May 092011
 

The ice cream man came by my house on Saturday.  If you are as old as I am, or a lucky youngster who happens to live in one of the few neighborhoods he still visits, you have seen him before.  He drives a beat-up white van or panel truck with colorful pictures of frozen treats all over it.  Sometimes there’s a big clown hat on the top, and always, there is a loud speaker blaring out some corny tune.  Nine times out of ten, it’s “Turkey in the Straw.”

As he slowly cruises by each house, he hopes to draw the kids out with his music.  It sounds fun.  The truck looks colorful and exciting with pictures splashed on almost every inch.   And the ice cream . . . the ice cream he brings is . . . well . . . mediocre at best.   Sometimes old.  Sometimes half thawed.  Other times frozen so hard you can hardly bite it.    But that doesn’t stop the kids from running to the curb and waiting for the truck to come by, eager to purchase the mediocre ice cream from the ice cream man.  Why?

It’s an even stranger question when I admit that I am at times, still one of those kids.    Hear the tune.  See the truck go by, headed deep into the heart of the neighborhood.  Now run to the curb and wait.  He’s coming back on his way out.  I hear the music getting closer.  What will I get?  An ice cream sandwich?  A red white and blue “bomb-pop?”  One of those orange push-up things on a stick?  The excitement of the purchase takes over.  It doesn’t matter that it is not the best ice cream.  What matters is that it is the best way to buy it.  This past Saturday I resisted the urge, but next time, I’m running to the curb.

Sometimes my heart overrules my head.   Sometimes it matters.  Sometimes it doesn’t.

 

 

Apr 202011
 

There is a guy who works at Wendy’s.  I have seen him there for the 20 years I have lived here, but he told me yesterday that he has actually been working there for 28 years.   He cleans the tables, throws out the trash, checks on the bathrooms and does a few other odd jobs.  He walks with a limp, which hints at some past injury that has left him less than “perfect.”

He is not management.  He is not a grill operator.  He does not work the register.  I suspect he has not been blessed with the talents necessary to do those jobs.   What he does do faithfully even after 28 years, is clean off the tables and throw out the trash.  I know it sounds crazy, but for reasons I don’t even fully understand, I find myself admiring him more than most managers, VPs and CEOs I know.

Apr 052011
 

My dentist fixes flat tires.  I know because he fixed mine.  I don’t know if he does it for everybody, but I do know that he did it for me, and I was truly surprised.   I have been thinking about it ever since.

Tammy and Sam had a dentist appointment to get their teeth cleaned yesterday.  When they arrived and went in to the dentist’s office, everything appeared normal.  They got their teeth cleaned, saw the dentist for a few minutes, then left the office as usual.  While walking to the van, they looked up and noticed the right front tire was flat.  Shortly after that, I got a phone call, just as I was buying my lunch.  It seemed I was going to spend my lunch hour helping them change a tire, so I jumped in my car and headed for the dentist’s office.

When I arrived, I noticed a guy was standing out by Tammy’s van, helping with the task.  As I parked and got out of the car, I was surprised to see the good Samaritan was none other than our dentist.  He said hello and joked about getting a round tire next time instead of one that was flat on one side.

As I focused on the task at hand, he proceeded to help with the details.  I jacked up the van then he loaned me a tire iron so I could loosen the lug nuts and pull the flat tire off.   He and Tammy found the hole, then the good doctor promptly pulled a patch kit out of his trunk and proceeded to repair the tire.  By the time I got the spare on the van, he had already plugged the hole in the original tire and had whipped out a portable air compressor.  He had the patched tire almost full of air by the time I tightened the last lug nut on the spare.   I think he was almost disappointed that I didn’t just put the original tire back on.   I was unsure the plug would hold.  It has.  I guess you should never second guess a dentist when it comes to filling holes, in teeth or tires.

I left Tammy packing the jack and tools back in the van and I headed back to the office.  Ever since then, I have been thinking about this dentist-turned-mechanic who was prepared, ready, willing, and able to help in a way I would never have expected.  I expected him to be a dentist.  But he would not be so narrowly defined.  Dentist is but one line on his resume.  “Mechanic,” and “Good Samaritan” are also there.  Perhaps there are many other lines I would never guess.

I am still thinking about it.  I am also wondering who else I have defined too narrowly.  I am wondering how many people thought of Jesus as only a carpenter?  I wonder even if the apostle Paul thought of himself as a missionary, or just a tent maker?  Maybe we all define people, and even ourselves, too narrowly.  Maybe we should consider there is more about people than we will ever know.  Maybe.  But what do I know?  I’m just a computer guy.

Mar 232011
 

Sam and I came across some bones while on our Sunday walk.  A skeleton of sorts.  It was the backbone and rib cage of what I can only guess was a deer.  It was kinda weird to see it laying there by the side of the road so we stood for a while, trying to figure out what it was.  Before concluding that it had been a deer, we speculated on a few other options . . .  an alligator perhaps?  A very large dog?  Maybe a dinosaur whose bones had been washed up by the rain?  OK, maybe not a dinosaur, but it was fun to speculate.

Deer Bones

Where did these bones come from?

I never thought about it much, but whatever it was, it most certainly is not that now.  For it to be a deer, it must be alive.  Otherwise, it is the bones of a deer, or the body of a deer, or the skin of a deer, but not a deer.  Now it’s just the dead bones of a deer and whatever happened, it must have happened pretty quickly.  The last time Sam and I walked the gravel road, the bones were not there.  We considered the possibilities and decided this must be the poor deer’s story:

He was running along in the woods when he decided he was not happy where he was.  He wanted to be someplace else, so he headed out across Buford Highway to get to the woods and the gravel road on the other side.  Along came a car and ruined his plan, blindsiding him.  Mortally injured, he stumbled on across the road and down to the woods and gravel road along the other side.  There, he finally fell in the ditch and died.   The buzzards must have promptly picked away at him, leaving just these bones laying by the dirt road.

The story is familiar.  It happens to people too.  They go the wrong way at the wrong time and get blindsided.  Then along come the “buzzards” to pick at them while they are down, tearing away all that is left of them, leaving nothing but dry bones and no life.  Sometimes I am the deer.  Sometimes I am the car.  Sometimes, I am even the buzzard.  And there are definitely days when I feel like the dry bones.   But God, He is the one that can give life even to dry bones, and thankfully, He does.

“I will put My Spirit within you and you will come to life, and I will place you on your own land. Then you will know that I, the LORD, have spoken and done it,” declares the LORD.'”
–  Ezekiel 37:14 NASB     Read Ezekiel 37:1-14 for the story of the dry bones come to life

Mar 152011
 

There was a parade in downtown Denver on Saturday.  It was a celebration of St. Patrick’s Day.  People lined the streets, where they cheered and waved as the parade participants flowed through the crowd.

I watched for a while, wondering who these people were who marched so proudly through the onlookers.  Were they famous people?  Or just people who could pay the fee to participate and now played the part of someone important?  Did the crowds even realize or care who the parade participants were?  Perhaps I would know a little more if I were a citizen and not just visiting Denver, but I would guess even the citizens had little notion of who most of the people were.  They really didn’t care.  They were there for the party. 

It’s kind of odd that people like to go see parades.  They shout and cheer as though the accolades given to the participants some how add to their own importance.  Then they walk away and forget it all.

I was in a parade once.  It was a small little Christmas parade in Huntsville, Alabama.  Which proves that just about anybody could participate in a parade who really wants to.  Maybe not the Rose Bowl Parade or Macy’s Christmas Parade, but some parade.  The Denver St. Patrick’s day parade, or the Huntsville Christmas parade seem to be available to all.  I suspect there are plenty other small town parades that folks could join if they wanted to.

Even so, it appears some folks would rather just stand on the sidelines and party.  They smile and wave while the parade marches by them.

Mar 012011
 

Well, this might be my last post before heading to Haiti on a mission trip.  I am going to help with a teen retreat.  As usual, I face the trip with a mixture of excitement, fear and trepidation.  I am anxious.   What if I don’t have enough material?  What if I don’t have the right material?  I don’t have the energy.  I don’t have the right personality.  I am not prepared.  I can’t do this.

So I ask for your prayers.  I ask that you pray for the youth of Haiti.  Pray that God will touch their hearts.  Pray that God will change their lives.  Pray that God will do a mighty work.   Pray that I will not get in the way. 

That is my prayer.  If i can but go to Haiti and see God at work, i will be blessed.  If He, in some small way, uses me in that work, i will be greatly blessed.  He is in charge.  It is His work.  And when i get back in a little over a week from now, i will tell you some great stories of what HE did while i was in Haiti.

 Posted by at 7:10 am  Tagged with:
Feb 222011
 

[ Warning!  If there is anyone out their who thinks I have perfected the Christian experience, the following post contains a big spoiler! ]

We are called to love, but is it wrong to hate a dog?  We have a dog that severely tests me.  I chased him all over the neighborhood this week end and never caught him.  Every time I would get close to  him, he would run the other way.  The things that welled up in my heart and mind were not good.  Not good at all.

Feb 152011
 

Getting in the way of oncoming traffic can be dangerous, especially if that oncoming traffic is me. Over the course of my life, I have run over a few things. I have splattered countless bugs on the windshield, perhaps squished a frog or two, and quite probably crushed a poor turtle.  I remember hitting a squirrel, a bat, something I still don’t know what it was, and . . . my sister. Yes, I have run over my sister. Fortunately for her, I was driving my bike at the time, so she survived. The squirrel did not fair so well against a 1970 Ford Mustang.

Me & Sam walking a gravel trail.

Running over something gives me a bad feeling.  It’s like I’m bigger, stronger, faster, and the poor little victim didn’t have a chance.  It makes me feel like I was somehow careless.  But in most instances, that is simply not the case.  I know.  I have to keep reminding my sister that.

Megan was only about two or three years old when it happened.  I was five or six.  I was just learning to ride a bike and she was still fine tuning the art of getting around on two legs.  Unfortunately, we both decided to practice in the driveway.   I was riding my bike along the middle of the driveway; she was walking down it.

As I recall, it was just an old gravel driveway with a hump of grass growing in the middle.  Of course, this represented an extra challenge for an inexperienced bike rider, as the gravel and humps of grass made it difficult to steer.  Honestly, I was afraid to turn.  I was barely keeping the bike upright, sure that one little turn to the right or left would literally be my downfall.  So as I concentrated all  my efforts on keeping my little self on a large bike in the middle of the driveway, I looked up.  There was my sister, walking down the middle of the driveway. 

I hollared “Move out of the way!”  Little Megan looked back at me, then turned and started running . . . right down the middle of the driveway.  “Move!” I screamed.  Her little legs were pumping as fast as they could, but I was quickly gaining ground on her baby backside.  I refused to try to turn.  She could not do anything but run down the middle of the driveway.  Eventually, I bumped her, she fell, and from toe to head, I ran over her.  Poor little sister.  If she had only stepped to the side.

I remember wondering why she didn’t run the other way.  Why didn’t she step aside?  Having grown a little older, and perhaps wisened a bit by having three kids of my own, I realize it’s because she was young.  She only knew to stay on the path.  She didn’t even consider changing course. 

Yesterday, I read about a couple of guys who did the same thing.  They were young Christians and had been given a course to follow.  They were simply telling the story of Jesus.  The Powers of the day commanded them to stop.  Peter and John said, “Whether it is right in the sight of God to give heed to you rather than to God, you be the judge; for we cannot stop speaking about what we have seen and heard.”  Peter and John did not even consider turning from the course Jesus had set for them.  It was the only way they could go, even if it meant being run over.  They didn’t scream.  They didn’t fight.  They simply kept going down the path; moving even faster.  They had the “Megan” attitude.  Run me over if you have to, but I can’t even consider changing course.

But when they had commanded them to go aside out of the council, they conferred among themselves, saying, “What shall we do to these men? For, indeed, that a notable miracle has been done through them is evident to all who dwell in Jerusalem, and we cannot deny it. “But so that it spreads no further among the people, let us severely threaten them, that from now on they speak to no man in this name.” And they called them and commanded them not to speak at all nor teach in the name of Jesus.  But Peter and John answered and said to them, “Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you more than to God, you judge. “For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard.”
   – Acts 4:15-20

Feb 072011
 

I saw Saturn early this morning.  So did a lot of other people, they just didn’t notice.  Anyone who glanced at the sky could have seen it.  From here on Earth, it looks like a star of average brightness.  Until you look through a telescope. 

A telescope brings a wonder that is high above into earthly view.  It has no light of it’s own, but when properly aligned, a telescope collects and magnifies the light, allowing others to see Heavenly sites.  It doesn’t take a big telescope to see amazing things, just one that is pointed in the right direction.

Someday, I want to be a telescope.