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Tuesday, May 9, 2006

They just don't make garbage like they used to. Do you remember the good old days when you could throw away everything when you were done with it? Actually, those were not the good old days, because we were also trashing our environment. I don't know how it is in your neighborhood, but we lived in a neighborhood where we had the privilege of sorting and putting out what used to be just garbage: bottles, newspapers, cans and glass. They're now called recyclables. It's amazing how they can take that garbage, and then recycle it into something useful again.

Friday, May 5, 2006

Over the years I've noticed a fairly predictable formula for some of those TV adventure series: there's a victim you like, a villain you don't like, a hero you really like, and a major predicament near the end usually resolved in the last five minutes. But occasionally the predicament isn't resolved by the end of the show. As the minutes run out of the hour, the villain you don't like is winning, the victim and hero you do like are in grave danger, and it ends right there - causing a serious Maalox Moment. You're protesting, "It can't end here!" And then one hope-giving word suddenly appears on the screen - continued.

Friday, April 21, 2006

Over the years, our family has had some great times at the New Jersey shore. And I love to see the Atlantic Ocean with all of its many moods. Relatively calm. Tide out. Tide in. Building surf. Towering breakers. Angry in a storm. When the waves really start getting high, most swimmers make a wise choice. They get out of the water and they call it a day. Some of those massive waves could totally swamp you and then probably carry you all the way to England. But there's another breed out there. They're called surfers; some on surfboards, some body-surfing, and they don't run out when the monster waves start coming - they run in! And they ride those monsters!

Wednesday, March 8, 2006

Goodbye, Chicago! Hello, New Jersey! It was time for our first major move as a young family. Our ministry was pretty consuming, even back then, so we looked for the most inexpensive moving help that we could find. We found a private moving company owned by a friend. Tom showed up with one other guy and they did a great job navigating our earthly possessions down this narrow apartment staircase. Some days later, we met them on the other end. The problem was that we were facing an even more challenging staircase to get to our new second-floor apartment. Probably the greatest challenge of all was our refrigerator. It was a heavy old bear - I mean, even to try to move it across the floor. But Tom said, "I'll take care of it." He proceeded to strap that refrigerator on his muscular back and carry it up that narrow staircase all by himself. All I could do was lamely yell, "Go, Tom, go!"

Friday, February 10, 2006

When you're a five-year-old girl, going dark places alone can be pretty scary. When my wife was that age, she lived in the country and she had this long, often dark, road that she walked to get to the school bus. Part of the way, there was a grandma, and then a neighbor who watched and waved at her as long as she was in sight. See, it was that last stretch that was the problem. Trees covering that road, making it dark on the sunniest day, and the sounds in the woods that reminded her of the wild critters that lived in their area. She told me how, "There was one thing that got me through that stretch every day. I sang this little song, 'Jesus loves me, this I know.'"

Friday, December 30, 2005

"I don't wanna go." When our boys were little, that was sometimes what they would tell me when we were out in the woods where it was totally dark - and a little scary - for them, of course, not me. But I would reach for their hand and their little hand would instinctively reach up my way when we hit a dark stretch, and they'd grab on tight. Now the strangest thing happened. Once they had their father's hand, their feet started moving again. They could go where they otherwise would never think about going.

Thursday, December 29, 2005

Remember that old country song, "country road take me home." I think that's my wife's national anthem. We vacationed recently in the Ozark Mountains where she grew up and man does she have memories. Most of them are down some country road, unpaved, rutted, rocky, dusty, with a standard rear wheel drive vehicle. We sometimes end up in some situations that I'm not sure we'll ever come back from. I've noticed something on those roads. Everyone else we meet is driving a pickup truck with four wheel drive. I feel a little out of place, but anybody who lives where there are steep roads, rocky roads, muddy roads, snowy roads, should have a four wheel drive vehicle because all four wheels are working on getting you over something or out of something so you can go where others can't. You can go virtually on all kinds of terrain in all kinds of weather. And that feels good!

Monday, December 12, 2005

It was two weeks before Christmas. Our whole family was returning home from a Christmas party when a drunk driver decided that he liked our side of the road better than his side. In a split second, he swerved right in front of us. The next second, I was looking at a hood that was folded up almost to the windshield. A few hours in the emergency room showed that - miraculously - none of us had been seriously injured. Our car didn't do as well. It was totaled.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

We lived in the same town for over 25 years, so I could almost drive our town blindfolded. And sometimes I acted like it. Then one day, I suddenly realized how casual I was cruising the streets close to home - too casual, really. When I'm in an unfamiliar situation; both hands on the wheel, all eyes and ears. I'm intent. I'm focused. But, hey, these streets? I've driven these a thousand times, so I just sort of would go on automatic pilot, and frankly sometimes I didn't pay much attention. For some reason, one of those National Safety Council factoids popped on the screen in my brain: the vast majority of accidents take place within a few miles of home. Interesting - it's when you feel the safest that you're really in the greatest danger of all.

Tuesday, September 6, 2005

My cell phone died. I wish I didn't need one, but I'm traveling so much and there's so much going on in our ministry, I just have to be able to stay in touch while I'm traveling. So we had to get a new cell phone. The old phone served us well for a long time, but now the buttons just refuse to work anymore. Like the button that says "power." Oh, you can press it many times, you can hold it down for a while, and probably not have it come on. And if it does and you enter a phone number you want to call, you will not enjoy what happens when you push the button that says "send." Actually, nothing happens usually. It is very hard to place that call. And if the "send" button finally works, then you'll have a lot of fun when your call is done and you push the "end" button. No response - and a very big bill. It's really frustrating when you push the buttons you've always pushed and you don't get the response you've always gotten.

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