The Little Things

I have been trying to do the following little actions while I am the interim pastor of this small coastal church.


Although I have thoroughly enjoyed myself up to now, and I have surprisingly learned a few things about myself and my God; my wife and I are still operating on the assumption that our tenure there is only until the end of June. And that means that there is not a whole lot of time to accomplished what God would have us do.

So, that means we have to be quite focused and intentional in regards to ministry. Their initial need in a pastor that they wanted filled was, in this order, to show pastoral care as a shepherd, to be strong as a preacher, and finally to be able to conduct out reach.

I set up a visitation sheet for the members in which to sign up. Since I am only there from Friday through Sunday, this sheet would give me the ability to visit those who desired one on one time with the pastor. To date, there have only been four who have utilized the sign up sheet, but hopefully in time more will use the sign up list. And for those who thought the wanted a pastor who would visit his members, the sheet shows my attempt in this area.

They also wanted someone who was a strong preacher or speaker. This is the area I am the most confident in. I am not saying that I am wonderful at speaking, but I try very hard to communicate clearly and in a way that can be understood. And apparently I have a lot of stories to share. I make sure every word is thought out and either used or not used depending upon the need.

The third is outreach. How this small band of believers can effectively be light to a community who thinks differently than they do is the challenge. Since the holidays are upon us, this is a natural time for reaching other people. But when January comes, our church will have to intentionally focus on reaching a people who do not know Jesus.

But now, back to the little things. And I know that they may, on the surface, seem insignificant, but I pray that they are being useful.

1. Since I am only there on the weekends for face to face, I have started e-mailing the people who attend our church, at least those with e-mails, a couple of Bible verses with a little commentary on my part. I call it “Mid-Week Musings of the Minister”. I am picking verses in the Psalms. My intent is to share comfort, give encouragement, and show how much God care about us.

2. Every week, before Sunday morning, I will write a note on the dry erase boards in the children’s and youth classroom. It is usually something short like, “Hey, don’t forget you are loved by the King”, but I think and hope they like it.

3. On Saturday, I have been walking the sanctuary and looking at each seat that will be available for the service on the next day and I say a quick prayer that the Lord would bless those who will come and sit. I also pray that I would be able to communicate His word accurately and clearly.

4. Even though for most of the time we have been at the coast, we have experienced a lot of wind and rain, I have been able to walk the few short blocks to the church building from the cottage where we are staying. The bad weather seems to take a break at the time I need to leave. Well so far, anyway. When I arrive at the church, I stop at the sign where there is a small red cross sticking up from the top of the sign, and I pray. I pray for the service to come, for the people attending the service, for the people leading the service, and for the people who won’t be there at the service. I pray that we will be used to honor God.

5. After I arrive at the church building on Sunday morning, I will go into the study and listen to one of these songs. And with decent volume, I might add. “It is You” by Newsboys; “Jesus Messiah” by Chris Tomlin; “Let the Worshippers Arise” by Phillips, Craig, and Dean; or “I See You” by Rich Mullins.

There you have it. Little things I know. And the ramifications of those little things are yet to be determined, but they are something that I believe are important. Perhaps, it is the little things in life that set the stage for the great things that will happen.
So, my advice to you is, “Stay little, stay strong!”

Busy Times Indeed

As we are finishing up our fourth full week of our new ministry and our new half-time here and half-time there schedule, here is a quick run down of how our week fills out. I am not complaining by any means, but I am still trying to adjust to this new busyness and natural time demands that direct us.


Monday
On Monday morning, T. gets up and is off to her part time job at the University. Generally, she is up at 7:00am and I follow shortly thereafter. I try to get he lunch ready and some breakfast before she is out of the house driving to her job by 8:00am. She then works from 8:30am-2:00pm, sometimes its 2:30 or 3:00, and then comes home. My son will wake anywhere between 7:30 to 8:30. I get him up, dressed, fed, and then he will watch “his shows”. They include Sesame Street, Clifford, Word World, and sometimes Super Why. It originally was going to be a “down” day for me to relax and not do a lot, but this week I found myself doing some study and writing. I think I will continue to do that as my mind is still somewhat engaged because of the weekend.

There is also during the day and after T. gets home, some housework that will get done. We will get the kitchen clean, do a bit of laundry and clean the house in anticipation for the evening. Oh yeah, and make some dinner. Monday evening is our Small Group Bible Study at our house from 6:30-7:45pm. Seven to nine of us adults meet and joining us, throughout the house, are eight to twelve children (ages range from one to twelve years old). Needless to say, it is loud and a lot of motion. But all of the parents there are used to the noise and we all seem to take turns making sure nobody is hurt and not too much destruction occurs. It is an enjoyable time and the people are fun and wonderful.

Tuesday
The morning is about the same as Mondays. I will usually make a call to the church on the coast (which I forgot today) for a catch-up and to see if there is anything pressing. I will spend most of the day studying and preparing for the messages I will preach on Sunday. I basically need to work up three (one for a Friday Bible study, an AM sermon and a PM sermon) messages for the weekend. We get more laundry done (usually for the coast trip) and do whatever grocery shopping for both places. Tuesday is our only free night here in town, so there is a lot to do. We get dinner taken care of and watch one of our favorite dramas on TV.

Wednesday
This becomes the final prep time for the coast, laundry, study, shopping, cleaning, writing, hopefully to take some pictures and house stuff. After T. gets home, we make dinner, as she gets ready to go to our home church to lead the middle and high school youth group. She leaves about 5:00 and picks up a bunch of them and then by the time the group time is over and rides are given she gets home about 9:00pm.

Thursday
Now we are at final prep time. We make sure we have whatever clothes we need to take over to the coast house. We do have clothes already over there but these are the ones that we came home wearing on Sunday or new ones to swap out. We pack up the cooler for some food transfer and load the car with computer, camera, Bible, notes, etc. I make sure the garbage is out for the next day and clean the house so we don’t have to do it when we get back home. T. gets off work and we usually leave for the coast twenty minutes later. The drive over takes about three hours. That will include a stop for a quick bite to eat. And then we arrive at our coast cottage rental, unpack and try to relax for the evening watching a few comedies.

Friday
I will get up and head over to the church building to do a little cleaning and getting ready for my extended weekend ministry. There is usually a quick meeting with leaders of different church ministries before our 11:30-1:00 Prayer and Bible Study time. After it is over T. and our son to head back to the cottage while I go and make some home visits. After the home visit schedule time, I try to make some casual visits to people in the community to get to know them. So, I go to their shops and just chat or I talk to people as I pass by on the street. Then it is back home for dinner and catch-up on friends online chats and such.

Saturday
Up in the morning and over to the church for some office appointments and then whatever home visits that are scheduled. We’ve been doing a little rearranging of classrooms and just over all tidying up. I try to look at some files to get to know the church and people and history a little better. I also walk the sanctuary and ponder and say a little prayer for the people who will be sitting in the pews, yes pews, then next day. After that, I’ll go back to the cottage and have some dinner. We usually give little I. a bath, and get him off to bed. T. and I will stay up a bit and get ready for the day tomorrow. She is playing the piano and planning some of the worship services and I am doing last minute changes to the message. Then off to bed we will go. Oh yeah, usually Saturday morning is pancake morning. Yay!

Sunday
All of us are up and dressed and fed to head to church. The weather has been relatively dry in the morning up to this point, so I will grab my notes and walk over to the church. It is only about six short blocks and gives me some time to observe and maybe say hi to someone else who is out walking. Once I get to the church property, I am making a point to stop at the cross on the sign at the corner of the church property. I pause to thank God for the day and pray that He will use me and I would be faithful to Him and to the congregation. Once all of the deacons, yes deacons, are there we have a time of prayer for the service and the people and then off we go to Sunday school. I try to “pop” into all of the various classes; in this case there are three (children’s, youth, and adult) and then settle on one to study with. I. goes to his primary class, ages 3 to 7ish, and T. goes and sits in with the youth (middle and high school) class. I will generally end up with the adults.

Then we have the service. We have made a bit of change to the order, but for the most part, it is a traditional type of service. After the singing, the responsive reading, the offering, the special music, it is my turn to preach. I still don’t know how long their normal service times were, but these have been lasting about an hour and fifteen minutes. There is an invitational hymn and the first Sunday of the month we have communion. And there is a business meeting on the second Sunday of every month.

After that, we go back to the cottage and have lunch and whereI like to watch the Seahawks win. Yes, I’m a dreamer. We also are doing laundry there, cleaning the kitchen, sweeping and vacuuming the cottage and packing up the things we will be taking back with us. At 5:00-6:00pm we go over to the church for the evening service. After it is over, as close to 6:05 as we can, T., I., and myself hop into the car and start our three-hourish trip back to the valley. Our goal is to be home by 9:00pm so we can get the boy to bed and take a breath or two before we slumber off to sleep, ready for the next morning with T. off to work, I. with his day and me doing what I do. And then our week starts all over again.

We are still in the “getting accustomed to” this schedule and with each week that passes, I am feeling more comfortable. I recognize that we are probably no any busier than the next family, but it still seems, at times, rushed. So I am not complaining or desiring sympathy. I just wanted you to know.

So, with that I will close so I can get ready to “mount up with wings like eagles”. Gotta fly.

The New LIfe

I am sitting in out little coastal apartment on a Saturday evening.  I thought that I would keep you updated with what has been happening.  We are three weeks in (or more accurately three weekends in) with our new ministry pastoring the small church on the coast.

It has been amazing not only how things have come together to make this happen, but how blessed we have been up to this point.  On many levels.  This is our first week in our little cottage. 

As this is a bi-vocational position (bi-vocational meaning part time), we needed a place to stay while we were here for the three days.  I had arranged to say in a motel with one bedroom in town.  It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but we determined that it would be doable, but a bit costly. 

As soon as we agreed to the position, we received an e-mail from a member of the church there offering us their vacation rental cottage for the eight months of our interim service.  They said hat they would take it off the rental market and we could have it seven days a week, so it could be ours.  They offered it to us at a reasonable rate, which was the same price that we originally had hoped to find so our financial situation could be eased a bit.

The place is wonderful.  It is a little two-bedroom cottage, panted blue with white trim.  The inside has soft yellow painted walls with a beach house décor.  The view from our windows include the mountains, a sandy beach inlet, a market, the post office, the back of a fish café, and their crab cages.  It is wonderful.

The church we are serving has a small building and averages about 40-45 people on a Sunday morning.  Last week’s attendance was 53.  The style of the worship service is traditional with a country feel.  Now, this is certainly not the style that I prefer, and hopefully some “adjustments” can be made, but I am focusing primarily upon teaching and building relationships.  Most of the people attending are retired with the exception of maybe four families, including us, who are younger.  And by younger, I mean not retired.

I will say that, even though I have only been there a short time, these people really like one another and are doing he best that they can to be the light to their community.  In some cases, they may not know how to reach and relate to the other town members, but they truly seem genuine.  I realize that with time ones true nature is always revealed, but for the present, they seem to enjoy each other company.  Their midday Bible study, which they just moved to Fridays to accommodate my schedule, begins with people sharing any prayer requests or things for which they are thankful.  After about fifteen minutes of sharing, they then begin to pray.  And they pray for each request, and for the praises, and for each person that was on the list.  They pray by name and with detail.  They even pray for any visitors that were there the previous Sunday.  Most visitors that attend the worship service are usually vacationing in the area or are passing through on their vacation.  But they pray for them anyway, knowing that we may never see them again.

The prayer time take twenty minutes or so, and then with whatever time is left over, we have a Bible study.  It is apparent that church believer, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that God not only hears their petitions, He also acts upon them.  It was an honor to share in that time.

As with a coastal town, this town and church gets their share of vagabonds and transients passing through needing assistance for some need..  The church members told me it is only periodically that we come in contact with the needy, but I have been in the area for five weekends total, counting the two times I was there before I was officially called, and have been involved with three different scenarios.  One person they fed and a member gave them a ride to the next town 25 miles away.  One couple was given food and some money to put gas in their car.  The most recent couple were give a motel room for the night, and the guys socks were all wet, so a member went home and grabbed a pair of his own to give the man.  All of this generosity knowing they will probably never see them again.

All in all, it is good that we are here.  Good for them and good for us. 

More to tell. But for now, some pictures of our new second hometown.

Ch- ch- ch- changes

As I have mentioned previously, there was change coming. Well, it is now here. At least the start of it, anyway. After quitting my job fifteen months ago, I had set out to attempt to accomplish four things. (To not work in off price retail for a while, to spend more time with my wife and son, to hopefully try to work for myself somehow, and to really place trust in God to provide for our needs.)

I had originally thought that we could last a year at our current status. God, during that time, provided us with some unexpected blessings, and it looked like, perhaps we could go another year. But, through all of this time, there were things happening and decisions to be made. As a person trusts in God to provide, that person still has to be aware of opportunities that may come up.

I have, for some time, felt the need or desire to be able to share the things that were happening in my journey of faith, and sometimes faithlessness. That is one of the reasons that I started writing this blog. I also have felt the need to share God’s message of His Son and salvation and hope through trusting in Him. So, I let a couple of churches know that I was available to pastor again, if that was something that would be of use to them. I really didn’t think that anything would come of that, but for several reasons, I felt I was doing that out of obedience.

With all of that being said, for at least the next eight months, I will be the pastor of a church in a small coastal town. My family and I will travel there for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to minister and serve the church, and then come home so T. can still work at the University. It will be a busy time and am not sure the ultimate outcome will be, but we both thought strongly that we still needed our home base to be where we are currently. We have many friends here and those connections run deep, and will need their prayers and support as we venture out to serve.

Several things happened that truly confirmed to us that, at this time, this was what we needed to do. And, as always, God provided opportunity, a working schedule, support, and a place to stay that was far beyond what we could have imagined.
Just wanted you all to know before we hit the road.


Sincerely,
Your itinerant friend

Impending Change part two

I have been in the midst of this impending change scenario for a while. Nothing is conclusive at this time, but there seems to be movement in a couple areas of our lives. We will still have to wait and see how it all plays out. There will certainly decisions to be made. Which sounds ominous, I know, but that is just the reality of things at the present time.


I find it odd when I, or any one else for that matter, say they have a decision to make. Like, all of a sudden I am face to face with a choice and I will need to ponder through things until I come up with the decision. I mean, like decisions periodically and randomly just come into our lives. Truth is, that is all we do. Make decisions. Our life consists of constant decision-making.

Now, I do recognize that all decisions aren’t in the same category of importance, urgency, or of life altering changes, but they all, no matter how small or insignificant seeming at the time, do affect us and place direction upon our lives. What a person decides to eat, in the short run matters not, but in the long run, an unhealthy diet can cause issues later on with bigger and important decisions needing to be made, perhaps, in order to save a life.

But, the reality is that every thing we do is based upon a choice with a decision to make that choice. Or to make the other choice, if we so decide. We decide to get out of bed or to not. We decide to wear a dress shirt or a T-shirt. We decide to eat bacon and eggs or oatmeal. We decide when we need to put gas in our car, or not. We decide to go to work, or not.

Every second of every day is making a decision with the choice laid out before us. And each decision leads us to another decision, which in turn, leads to another decision. And so on, and so on. All this to simply say, I have a decision. Hope I make a good one.

Impending Change

Periodically, I have these moments where I sense that something is going to happen. I don’t mean a doom and gloom prophecy, or a world changing prediction. I just mean, that in my life, there are certain times in which I become increasingly aware that things are going to move in a different direction or path than life, especially my life, is now heading.


And, like I have just mentioned, this is one of those times. In the next couple of weeks, there will have to be some decisions made and choices picked. More on the specifics later but suffice it to say, it will affect us.

For as long as I can remember, my life has been like that. First, there seems to be a feeling in me that something is shifting in my world. Though I cannot, at that particular moment, put my finger on it, or conclusively say what the outcome will be, I do know that it has started. And then I begin to pay attention. And I, even at times, make some little decisions to, well, try to determine the direction the big change seems to be on.

My wife was talking to her boss about the events I am speaking of, and his comment was that I “seemed to have been on a journey to figure himself out lately “. She agreed and said that seemed like “such a perspective probably could cover his whole life… that he’s always been pondering one season to the next.” And, so it stands to reason that I am just keenly aware of the process and details of the journey itself. I just don’t realize it, because my brain doesn’t work like that. I don’t seem to be able to separate and diagnose things like that.

Turns out that I don’t recognize my modus operandi as a human. At least until someone tells me the way I function. For instance, someone once told me that I would enjoy a certain musical artist because the artist, like me, was a dreamer. Me, a dreamer? I hadn’t really thought about it. I thought everybody reflects upon the what-ifs and the possibilities. I thought everybody ponders and wonders, hopes and imagines. That does explain my décor sign that simply has the word “IMAGINE” upon it. Yeah, I guess I am a dreamer.

More than one person has told me that I was abstract. I don’t know what that means. Okay, I know what abstract mean. I just don’t know that they mean when they say I think and speak abstractly. They tell me that I don’t understand because I don’t just think or speak in an abstract manner, but because my entire being “is” abstract. Now what am I going to do with that information? I just take everybody’s comments and observations and placed them in a new manila folder and put them in my backpack and head down the path of life and see where this journey is leading me and what type of terrain I am to traverse. Ooooooh! I get it now, I think. Yeah, I guess I am abstract.

Back to my main point. There is definitely going to be change. Just don’t know what it is yet. And here is where faith and trust comes in to play. When changes happen in life, do we, as people of God, claim the assurance that He is in control and is carrying out His will for our lives? And do we, as people of God, make choices and decisions, based upon our relationship with Him? Yes, and our choices and decisions need to be weighed using those factors, i.e. (He being in control and our relationship with Him).

Therein is the struggle of faith and trust. And perhaps that is the expedition that we are ultimately on. The walk “through” faith. Can’t wait to see what is on the other side.

Mixed Emotions

I know that a lot of people commented and wrote about things concerning September 11th. And rightly so. This past Sunday marked the ten-year anniversary of that horrible day.


Yes, I remember where I was when it happened. Yes, I even watched the events live as it was being aired on television. Yes, I will never forget. It was a terrible. That day, September 11th, will no doubt always be remembered as a day of sorrow, grief, shock, fear, and anger.

There are three people in my life that have, alongside of those memories of the day, different memories. My sister’s birthday is September 11th. My wife has an aunt whose birthday is also on September 11th. And two of our friends have their wedding anniversary on that day. And all of those events should be observed with joy and laughter. But I am sure that for each of them, and all others who have that date as one of significance, the joy seems to be a bit diluted as they also remember.

The Bible says that we are to “weep with those who weep”. And we certainly do. One can’t help but be moved, join in with the sorrow, and yes, even cry about those events from ten years ago. I am saddened by the lives lost, by the grief of the living family members, and the nightmares of the survivors. My pray is that they all come to know Jesus as their Savior. Though it still might not make sense to them, I know a relationship with Jesus will bring about peace. Might take awhile, but it will happen. In John 16:33, Jesus said, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

The Bible also says that we are to “rejoice with those who rejoice”. And we certainly did. We went to the open house to honor the 40th wedding anniversary of good friends. They had pictures from various times of their lives along with wedding pictures. The bride’s gown was sitting out with her wedding Bible next to it. And there was their wedding book with the registry of gifts given and events. And most of all, there were friends. There were young and old friends. There were friends of forty plus years and there were friends of just a couple of years. But we were all there to do one thing. To remember. And in that remembrance, we rejoiced. We laughed, we hugged, and we expressed love.

It was not that we had forgotten the tragedy from ten years ago. No, I am sure that it, and how that day has changed so many things in our lives, was still ever present in our psyche. But it was not, will not, and cannot consume us to the point where we forget whose we are. Because we who are called to “rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep” know deep within us that there is something greater that is here. (Matthew 12:6; Matthew 12:41; Matthew 12:42)
And there we stand.

The Boys of Summer

My son knows his first complete word.  By that, I mean he know how to spell it, how to say it, how to recognize it, and how to sound the letters out to make the word.  He probably knows other words, but this was the whole package at one time.

The word is “ball”.  He spelled it out b-a-l-l, and I wrote it down as he said each letter.  And then he pronounced each sound; b (ba), a (aw) l (el) l (el).  Then he put them all together and said, “ball”.  A great moment in his young career.  Now I just need to teach him how to put the word “base” in front of it.

I like baseball. And fast pitch softball. Always have.  I’m a fan.  Not as diehard as I used to be.  I mean, I don’t keep up with rosters, individual stats, and even team standings, but I enjoy watching a game on TV.  I grew up on baseball.  We played it on teams.  We watched when a game was on the television.  We’d grab a bunch of friends and head off to a ball diamond or create a makeshift field with shirts, cardboard, or extra mitts for bases.  We would go see my dad play.  Sometimes we would have a great “whiffle” ball game going out past the left field fence as dad’s team was playing their game.  Rumor has it, that the day I was born, my dad was playing a game on a semi-pro team.  At least that is what I heard.

One of my earliest memories of a ball game is when I was about five years old.  I went with my dad to a game that he was playing in.  That particular night, they didn’t have enough players to field a team and they were going to have to forfeit until they asked me to play.  I remember being up to bat with my eyes glue to the pitcher as he began his wind up.  I saw the ball all the way, made my swing and “crack”, bat and ball connected.  The ground ball was bouncing toward the shortstop and I was heading down the first baseline running as fast as I could.  And what do you know; I beat the throw.  And I hear the word, “safe”.   That is all I remember about my first game.  But that memory is as clear today, as it was when it happened on that summer night so long ago.

Now, as I fill in the gaps and stay in the logical real world, I am sure it the story is a little different.  The truth is probably more like this.  The real game was probably over or it was just a practice game.  And the adults thought it would be fun for me to take a swing.  The pitcher was as close as he could be and tossed the ball so it would make contact with the bat.  The reason I made it safe to first was because of the intentional bobbling of the ball by the infielders until I touched the bag.  That is more likely how it happened.  But not in my head.

So, my wife and I got to go to a game the other day.  It was our local Single “A” short season farm team for the Giants.  My brother in law got the tickets and off we went.  This actually was the first game that my wife and I went to together.  I was excited to go and see a ball game, but I really don’t really show a lot of emotion when it comes to things like that.  The best I had was what my wife called a “suppressed giddiness” look on my face.  I am not a big “yeller” or “screamer” or “whoop de whooper”.  I just sit and watch the game.  I applaud a great hit or catch.  I analyze a bad play.  And I nod my head when a play is well executed.  My wife, on the other hand, is grinning because she knows I am passively having a great time.

We get to our seats about fifteen minutes before the game starts.  I am a little “bummed” because I like to watch the warm-ups and batting practice. But at we made it before the anthem and the first pitch. 

“What do we do now?” my wife asks. 

“We eat.” I reply.
T: “Now? Before the game starts?”
Me: “Yes, now.”  (For the following reasons.  1. I’m hungry.  2. Going early we won’t have to wait in line as long.  3. Don’t want to miss a pitch.)

So we get our $6.00 hot dog ($5.00 profit for them) and our $3 dollar pop ($2.00 profit for them) and sit down for the game.  Then we will eat other things as needed.  (Later T. got nachos.  Those hot dogs don’t go very far.  And I had some peanuts, a baseball staple). 

And I watched.  Every pitch.  Some people were leaving early, as the game didn’t end up that close.  I am sorry.  I find that wrong.  In my book, it is from first pitch to last pitch. Because, baseball is about the experience as a whole.  It is more than just the score.  It is the feel, the moment, and the ambiance. It’s the sun, the grass, the dirt, and the bleachers.  It’s the sounds of the game, the cheers of the crowd, the music, the “charge”, and the foot stomping.  It’s the lights, the catching of a foul ball, the mascot teasing the opponents, and the coach and umpire in a disagreement.  It’s the seventh inning stretch.  It’s the “That’s the ball game.  Thanks for coming and drive home safe”.

It is three or four hours of fun.  For the cost, yes, even with the inflated food prices, you get a good bang for your buck.  I know it is long.   A professional umpire once said that “baseball is the only game that you can watch on TV, go mow your lawn and never miss a single pitch”. I know for some it is boring.  My wife even brought a book.  A book!  I wouldn’t let her read it.  Some people just don’t like watching the game, but I love the strategy.  The decision of what pitch to throw, whether to swing or not, to steal the base or not, to pinch hit, to bring in the closer, and the clutch hit or catch that changes the outcome of the game.  I love it.  I love it all. Baseball.  America’s pastime. The boys of summer.  Or in this case the “boy of summer”.  Not sure who I am taking about.  But. . .

My son knows a complete word.  Can't wait until we add "base" in front.  Play ball!

The Adventure

I was part of a church that had for its motto, “Share His Adventure”.  It was a reminder that God was doing something and we could be involved in it.  It was God’s adventure and we were able, if we chose, to join the journey. His journey, His adventure. Now, this adventure journey that we can go on, can and will lead us to great experiences and encounters.  And sometimes, the journey that we are on will intersect with a journey that someone else is on.  This story is about such an intersection.

The last week of July found us in eastern Washington visiting T.’s parents for a few days.  They live on one side of the Snake River and Idaho is on the other.  One day, we all went to a park along the riverfront on the Idaho side. This would, hopefully, be a good spot for me to take photographs and a great place for our little one to run and play and swing. 

The riverbank was and easy little climb and at the top there was a paved walkway.  I took a few shots, but all in all, there wasn’t a whole lot to photograph.  I found a bench facing the river and sat down.  I guess I was hoping something might catch my eye.  And something did.

As I was sitting there, I noticed that there were three teenagers, two girls and a guy, angling their way up the riverbank heading toward me. As they were approaching they said hi to me. And then they asked me this question.

“Do you know where we could buy a Frisbee?”

I told them that I did not, because I was not from here, but there might be some shops down the road.

Them:  “Oh.  Well we’re not from here either.  We are on a mission trip.  Where are you from then?”

Me:  “Oregon.  From the Salem area.”
One of Them:  I have an aunt who I think is from there.  I visited there a long time ago and went to the ocean.”
Me:  “Where are you guys from?”
Them:  “Nebraska.”
Me:  “My dad was from Valentine, Nebraska.”
Them: “Cool.”
Me:   “So, you said you are on a mission trip?”
Them:  “Yeah, have you heard of YWAM?” 
Me:  “Yes, Youth With a Mission.  That’s neat.  So what church are you from?”
Them:  Trinity Lutheran Church.”
One of Them: “So, are you a Christian?” 
Me:  “Yes.  I go to Capital Baptist Church. And my wife and I work with youth and college age group”
Same One of Them:  “ So, you’re a strong Christian then?”
Me:  “As strong as I can be, being me.”
Still Me:  “How’s the mission trip going?  And what are you doing for it?”
Them:  We’ve been at an Indian reservation.  Talking and playing with the kids.  We leave tomorrow.  It has been a neat experience.  We’ve been gone two weeks.  The first part of the trip was a little spiritual retreat reading the Bible and strengthening our relationship with God.”
Me: “It is very exciting to see you guys serving the Lord like this.  Just understand that once the emotional feeling starts to dissipate and you are back home, don’t forget the work and encounters you have had.  Even though the excitement has gone, you did good stuff by  sharing your faith in Christ.”

We then exchanged names and talked for a while about different things.   I could tell that this mission trip had made an impact on A., M., and J.’s life and they were going back to their homes different. 

One of Them:  “I still can’t believe how beautiful it is here. With the mountains and trees.  It’s just gorgeous.”

At this point, I look at the surroundings as well.  All I see is brown dirty hills and scrawny little trees.  Coming from the Northwest, my standard of beauty is Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainer, the Cascade Range, the mighty Columbia River, evergreens side by side, packed together like sardines, and the great Pacific.  Eastern Washington, compare to that, is wanting.

But coming from Nebraska, as they were, and coming from flat, this is a welcome and noticeable change.  If they liked this, they would love Oregon.

One of Them:  “Can we pray with you?”

Me: “Yes, and I want to pray for you guys as well.”

And there we were, a high school sophomore, a junior, a senior, and an adult standing in a circle on the edge of a riverbank holding hands and bowing our heads. Three Lutherans and a Baptist joining together with one heart and mind praying for one another.  We were just four people from the Midwest and from the Northwest, together with our God. I would argue that this was no coincidence.  After we said goodbye, I couldn’t help but wonder if their initial question of wanting to buy a Frisbee was their way to open up a conversation about Jesus to a stranger.  

As they were on their journey sharing His adventure and I on mine, we were, for but a moment, put together.  And even though they came west for one purpose and I came east for another, we met.  And we rejoiced together.  And we encouraged each other.  And I believe we, in some way, recognized that even though our Christian journey takes us on different paths and experiences, that journey will always lead us to one place.  At His feet.

What a journey!  What an adventure!

 

"Stranger" Things

My son never met a stranger. It is very interesting to observe my three year old in action. Walking down the aisles of the grocery store and also at the checkout line, he is there with his ever so friendly, “Hi, how are you?” And I think he really means it.


We were at an antique mall at the coast a while back, and as we turned the corner a gentleman walks by and my guy says, “Look, my friend! Hi, how are you?” And the other day sitting in his shopping cart he sees some one walking his way and he got the biggest grin and said, “Hi, friend.” It was as if he had just seen a close friend and the joy was pouring out of him. The thing is, I’d never seen that guy before in my life, and unless my son is sneaking out of the house and cruising the town at night, he has never either. My boy is just friendly and outgoing.

Who knew two introverts could produce such a strong extrovert. Yes, my wife and I are introverts. Most people can easily tell with me. My shyness is often mistaken for being standoffish. My need for solitude can be misdiagnosed as self absorbed and uncaring. One person had noted that I “keep my cards so close to my chest, that I don’t even know what they are”. My wife is less introverted than me, but she is. She has learned how to be in a crowd and be friendly, but her nature is still that of introversion. And we have the personality tests to prove it. Yes, we are both INFJ’s. I’m not sure how my boy would test, but the first letter is sure to be a big old E.

There are, I believe, a few reasons for my “never met a stranger” son. One is, well, he’s three. And when one is little like that, there seems to be this innocent freedom and an unawareness of danger. I recognize the issue here as this world is a scary place and not all people are good and kind. More about this later. This brings me to another factor of his outgoing friendly attitude. He has a good environment in which to grow. I am especially speaking about the church we attend.

I have mentioned before that he really likes church. When we arrive, he will make a beeline to his favorite person, the Sunday school clerk, Miss F., and give her a great big hug. And now he seems to have added “Hi grandma,” to his vocabulary. He will proceed to call the other ladies there, who seem to fit that description, in his mind, “grandma” as well. There is, in no particular order, grandma F., grandma L, grandma N., grandma M., grandma R., etc. I am sure it is easy being so friendly and outgoing when you have so many great grandmas in your life.

I would be remiss if I did not mention that, even though my little I. has so many grandmas, he has only one, and only ever one “Nana”. She is my wife’s mom and my guy thinks the world of her. And his “Papa”. He enjoys talking on the phone with them. And when we visit, my guy is in play “heaven”. There is the “run down the hall and yell” game, the “go fish” game, and the “hide and jump out of a room to startle game”. I am not sure who loves these games the most.

So, with his personality, age, and environment all factors for his expressive extroversion, we try to encourage him to grow in his “no stranger” policy. It is a shame, however, that we will have to share and teach him that he also needs to be careful and discern good situations from bad situations. This is the nature of the world. But, I do not want to squelch that which clearly seems to be a quality or attribute given to him by God.

I want him to be friendly. I want him to be nice. I want him to think the best in people. I want him to be hospitable.

We live in a world where fear, uncertainty, hatred, and loneliness are the prevalent attitudes of the time. What better way to extinguish them, than with a hearty and well meaning, “Hi, how are you?” What better way to show and share the love of Jesus than being truly welcoming and bighearted? We must never “neglect to show hospitality to strangers”. Who knows whom we might have entertained?
My son never met a stranger.

"First Post of the Week"

Names are important. They not only are for identification, they are also for characterization. I will admit that, at least in the United States, we name our children names that we like and not so much as to build or develop their characters.


We like catchy, memorable names. And the more unique, the better. And the more famous and rich we are, the “uniquer” we get to be. Names like Apple, Moon, and Fantasia are good ones. We, who are the middle-class, are left with Celery, Asteroid, and Reality. Somehow, those are not as impressive. Or just add a “wa” or “na” at the end and presto, you have a new name. Sometimes, we name our children after relatives, but mostly we name because we like it.

But people used to name based upon the circumstance of the day or a character trait during the time of birth of the child. Just take a look at the Bible. Many people were named with a name of significance. Like Moses, meaning “drawn out” since Pharaoh’s daughter drew him out of the water. And Jesus, whose name means “savior”. Or they changed their name to bring emphasis to a change in their life. Saul changed his name to Paul, which means “small” or “insignificant” to highlight that he was not about who he was anymore, but he was all about who he now is with Christ in his life.

Businesses and organizations also need to think hard in choosing a name that best reflects who they are and what they want to be know for. Good choices are imperative for good business. Which brings me to my story.

We took a “short” four-day trip to eastern Washington to visit T.’s parents. As I have mentioned in an earlier blog, there is a section in their town that I have dubbed “church alley”. There is a four-square block section that is home to eight churches. Seriously, you drive past one on the corner and behold, you pass another church on the next corner separated by each other’s lawn. They all seem to be painted white as well. And also, there are other churches that have “sprung” outside of the “alley”. And not to mention the churches in the adjacent town on the other side of the river. Just cross the bridge and you are in a new town and in another state, but for all intents and purposes, it is still the same one big community.

I began to notice, as with any city, that many of the churches had the word “First” in their name. They were, in no particular order:
First Christian Church,
First Presbyterian Church,
The First Church of God,
First Assembly of God, and
First Baptist Church.

Adding the ones in the town across the river, we have:
First Assembly of God,
First Baptist Church,
First Church of Christian Science,
First Church of the Nazarene, and
First United Methodist Church.

Now that is a lot of firsts! I envision the early settlers coming to this spread of country and deciding a church of their denomination was needed, and so they built a building.
“ We need a name,” they surmised.
“ First one in the area, so let’s call it First Baptist.”
“Great idea.”

(Enter into the valley, Presbyterians who build a building.)
“We need a name,” they surmised.
“First one in the area, so let’s call it First Presbyterian.”
“Great idea.”

(And so on, and so on.)

Sometimes, in larger cities, you will see The Second Baptist Church.
“We didn’t quite make it, but we were close. We’ll call ourselves Second Baptist.”
“Great idea.”

I know that I am making light of this, but I mean no disrespect. Really. I just find it odd that we church goers seem to be the only ones who name ourselves in this fashion. I haven’t seen “The First Grocery Store”, or “First Chevron Gas”. It seems to been uniquely ours. I don’t believe the churches are named from a prideful or arrogant heart. I think it more of a significant historical time-line moment. I still think it strange.

But speaking of firsts in this “spiritual” conversation, there is one “first” that reigns.

“And He is the image of the invisible God, the first born of all creation, for by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on the earth, both visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities - all things have been created by Him and for Him.” Col. 1:15-16

“He is also the head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the first born from the dead; so that He Himself might come to have first place in everything.” Col. 1:18

The “firstness” of Jesus means that He alone is the heir of all things and is uniquely supreme. And His most desirous thing is to be “first” in your life.

Third Encounter

Traveling with our three year old is easier now than when our son was younger. But there are a few conditions and obstacles that have to be hurdled. It is easier because we are packing lighter these days. Gone are the infant carriers, the playpens, the bottles, the specialty foods, and the multitude of clothes and other accessories that go along with a baby or young toddler.


Now he can sleep in his cot or in the extra queen bed, depending upon the amenities of the motel. We still bring some toys, but we can pack them in a small bag. And his clothing also fits in a smaller section of the suitcase. There is, however a trade-off as we bring a little DVD player if it is a long trip. And we will make longer stops so he can burn off some energy. And I have learned that ground floor rooms are preferred. Then we don’t have to worry when he runs around in the room. Getting a corner room is also helpful, so we just have to be aware of one side for the noise level.

The third encounter of our vacation was in one way small, but it made my thought juices go deep. It happened while we were at the motel in Brookings. We were at the second to last room of the all ground floor motel. As we were settling in, our “neighbors” park their big white car. It is one of those cars driven by old people or a brother-in-law. And sure enough, out of the driver’s side came a gentleman in his eighties. The back seat of the car is well packed with hanging clothes and boxes.

The man first opened his motel room and proceeded to open the passenger door where his wife was sitting. It was quickly apparent that she was in need of a lot of assistance. He brought her walker around and slowly, because he is being ever so careful and because of his own age, helped her to stand, or stoop. They slowly make their way into the room, which took about seven minutes. Once seated, the husband begins the first of many trips out to the car to bring in the needed supplies for their stay.

Lately, I have been trying to be aware of opportunities to engage people that cross my path. I am extremely introverted and I am forcing myself to become intentional in these situations. I ask the man if he would like some help bring in the rest of his items. He politely declines my offer but he does stop for a second to take a break. I make my move to spur on conversation.

I told him where we were from and that we were here for a couple days to visit the Redwoods. He said that they were from Sacramento and dove up because they were gong to attend a memorial service in a couple of days. He told me that this wife hasn’t felt good for a few years and she doesn’t move too well. And he was taking care of her the best that he could. “It’s hard, sometimes, but what are you going to do?”, he said.

Later, in the early evening, I heard him trying to start his car and it just wouldn’t turn over. A relative of his came over and they decided to call a mechanic in the morning. I told them that if they needed some food, I would go get it for them. He said thanks but they would be fine.

The next day the couple went with their relatives and a cousin stayed to wait for the tow truck. Realizing that the man forgot to leave his credit card, I volunteered to wait with the car as he went and got the card. So the elderly cousin left the keys with me and just as the tow truck came both the cousin and the car owner showed up. And off we went to the Redwoods.

Here is what this encounter let me know. I appreciate love that is costly. Even though this may not be how that man envisioned his days, he is a testimony of what you do for the sake of love. You endure. You do what you need to do. And you don’t complain about it. You take care of those who are in need.

I also recognize that if I want to purposefully show and share God’s love, I will have to be the one to take the initiative. I will have to “un-introvert” myself to place myself into the journey of others. This is a world that, in some ways, has lost the human contact aspect. With self-checkout at grocery stores, ATM’s, and Redboxes, the interaction of human to human diminishes. And when the Internet is thrown in, with online shopping, online banking, and online movies, human contact can be eliminated all together. I can even get a college degree in my pajamas at my own home.

Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy all of those conveniences. Which means, I will have to work extra hard starting, developing, and keeping new encounters and relationships. There are some things can’t be done self-service or online. Like mercy, kindness, and encouragement. And since, children of God, those are supposed to be our specialties, let’s get out there and “encounter”.

For Everything There is a . . .

The second significant encounter of our vacation was one that I missed because I didn’t go far enough. My wife, fortunately, did not miss the encounter.

We were in Bandon down at Old Town going through the shops on July 7th.

My little one did pretty well, but it is getting more difficult to go into art galleries, as the setting is usually quieter than three-year-old lungs. So after some sight seeing and visits to the local retail establishments, we were ready to go. We got I. buckled into his car seat and then I noticed on the side of a building a little sign that said “Art Show”.  I told T. that I would just run in and see what was in there.

Walking through the door and into a large open area, I saw that the paintings and photography were lining the walls. It doesn’t take me too long in galleries to recognize what I am being drawn to and what does not capture my interest. And nothing in here has necessarily caught my attention. There was also no one else in the room with the exception of two people sitting behind a table on the opposite side of the place. And there was a big open space where there was no art at all. It was as if the artist had already taken down their display. Unimpressed, I only viewed one area and left.

I went to the car and told T. to go look if she wanted to, but there wasn’t much there. She decided to go in and I stayed in the car with the boy. I am not sure how long she was in the building, but it was longer than I had expected. As I glanced in the side mirror, I saw T. coming toward the car with a small paper bag in her hand. I thought that she must have found something to buy.

So here is what we know:
The empty spot on the wall was for a local artist to display his work, but he couldn’t make the show. On June 14, his baby girl was born. They named her Sequoia Iris Reed Rodrigues. Three days later, little Sequoia fell sick. After taking her to the hospital, that little girl was diagnosed with ‘septicemia, an infection in the blood that the doctor said randomly occurs in one in a thousand babies for no known reason.’ And the next day on June 18, four-day-old Sequoia passed away in her mother’s arms.

The people sitting behind the table at the art show were friends of the parents and had held a memorial there for Sequoia the night before. The bag that T. had in her hand was leftover from the service. It contained seeds from a sequoia tree and an iris bulb to be planted in her memory. The man at the table told T. that he felt like he ‘had to do something’. T. could tell that the events had left an emotionally moving impact upon the man. T. wrote a little note of sorrow and encouragement in the journal for the family and then left to go to the car.

This is what I missed because I didn’t go far enough. The story, however, has not left my mind and heart since hearing it. It is tragic enough to lose a loved one, but for that family to go from sheer joy at the birth of their first born to horrific sorrow at her death in four short days, that is, for me, inconceivable. And yet, stuff happens. Bad stuff. And somehow, we are to move on and continue our life journey, wounded and limping with but a short memory of happiness and a longer one of sadness, and all the while knowing that God is there and He cares. And somehow, somewhere, and at sometime, He will bring about good in all of this.

Perhaps little Sequoia’s family have already recognized this based upon these two quotes from her memorial.

“Sometimes love is for a moment …

Sometimes love is for a lifetime …

Sometimes a moment is a lifetime.”

In spite of the pain:

“We would rather have one breath of her hair,

One kiss of her mouth, one touch of her hand,

Than an eternity without it.”

I hope than you will learn two things from this encounter I have shared with you. The first is that life here on this earth is ever so fragile and it may end suddenly, so it should be lived doing that which is right and good. And the second is that the only place where you will find lasting peace from your restlessness, complete forgiveness from the things you’ve done wrong, and ultimate comfort for your sorrows, is in, and only in, a relationship with God through trust and acceptance of Jesus as your Savior. Trust that He paid your debt by dying on the cross and through believing in Him you can live the life God has desired for you to live. Even if it is only four days.

We have the bag with the sequoia seeds and the iris bulb. Time to plant a memory. It is the season.  Turn, turn, turn.

P.S. “here is the memorial website”:
http://sequoia.iris.muchloved.com/

Side Roads and Turn Arounds

This first encounter on our vacation was almost missed. Twice. We had already driven through the first park on our list to see the redwood trees.

As we were heading south, we needed to take a break so, in Crescent City, Ca., we stop at the visitor center. They have restrooms there and they have a volunteer at the center to answer any questions. So, I ask him a question. “What is the best route to get to the Redwoods? We want to see Prairie Creek and Del Norte Park.” I pronounced “Norte” nor-tay, as I assumed that would be correct.


The volunteer guy says, “I have to correct you on one thing. I don’t want somebody else to get offended or upset. The correct pronunciation is “Norte” nort. There is no “tay” at the end.” So, I guess, the only person I offended, was him. “ I was just going to head straight down Highway 101.” He told me that if I wanted to take a more scenic route, I should take the loop just past the river. It is very windy and it is a decent climb, but the view and the sights are neat. Even though it takes longer, it might be worth driving.

T. and I decided that we should take it and have lunch up at the overlook. As we are driving on the “long and windy road” (Okay, not that long, but windy. I just wanted to quote the song), we are following the river as it heads to the ocean. And it was about three miles from the mouth of the river, we made a small turn and there was a spot where cars were lined up by a little bridge. The little bridge was like one going over a creek and just had the safety rails. People were standing there looking toward the river. It had the appearance of a spot where fishermen would go. As we passed by, a boy, who was about ten, shouted to us, “It’s a whale!”

I didn’t quite hear him so I ask T. what he said as I drive past on route to the overlook and eventually the Redwoods. She told me that he said there was a whale. T. thought we should turn around and take a look.

Here are the two things that went through my mind. First, if indeed there is a whale, it can’t be very big. We are upstream quite a ways on the river. And second, I have already passed that spot, and there is “no-turn around and see what I have missed” policy. I recognize that this is a sad way to live. But, in my defense, it keeps me moving forward.

But, with T.’s encouragement, I turn around on the little two-lane road using the classic “three-point-turn”, and head back past the little bridge with people. I then have to execute another “three-point-turn”, (I’m getting exhausted here) and park behind the other cars. I get out with my camera and go to see this whale. T. had to stay in the car since our three-year old was napping. I get to the little bridge spot. And there it is. A whale and its calf.

It was right at the edge of the river. It was about a twenty feet drop from the bridge and the whale was about ten feet from the river shore. It kept rising and submerging the fifteen minutes I was there. Its nose was facing upstream and would drift down and then back up. It got to a point where I thought it was going to be gone, so I went back to the car so T. could come and take a look. Fortunately, it was still there, and T. got the “money shot”, as it expelled water through its blowhole.

I have only seen whales at a distance in the ocean. This time I was only about thirty feet away from this big old mammal. Who knew that in order to see a whale up close, one only has to go see giant trees in a forest? And this encounter would have been certainly missed if we hadn’t chosen to take a side road and make a turn around.


As we journey in life, and as we follow the route that we have chosen, sometimes the more direct path is the unexpected side road. And it is there, on the side road, you may be given a glimpse of something wonderful. Sometimes, a forty-five foot grey whale is just around the corner.

Preparing for the Unexpected

We decided to take a trip on the first week part of July. Now our trip process, or my process at least, will go something like this.


First, I will determine that this trip will be the greatest trip ever. It will be filled with staying in great hotels, eating in the best-recommended restaurants, and seeing the wonderful and breathtaking sites of the area.

Then we will have the “figure out where we are going to vacation” phase. There is a lot of pressure at this stage. If it is going to meet the above requirement of the “greatest trip ever”, the “where” part is critical. This is a very simple yet complicated undertaking. Complicated in the sense of listing all of the possibilities. Simple in the sense of the eventual obvious result. I must confess that this stage begins two to three months before the actual trip date. This time, like always, it seems the possibilities are endless.

We will throw around, in the beginning, the grand trips. Colorado? Alaska? The Mid-West to see family? Or, what about the East coast? And then the elimination and options that will be most practical and cost efficient enough to fit into our budget, but still have a great time.

So the choices now become directional. Do we go north or south or east or west? And it can’t be too far of a travel time. That will give us more time to enjoy “the greatest trip ever”. Is it going to be north to Seattle or the San Juans? Enjoyable? Yes. Have friends there? Yes. Expensive? Yeah, a bit. East to the mountains or Bend? Now that would be fun. Haven’t been there too much. Great restaurants. Good views. But T. was just in that area for a work retreat, so we will try somewhere else. How about south? The Roseburg area? The last time we were there this town fascinated me. It seems to be a fusion of blue-collar working atmosphere and fashionable urban trendsetters. Again, it wasn’t too long since we wee last there. So, no.

There is always the old standby, west. Lincoln City or Newport? I will never tire of going there. But we can always go there for a weekend, so at this time we will pass. But it is the coast, and if given a choice, I love the coast and like to go to the coast. I would, in a heartbeat, live there. And we have our favorite places to stay, eat, and go after many trips there.

Then T. suggested the Southern Oregon Coast with a tour of the Redwoods. That’s it! I think that I have only been there once in my life, so in early May our trip destination for the first week of July was now settled. This could have been an easier selection process, since I generally gravitate to a 200- 250-mile maximum travel trip. And usually the coast is involved. Now all that is left are the details. This includes the reserving of the hotels, the review checking of restaurant choices, and the itinerary of site seeing and photo op extravaganza. This will involve “Tripadvisor” and similar sites to research best options for us and what has been approved by many a traveling commentator. I live for planned spontaneity.

And everything went as planned. It was a great trip, but not the “greatest trip ever”. That is an unattainable medal. We never do as much as we think we are going to. There was nothing bad about this trip but trips can never live up to the hype of one’s own fantasy and imagination. But along the way of our well thought out vacation there were three unexpected but life impacting encounters that weren’t planned. At least by us. But it was good and meaningful that we got to be a part of those encounters.

Sometimes, as we move along on our journey, something happens. Life. Life happens. And out of that life happening, we got tastes of the unexpected. And sometimes, the great moments and great lessons that come our way, happen while we are planning our life, and these my friends, must not be missed. Three encounters. One was by a river. One was in an art gallery. And one was at our motel. Curious?

One Year in the Books

One year ago today, I quit my job. It has went by fast in some respects, and dragged on in others. I had very specific reasons and goals as I left the corporate middle management ranks and entered into the self exiled island of unemployment. I am certainly not retired, as I have none (retirement money that is). For the past year, we have been living off of our savings and the part time income that T. is getting from her job.


There were four reasons/goals that caused me to quit and I will give an update on them at this time. I quote from my initial significant blog post in italics .

(Reason One: I needed a break from off-price retail. I’ve done it for many years and just need to get away from being middle management for a while.)

I have certainly accomplished this one. I, at this point, do not miss working in off-price retail. It felt like, being management, that you are caught between the corporation and your employees. There was generally never a win-win scenario. And that can wear you down a bit. Also, you always felt like you were one bad day away from being terminated. I like retail, so maybe when I get a job, it will be in a smaller setting. Oh, and I haven’t missed the holiday season.

(Reason Two: I really want to spend as much time as I can with my wife and son. Being older than her, I want to cherish each moment I can before it is gone. Never know when it ends.)

And that I have done as well. T.’s job is Monday through Thursday from 8:30am-2:00pm. So we get the three-day weekend together, along with evenings. This has been really nice. And every day I am spending it with my boy, who is now three. It has been great watching him grow. Not going to lie, sometimes he grew on me, both ways. I also would like to, at this time, applaud all you stay at home moms.

(Reason Three: I really want to work for myself. Start a business. For now I will be focusing upon my photography. Attempting to sell my photographs and taking portraits. I am not a great photographer, but I’m good at it and I like doing it. Focusing on it will give me experience. I’ve always wanted to try my own work but have been too afraid. I determined I would rather fail trying than always wonder what I could have been.)

I have at this point am not working for myself or have started a business. Periodically I have been taking photographs and have done some projects for friends, but that is about it. The fear of failure is a bigger hurdle than I thought. I am now, once again, in position to attempt to pursue something in this venue. August will be my month of active engagement into the business world. I hope.

( And Reason Four,: I have been quite convicted about trusting God enough to allow Him to provide. We are to seek his kingdom and righteousness and He says He will provide. George Mueller didn’t ask anyone for anything, but rather prayed and trusted.)

This, quite frankly, has been amazing to witness. That is probably due to the fact that it has been God doing great work with this goal. I just have to trust. Which isn’t always easy and there are moments of anxiety, but He has certainly been true to His word. We have not gone without during this past year. Sure we have cut back on some things, but all in all, our lifestyle didn’t change a whole lot. In this upcoming year, we may have to make some significant adjustments to our way of life and our way of thinking, but so far, we have been taken care of.

I originally had calculated that we were on track to be fine until July of this year and then we wouldn’t be able to pay our bills. Now, at least in budget terms, not foreseeing any major crisis or catastrophe, we are on track to go one more year from today.

To be honest, I am not sure how it exactly happened, but things just seemed to work out that way. I am not complaining, I am very grateful. This will be a year of trusting in Him more as we see our bank account get smaller and smaller. Thanks God.

I had hoped that I would have been more pro-active when it came to ministering to other people. Or at least, recognize the opportunities that were presented to me. But I did get to be involved with some church ministries that I would not have been able to accomplish in my “other life”.

So year one is over and I am heading into year two. Stay tuned. Off I go.

Be Free

Two ways of freedom.
1)

Two ways of freedom.
2)

 There is only one that lasts.

Wanted

“I guess I’ll take T.” Those are words that you never want to hear. Especially if you are the last one picked when choosing teams. I understand that somebody has to be chosen first, and some have to be in the middle, and of course, some have to be last. But it is more than just a numbers game. It is a determination of what others think about your worth.


Now, if you are one of the lucky ones and got picked first all the time, then this does not apply to you. But, if you are like those who get picked last, who aren’t invited to the “cool” party, or who aren’t asked out or when doing the asking are rejected, this is for you.

We all want to be wanted. And when we are rejected, not chosen (or chosen by default), ignored, or, which by the way may be the worst, not noticed, it hurts and the wound from that hurt undoubtedly leaves a scar. We all want to be wanted. Because being wanted equals being loved. If somebody wants us, then they are affirming that we are loved. And being loved affirms that we are lovely.

On the other hand, feeling unwanted equals being unloved. And being unloved affirms in our minds and hearts that we are not lovely. In fact, we are ugly, not important, and of no value. You then begin to feel that you are not good enough, that there must be something wrong with you, and soon you have traversed the slippery slope and end up at the bottom of the hill with only this to show for it. You are alone. I recognize that that may not always be the case, but it is how one feels that seem to overwhelm the reality. And what a life that is.

This past weekend, our church had an event. It was the kick off to our Vacation Bible School. The community was invited to have free hot dogs, cake, and juice. They also had a Pinewood Derby race and were pre-registering for VBS. It was a nice day and all the kids were running around and having a rousing game of “Ring around the Rosie”.

All except for one.

I am guessing that he was maybe four. A friend who was invited to the event invited his mother, so he came along. As the moms were talking, this little guy, who obviously didn’t know anyone, found a spot beside the building where he could sit. Out of the way and nearly unnoticed, he watched others. But before I finish, I must take you to another time.

(Years ago, I got a call from my mom, who told me that my dad, according to the doctor, only had about two weeks to live. The cancer had progressed at a fast pace and it wasn’t going to be much longer. I was living eight hundred miles away and it was winter. Making the drive through the snow and the icy roads was difficult especially through the pass. But I was just thinking. And praying. Not about the weather or for a safe drive. I was thinking about my dad.

My dad was a strong self-reliant man. He was well liked and was good at whatever he did. A great ball player, a great bowler, and a great mechanic. Once in the winter, in our little garage, he cut a van and mounted a pickup camper, welded it up, put sides on it, and after two months, out came an RV. But for all of the things that he was, there was one thing that he wasn’t. He wasn’t a believer. He hadn’t asked Jesus to be his Savior.

For some people, that wouldn’t be that big of a deal. And some just want to make the dying person as comfortable as possible. But when Jesus is your Lord, and you believe in a heaven and a hell, there is a far greater thing at stake. And my purpose for visiting my dad was one-fold. I was for the last time, going to tell him about the wonderful saving grace of God.

When I arrived at my parent’s house, I hugged my mom, greeted my aunts, and with heart pounding, I went into the bedroom to see my dad. I told him about God, I told him about heaven, I told him about hell, I told him about sin, I told him about forgiveness, I told him about the cross, and I told him about Jesus.

My dad, in that bed, looking nothing like he used to, with a tear in his eye, said to me, “Do you think that Jesus really wants me?” “More than anything”, I said. “He died for you. That’s how much He wants you.” “Well then, I want him too.” And with that, my dad’s destiny was forever changed. And two weeks later, when my dad passed from this life to the next, I didn’t shed a tear. I just nodded. We all want to be wanted. )

And now, back to the weekend. As I looked at that little, hair tossed boy, sitting by the building, I thought, he just wants to be wanted. As I continued looking, I begin to take pictures. Because I realized that God did not only want this little boy, the little boy was sitting at the only place that matters. At the foot. And you will always be wanted at the foot.

A View from the Solstice

As today marks the first day of summer for this year, I thought it best to share “summery” stuff. The weather here has finally cooperated and is sunny and it is quite possible the temperature will hit the low 80’s. And a gentle breeze is blowing. I know that doesn’t sound like much for some of you, but it suits me just fine. Any hotter and I will be complaining.


So here I am, sitting outside. I am writing and my three year old is off on a discovery. Between picking “flowers” (one person’s weeds is another’s bouquet), throwing rocks at the rhododendrons, (who by all accounts, started it first), and making archeological digs in the dirt, I would say that it is a pretty good day.

It is probably not unlike my childhood summer days. With some exceptions, I suppose. I was the youngest of three children. Yep, I’m the baby of the family. Now I know you are thinking, “Well that explains a lot”, and I am sure that it does. Being the youngest meant that I was either the “tag along” or I found myself playing alone. As the “tag along”, your input or suggestion upon what to play, where to go, and what to do are of no consideration to the older siblings. After all, they probably didn’t want you there anyway.

When you are playing alone, you are limited to the types of games that you can participate in. Red Rover and Freeze Tag are not very satisfying when you are flying solo. But being alone a lot does give ample opportunity to pretend, imagine, wonder, and most of all dream. And that I still do, to this very day.

It seemed like that there was always a family that my parent’s were friends with who had kids about the same age as our little sibling tribe. That works out well as you always have someone to “hang” with. But even then, the oldest ones were the bosses, the middle ones were the aggrieved, and us “babies” were the spoiled “tag alongs”.

One particular friends of the family lived next door right next door. Their kids were the same ages as us, but they were all girls. This was during the days when girls were “icky”. Not to play with, that was fine, but there was no “magic” back then. We lived in a small house on the corner. Across the street in one direction was the friend’s house. They had in their possession, well yard that is, a big rusted out ship. It was our play area.

There is, my friend, nothing better than a ship with all of its compartments where spiders and bugs and slugs and a snake or two reside. Not to mention rusted out metal with sharp jagged edges coated with tetanus. We just didn’t concern ourselves with the possibility of getting bit, scratched or infections as we played. After all, the sea is a dangerous lady.  And we had worlds to explore.

Across the street in the other direction was the Skagit River. I would just walk across the small two-lane road and up a little embankment and there I was, after the 100-foot stroll, face to face with the great river. Keep in mind that my family moved from there the year when I was in the second grade. I am not sure how long I would spend just gazing at the water’s movement. From a five year olds perspective,  it was probably hours. But nevertheless, I dreamed.

I am not much of a swimmer and I am not much of a sailor, but I love to look out upon the water, be it a river or an ocean. It is there that I am everything that I think I am. It is there that I dream. It is there that I “be”.

Yeah, I am sitting outside on this first day of summer writing and remembering. And my boy is with me. Right now, he is trying to eat a flower. I am with my boy who, like me, dreams. And who, like me, can just “be”.