first. Jeanette wanted to me note that what she finds so funny about it is the fear guys have of being perceived at "girly" or weak.
Over the 4th of July weekend, I was in Texas to visit family, have a baby shower with my family, and celebrate my mother's 60th birthday. Whenever I'm in Texas, I usually go to a Ranger game (you can read my musings on the Rangers at my other blog 110 percent), but through a terrible lack of foresight on the Rangers' part they were out of town so I went to my first Frisco Roughriders' game at Dr. Pepper Ballpark. BTW, beautiful ballpark. I went with my good friend Dan. He and I like to get together and talk sports. Mostly, we like to figure who is a spare and who isn't. The classic spare is Doug Jones and his 76 mph fastball that we saw at a Rangers game one year. Anyway, we left the game and he drove me over to my car, he gave me the baby gift that he and his wife Sharon had bought for us. So here is where the question comes in: Sitting in his car in the parking lot, I open the gift bag. It has a rattle, a wrap around towel, and some other things that they really like with their son, Aiden. As I'm sitting there, opening up the gift, I start to wonder. Is this gay? We are having a girl, so the bag and most of the things in the bag are pink. And of course, they are all baby things. On the other hand, Dan's wife obviously bought all the stuff and wrote on the card. In fact, Dan didn't even sign his name himself, his wife did. So there is my question. Is opening a baby gift with your friend in the car gay?
Over the 4th of July weekend, I was in Texas to visit family, have a baby shower with my family, and celebrate my mother's 60th birthday. Whenever I'm in Texas, I usually go to a Ranger game (you can read my musings on the Rangers at my other blog 110 percent), but through a terrible lack of foresight on the Rangers' part they were out of town so I went to my first Frisco Roughriders' game at Dr. Pepper Ballpark. BTW, beautiful ballpark. I went with my good friend Dan. He and I like to get together and talk sports. Mostly, we like to figure who is a spare and who isn't. The classic spare is Doug Jones and his 76 mph fastball that we saw at a Rangers game one year. Anyway, we left the game and he drove me over to my car, he gave me the baby gift that he and his wife Sharon had bought for us. So here is where the question comes in: Sitting in his car in the parking lot, I open the gift bag. It has a rattle, a wrap around towel, and some other things that they really like with their son, Aiden. As I'm sitting there, opening up the gift, I start to wonder. Is this gay? We are having a girl, so the bag and most of the things in the bag are pink. And of course, they are all baby things. On the other hand, Dan's wife obviously bought all the stuff and wrote on the card. In fact, Dan didn't even sign his name himself, his wife did. So there is my question. Is opening a baby gift with your friend in the car gay?
Friday, June 27, 2008
A letter to my nephew
My nephew and his looney hair turned 13 next week. My sister in law asked that some men in his life write him a letter and, as his uncle, I was one of the esteemed men to write a letter to him that she was going to bind together and give to him. Here is the letter.
Dear Daniel,
So your mom asked us to write you these letters about what it means to be man as you run head long into adolescence. It’s quite a task and one I’ve put off for a few days. I’ve ran different ideas of what to say, but haven’t actually put to paper my thoughts until now. In fact, my thoughts were a lot clearer before I started to type here right now, but deadlines always seem to get me going and your mom wants this today so here goes.
The question you may be asking yourself is what does it mean to be man? (Maybe you’re not, but go with me, here.) If you look at the media, you know, TV, movies, commercials, most popular music, being a man means being an oafish, lazy guy who always follows his baser desires for things like beer and sex, usually doing anything possible to ignore work and family. Either that or men are crazy with anger and hatred who push everyone away on the misguided belief that they shouldn’t show things like love and kindness. The world today has pretty low view of men, and there’s not much we can do about that. Except live our lives in a way that is different from the prevailing view of masculinity.
A real man is a man who works hard at his job, supports his family, both financially and emotionally, loves his wife with all his heart, and raises his kids with a loving hand. As a brand new teenager, you’re still a long way from some of these things. However, the decisions you make over the next 5 or 10 years will shape the rest of your life for better or for worse. Decide now to make education and hard work a priority. Decide now to have good friends who encourage you in the right ways than the wrong ways. Decide now to honor your parents. Decide now to keep your ego and anger in check. Decide now to delay emotional and sexual gratification until the right time. Decide now to make Jesus Christ first in your life. But it’s not enough to decide once and then go one. You must decide every single day. And when failure comes, and it definitely will, get up dust yourself off and keep going.
Daniel, you have a bright future ahead of you. I pray that as you move into this time of great change, you’ll always be focused on Jesus.
Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Ephesians 6:10-13
Sincerely,
Russell
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Retirement?
I've played baseball/ softball since I was 5. My first baseball experience was t-ball Barney's Auto Supply with Lewisville Little League. We won the league championship that year, but since then I've mostly played on losers. I went from being a short stop and first baseman to outfield most of my little league career which ended after my freshman year in high school.
I took up intramural softball after that in college and played all four years with the Theta team. The best team I played on was in my freshman year where we lost in the semifinals to the team that eventually won. I started off playing 2nd, but a member of the frat decided he wanted to be 2nd base so I moved to the position I eventually stayed at, catcher. One of my best softball moments came in that semifinals game that I hit a triple (I promise I'm not lying. I honestly hit a triple. Actually I hit two that year.) and knocked the go ahead runs in the top of the last inning. In the bottom of that inning, the guy who took over 2nd booted a ball that would have been the third out and we lost. I was sure I would have made that play.
I took up playing church league softball during my college years and played with Elmcrest, playing mostly in the outfield. I took a couple of years off when I moved to Kazakhstan. I wasn't even smart enough to take a glove with me. When I got back my friends and I formed another church league team at FBC Lewisville. We were one of the worst teams ever put together. But I remember beating a team that I can't remember the name, but they were big time almost pro softball players and we beat them one time. They were so mad. The next game we played, they run ruled us.
I've been playing the last three years since we moved to Nashville with Forest Hills. I played a little first base, a little 2nd base when we've been desperate, but mostly I've been at catcher. I settled at catcher, because no one else has ever wanted to be catcher. I knew that I would be able to play consistently. I also was able to see the whole field and be what I'm really probably best at, which is coaching and trying to direct the defense. I had a umpire tell me last year that I was a very intelligent player.
As this year has winded down, I've come to wonder if this should be my last year playing softball. There have been a couple of things that pushed me in that direction. First of all, I hurt my back a couple weeks ago and had to miss a game. I think I pulled a muscle when I went down into the catchers crouch. I tried and tried to stretch it out, but I couldn't. I played the game and even tagged a guy out at home, but I couldn't hardly swing the bat and since we had enough players, I decided to go home instead of playing the 2nd game. I was able to play the next game, but it made me nervous. I've had injuries before, mostly to my ankles as I've sprained both of them. But never had I done anything like this.
Also, I seem to have lost the ability to hit the ball. Since I took up softball in college, I've been a good hitter or at least I've been consistent. I mentioned the triples I hit college. Really there was no wall down in left field so I basically hit it a long way and out ran the outfielders. If I had had any speed, I would have scored. Now I can't hit it very far. Another skill I had for years was to be able to hit the other way and hit it hard. I had a number of doubles going that way back then. Well, not enough. I was too afraid to even try to go that way even though I remember basically how to do it. But above all, I just hit the ball solidly just about every time I got up. Now I'm having a harder and harder time to get good hits on the ball. I've done ok, but sometimes I wonder if I actually help the team.
Finally, although I'm still one of the few who want to play catcher. I'm basically limited to that position. I played a game at 1st early in the year and did fine, but I definitely can't play the outfield or middle infield. I'm stuck. I don't like being a one position player.
So should I give it up? Nah. I mean, I may not being a place where I can play next year. If I'm at FH and they want me to play. I'll play. I have fun with the guys and while we aren't any good (as usual for me), it's still fun.
I took up intramural softball after that in college and played all four years with the Theta team. The best team I played on was in my freshman year where we lost in the semifinals to the team that eventually won. I started off playing 2nd, but a member of the frat decided he wanted to be 2nd base so I moved to the position I eventually stayed at, catcher. One of my best softball moments came in that semifinals game that I hit a triple (I promise I'm not lying. I honestly hit a triple. Actually I hit two that year.) and knocked the go ahead runs in the top of the last inning. In the bottom of that inning, the guy who took over 2nd booted a ball that would have been the third out and we lost. I was sure I would have made that play.
I took up playing church league softball during my college years and played with Elmcrest, playing mostly in the outfield. I took a couple of years off when I moved to Kazakhstan. I wasn't even smart enough to take a glove with me. When I got back my friends and I formed another church league team at FBC Lewisville. We were one of the worst teams ever put together. But I remember beating a team that I can't remember the name, but they were big time almost pro softball players and we beat them one time. They were so mad. The next game we played, they run ruled us.
I've been playing the last three years since we moved to Nashville with Forest Hills. I played a little first base, a little 2nd base when we've been desperate, but mostly I've been at catcher. I settled at catcher, because no one else has ever wanted to be catcher. I knew that I would be able to play consistently. I also was able to see the whole field and be what I'm really probably best at, which is coaching and trying to direct the defense. I had a umpire tell me last year that I was a very intelligent player.
As this year has winded down, I've come to wonder if this should be my last year playing softball. There have been a couple of things that pushed me in that direction. First of all, I hurt my back a couple weeks ago and had to miss a game. I think I pulled a muscle when I went down into the catchers crouch. I tried and tried to stretch it out, but I couldn't. I played the game and even tagged a guy out at home, but I couldn't hardly swing the bat and since we had enough players, I decided to go home instead of playing the 2nd game. I was able to play the next game, but it made me nervous. I've had injuries before, mostly to my ankles as I've sprained both of them. But never had I done anything like this.
Also, I seem to have lost the ability to hit the ball. Since I took up softball in college, I've been a good hitter or at least I've been consistent. I mentioned the triples I hit college. Really there was no wall down in left field so I basically hit it a long way and out ran the outfielders. If I had had any speed, I would have scored. Now I can't hit it very far. Another skill I had for years was to be able to hit the other way and hit it hard. I had a number of doubles going that way back then. Well, not enough. I was too afraid to even try to go that way even though I remember basically how to do it. But above all, I just hit the ball solidly just about every time I got up. Now I'm having a harder and harder time to get good hits on the ball. I've done ok, but sometimes I wonder if I actually help the team.
Finally, although I'm still one of the few who want to play catcher. I'm basically limited to that position. I played a game at 1st early in the year and did fine, but I definitely can't play the outfield or middle infield. I'm stuck. I don't like being a one position player.
So should I give it up? Nah. I mean, I may not being a place where I can play next year. If I'm at FH and they want me to play. I'll play. I have fun with the guys and while we aren't any good (as usual for me), it's still fun.
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