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!