dear diary

My thoughts are provoked from some of the strangest places... most recently from an hilarious old move I just saw, The More the Merrier (1943) starring Jean Arthur and Charles Colbrun. Here's the scene that really got me thinking:



Mr. Dingle: Do you keep a diary, Miss Milligan?


Miss Milligan: (As she's writing her latest entry) No, of course I don't! (Pause.) Out of curiosity, why do you ask?


Mr. Dingle: There are two kinds of people -- those who don't do what they want to do, so they write down in a diary about what they haven't done; and those who are too busy to write about it because they're out doing it.



I found myself staring at my own diary on the nightstand that night, wondering which person I was... and which I wanted to be...

jimmy

I've always wanted a garden. I remember my great-grandmother grew all kinds of things in the back yard of her little northern California home, and how much fun it was to explore the plowed vegetable rows and help prune the rosebushes. Being the old-fashioned, sentimental, nostalgic person that I am, building and working a garden full of vegetables and herbs and flowers has been a life-long dream.

Problem is, I don't have a green thumb. My thumb has always been the farthest away from green one can possibly get. In fact, I can kill artificial plants. Seriously.

So imagine my excitement -- and panic -- when my handbell choir kids gave me this geranium...

Was this my chance? Could I affirm those kids' beautiful, beaming smiles by keeping their precious little gift alive? Or would they realize that they'd just sentenced this little plant to a long, slow and very painful death from neglect and starvation in the home of the world's worst gardener? I vowed to do everything possible to cut off my black thumbs and keep this little guy alive.

First, it acquired a name -- Jimmy. Not because it bears any resemblance to one of my most beloved piping instructors, mind you... but rather, because I couldn't remember what species it was when asked one day. "It's a jimmy, germy, something-or-other," I explained to the friend doing the asking. And hence, the name Jimmy stuck.

Second, it came with a small tag that said "medium sun and water." Learning exactly what constitutes "medium sun and water" in a high, sunny altitude like Colorado Springs proved quite a challenge for this desert-bred gardening hopeful. (In southern Arizona, after all, gardening constitutes merely raking colored rocks and carefully removing wind-blown trash from cactus spines.)

Well, I am here to announce to the world today that Jimmy not only still lives... but he has survived living with me for ONE YEAR! That's right -- the handbell choir gave me this geranium last May, at a concert to mark the end of our ringing season. He survived a move, a freezing winter, weeks without water while I was on vacation, and many other hardships, yet he's still going strong, and even began to bloom again last weekend. To mark his first birthday last week, I bought Jimmy this adorable new teacup-shaped planter. Someday soon I'll even attempt to re-pot him so he can grow even more.

Now we're planning another end-of-the-season concert, and I think Jimmy just may have to come as the guest of honor. After all, I think a front-row seat is the least I can do for the little plant that has restored my gardening hopes and dreams! :-)

opening day

I wish I were in Phoenix today...

For the past three years, I have not been at work today. I've been in Denver, celebrating the beginning of another baseball season by watching my Arizona Diamondbacks take on the Colorado Rockies. The D'Backs have started the year on the road for the past three years, and I've been there every time.

But today, they get to start the season at home. In Phoenix. Far away Phoenix.

I'm bummed.

But I'm excited, too, as I watch the minutes tick past on the clock, every moment bringing me closer to the excitement... the military band parade around the warning track... the giant American flag unfurled across the entire outfield of the diamond... the tens of thousands of patriots and fans on their feet with hands over hearts... the glaring red rockets and fireworks bringing the national anthem to life... the Air Force jets buzzing the stadium as the multitude roars... the team in white exploding onto the field from the third-base dugout... the pitcher slowly striding to the center-stage mound, slowly wrapping his fingers around the bright red stitching on the brand-new ball... and then, at long last, two of the most magic words you could ever hear ring out over the loudspeaker...

"PLAY BALL!!!"

I'm stoked that Opening Day is here at last! I just wish I could be there to see it in person...

in with the old

It may not looking like I'm posting much here, but that's only because I'm still working on transcribing all of my old blog posts from MySpace into this new blog. Be sure to check the "archives" list on the side over there to see these "oldies but goodies" as I get them posted!

The old is still coming in... but there will be some new posts, too! So stay tuned!

wearin' o' the orange

As many friends and coworkers have chased me around the office this morning, trying to pinch me because I'm not wearing green, I offer this little history lesson:

Catholics wear green. Protestants wear orange.

In America, St. Patrick's Day is little more than an over-comercialized social event encouraged by alcohol manufacturers for the sole purpose of increasing consumption of their products and, thereby, increasing their profits. I've born witness to this phenomenon first-hand, as for most of the past 15 years I've spent every March 17th evening piping-for-hire in bars and taverns, where with every passing tune the drunks get drunker and the lewd get, well, "lewd-er." Everyone wears a "Kiss Me, I'm Irish for a Day" button, a plastic green derby, and consumes little gold-coin-wrapped chocolates from miniature pots of gold.

But in the lands of my ancestors -- Scotland, England, and Northern Ireland -- there is a much deeper significance to St. Patrick's Day. For centuries, there has been great social, political and religious strife in Ireland and Northern Ireland between the Roman Catholic majority and the Protestant minority. Ever since William III of England, Scotland and Ireland, a Protestant -- and better known to history as William of Orange -- defeated the Catholic King James II in the Battle of the Boyne (near Dublin) in 1690, the tension between Protestants and Catholics on the tiny island of Ireland has been fierce. Majority Catholics have fought in the highest halls of government to suppress the Protestant minority, and at times that Protestant minority has gained the upperhand and sought revenge. It is because of William of Orange (which actually refers to his home region in France) that the color orange came to represent the Protestants, and it continues to do so to this very day, right on the Irish flag.

I could write a lot more about the strife and tension between the Catholic and Protestant factions, but I really don't want to turn this blog into a history lecture. I would encourage those of you who want to know to search "St. Patrick's Day" through something like Wikipedia to read more about the history of the day, of the man himself, and of the centuries of conflict that have defined the tiny island nation of Ireland. You'll read about the green shamrock as a symbol of Catholic loyalty, and about the sectarianism of the "Orangemen." You'll see how both sides have their good points, their just causes, and their bad reputations. You'll understand that the times we live in may be less violent, but the tension is still real.

For my part, I'm not out to provoke anyone on either side of the issue -- on the contrary, I like to think that the white in the Irish flag symbolizes peace between the two factions. Rather, it is out of deference to my Protestant heritage and my Scottish ancestors who settled for a time in Northern Ireland that, on every March 17th, I wear orange.

the difference

The difference between trusting that there is an ultimate happy ending and making an idol of that ending lies in our willingness to let it be a mystery of God's timing and not of our choosing. We have to stand in the complexity of all that God is working on, not just in the simple part we can see for ourselves. We must relinquish our arrogance and presumption that we have figured out God's plan.
~ Nicole Johnson

I'm learning to simply stand in the complexities of life and faith. I'm learning to relinquish all my presumptive thoughts and ideas. I'm learning to trust, not idolize.

I'm learning the difference...

before the throne

Sometimes it's a Scripture verse. Sometimes it's a sermon. Sometimes it's a devotional reading. Sometimes it's a random comment from a fellow believer. You just never know when the Lord is going to hit you between the eyes and speak directly to you and whatever situation you're in the middle of at that very moment.

For me today, it's the words to one of my all-time favorite hymns:

Before the throne of God above,
I have a strong and perfect plea,
A great High Priest whose name is Love,
Who ever lives and pleads for me.
My name is graven on His hands,
My name is written on His heart;
I know what while in heaven He stands,
No tongue can bid me thence depart.

When Satan tempts me to despair,
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look and see Him there,
Who made an end of all my sin.
Because the sinless Savior died,
My sinful soul is counted free;
For God the just is satisfied,
To look on Him and pardon me.

Behold Him there, the Risen Lamb,
My perfect spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I Am,
The King of glory and of grace!
One with Himself I cannot die,
My soul is purchased by His blood;
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ my Savior and my God!

spring is here!

I'm sitting in a typical grey office cubicle in Colorado, eating a sandwich at my desk with nothing but the buzz of fluorescent lights, the clicking of fingertips on computer keyboards, and the occasional "blrp!" of the telephone to interrupt the otherwise typical monotony of my work day. It's atypically warm outside, but the mountains are still covered in snow and the north winds are still blowing cold. More snow and blizzards are definitely on the way.

But then I put on my headphones, log in... and suddenly springtime is here! Fluorescent lighting becomes hot sunshine, I've traded my desk for a grandstand seat, keyboard clicking turns to clapping and cheering, and my cheap sandwich is now a wonderfully tasteless, over-priced hot dog.

February may not be over yet, but spring is already here -- spring training, that is!

My winter always ends with the first warm-up toss from the major league mound, the first loud "thwup!" of a baseball in the catcher's massive mitt, the first "Play ball!" enthusiastically hollered from behind home plate. They may only be spring training games right now, but the excitement of watching that first batter digging into the box makes me just as giddy as it will in 38 days when the real Opening Day arrives.

This is the only thing I miss about living in Arizona -- I miss soaking up the warm sunshine from a sticky plastic seat while munching on stale nachos, sipping a warm soda, and taking in all the sights and sounds of a Diamondbacks spring training game.

Thank goodness for MLB.TV!

valentine schmalentine

My annual rant still rings true today...

I hate Valentine's Day. I hate the aisles and aisles of pink and red fluff in every store I enter. I hate the excessive commercials full of happy, kissy-faced couples all enraptured with each other over stupid things like new cars or chewing gum or Caribbean cruises. I hate all the ads for diamonds and tacky heart-shaped jewelry. I hate the love song infestation on all the airwaves and in all the stores and restaurants. I hate how the price of roses is jacked up when the same dozen costs a third as much on any other day of the year. I hate the aisles and aisles of cards crooning about how wonderful the love of my life is. I hate that I don't have a love of my life. I hate that I have no one to buy such a card for. I hate that no one I like has ever given me such a card. I hate that the only Valentine cards I've ever received came from my reluctant elementary school classmates and were covered with happy buddy-buddy images of Garfield and Odie or Snoopy and Woodstock. I hate that I don't have a time turner like Hermione in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban so I can fast forward to February 15th. I hate those heart-shaped sweetie candy things. "Be mine." "You're cute." "Kiss me." Bah-humbug!!! I want to cram a whole bag full of those candies down some little cupid's throat until he chokes and turns blue and then I can steal his bow and arrows and break them and toss the splinters into a fireplace somewhere along with all those stupid school-kid Valentines and then dance a little jig while they burn to ashes.

Most of all, I hate that I don't have any reason not to hate Valentine's Day....

back to tennessee

For the first time since my family moved from there to Arizona in 1987, I'm returning to Tennessee this weekend! My first business trip ever is taking me to Nashville this weekend, where I'll be attending the National Religious Broadcasters Convention at the Opryland Hotel.

Everyone keeps asking me if I'm excited to be going on this trip, and I honestly can't decide! I'm not really sure why my boss thinks this will be a good way to "expand my horizons" professionally, but that's because I really have no clue exactly what I'll be doing at this convention! So perhaps his reasoning will become clear once I get there.

The only thing I can look forward to for now is the fact that, for the first time in 22 years, I'll be returning to the "wrong side of the river," as we Californians have always referred to anything east of the Mississippi. I know it's not the correct thing to be looking forward to about a business trip, but I'm really hoping for a few free hours over the next four days to do some exploring and make some jaunts down Memory Lane!

We used to live in a gorgeous house on 2012 Sunnyslope Lane in a little Nashville bedroom community called Goodlettsville. I hope to walk up to that front porch again, knock on the door, introduce myself to whoever lives there now and say, "Pardon me, but I used to live in your house 25 years ago, and would like to know if I may take a picture of the outside?" Perhaps they'll be so tickled by the idea that they'll invite me in for sweet tea and let me see the inside. And then I can tell them all about how we practiced our sledding on the basement stairs, or how we found a dozen old, moldy cheese balls in the nooks and crannies of the kitchen as we were moving out, or about the night my great-grandma died right there in that living room while watching "Dallas"...

Hmm... on second thought, maybe not...

There are other places I hope to see while I'm there, like the old church where we used to ditch Sunday School classes to go climbing in the old belfry, or the park where we played softball and decorated an old historic mansion with themed Christmas trees (where my own Christmas decorating madness first began!), or the school where my crazy fifth-grade teacher decorated our classroom with Barry Manilow posters... wrong side of the river indeed!

One of the places I used to visit all the time, though, I know I'm going to see -- and that's the Opryland Hotel itself! We used to visit there every Christmas to see their amazing conservatory transformed by hundreds of poinsettias and twinkle lights, and several other times during the year to play at the theme park or tour the conservatory and gardens. And now, I'm going to get to actually stay in the hotel!

So whether or not I see the old house, the old church, the old park, or the old school, I will have at least one chance this weekend to reconnect with a part of my childhood, and that's something I am definitely looking forward to!

it's not rocket science...

Children do not work here, and grown ups should definitely know better.

It's not rocket science people!

When you've finished "your business," you flush. Simple as that.

So why do I keep discovering so many unflushed toilets at work?

Perhaps I should notify HR... apparently, a new prerequisite needs to be added to some job descriptions:

"Prefer 5-6 years experience in the field, a college degree, typing minimum of 50 wpm, and proven ability to operate a toilet..."

john piper does the death crawl with the little drummer boy

Three different things have been swirling around each other in my mind lately, and it recently dawned on me (in one of those glorious moments of epiphany!) that they are actually three expressions of the same essential truth.

It all began with John Piper, and reading his book Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist. It's one of those life-application books about Christianity that is so simple, it's profound. Anyone who is familiar with John Piper knows his foundational philosophy: "God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him." The book is about not only seeking God, but desiring to seek Him (hence the title), and how to find and express true joy in our relationship with Him. While reading this (and I still am, because it's very deep and there are many more golden nuggets to glean), I found myself struck with the thought that I'm not always satisfied in God, that I'm often not even thinking about Him. I've wasted a lot of time (and who hasn't?) pursuing satisfaction in the things of this world -- a good job, a steady paycheck, a solid group of friends, even a good church -- and not truly pursuing God Himself. In other words, I was compartmentalizing God into certain areas of my life, and not letting Him be my all-in-all.

That's when I saw Facing the Giants for the first time. I got it through Netflix, and popped it into my DVD player with rather low expectations. By the time the end credits rolled, I had added it to my shopping list and bought it at Wal-Mart that night. All I could say was WOW! And then watch it again. The film is about Grant Taylor, a football coach at a Christan high school who transforms the team's philosophy, encouraging the otherwise-apathetic students to begin giving God their very best in every aspect of their lives, including football. The most powerful scene happens about halfway through the movie - it's known as "The Death Crawl." Brock, a defensive lineman for the team, is asked to carry another team member across the field on his back, using only his arms for strength and his feet for balance. In the past, he has gone 10 yards as part of his team drills, but this time Grant asks hims to give him his very best. "What, you mean, like, the 30?" Brock asks, thinking that triple his usual distance would be his best. Grant replies, "I think you can go to the 50." Brock sneers, "The 50?! I could go to the 50 if no one's on my back." Grant is quick to reply, "I think you can do it with Jeremy on your back, but even if you can, I want you to give me your absolute best." After making Brock promise several times to give his very best, Grant adds one more condition, "I want you to do it blindfolded, because I don't want you giving up at a certain point when you could go further." Brock begins the crawl with Jeremy on his back, and all the while Grant is walking right beside him, motivating him like a drill sergeant. The rest of the team is snickering on the sidelines, shaking their heads and making fun of Brock. But the farther Brock crawls, the quiter the team becomes, until eventually they have to stand up and walk after him to see just how far down the field Brock's "crawling." All the while, Grant is shouting into Brock's ears, "You don't quit! You promised me your best! You give me your very best! Your very best! You don't quit on me!" When he finally collapses and Jeremy rolls off his back, Brock is shaking and sweating and crying facedown into the grass, "It's gotta be the 50! It's gotta be the 50! I don't have anymore left!" Then Grant removes his blindfold and says, "Look up, Brock. You're in the end zone." At last, the apathy is broken through, and Brock and his teammates finally begin to realize what it means to give God their best. Brock was striving for what he thought was his best -- the 50 yard line -- but because he couldn't see where he was being led, he learned that he had a lot more to give.

And then I came across a wonderful version of "The Little Drummer Boy." I used to think this Christmas carol was one of the hokiest, lamest songs out there -- as if there was really a drummer at the manger in Bethlehem! -- but this version of the carol finally made me focus on the words (without the pah-rum-pum-pum-pum's):

Little baby
I am a poor boy, too
I have no gift to bring
that's fit to give a King
shall I play for you on my drum?

Mary nodded
The ox and lamb kept time
I played my drum for Him
I played my best for Him
Then He smiled at me, me and my drum

This carol now makes me think about all the things we can't give God, because we aren't worthy. In order for God and man to be reconciled, it was God who had to stoop to our level... we could never raise ourselves to Him. But God doesn't ask us to do that: He asks us to simply give back to Him the best of what He first gave to us. This little boy was given the gift of a drum, and his obligation was to play it with everything he had. And that is was makes the Lord smile down upon us. That is how we reflect His glory. And that is how we find our deepest satisfaction and joy in life -- by pursuing God's pleasure, not our own. Which brings me back to John Piper...

These thoughts are all still swirling about, and I'll still be thinking about all of this long after Christmas is over...

"true love"

This is an iPod game... and quite hilarious! Try it for yourself and see! (And yes, all of my answers below are completely legit, and are actually order in which my songs came up on the shuffle!)

INSTRUCTIONS:
1. Put your iTunes/iPod on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!


If someone says "Is this okay?" you say?
"What if I Stumble" (dcTalk)

What would best describe your personality?
"From the Heart" (Hoobastank)

What do you like in a guy/girl?
"Woohoo" (Newsboys)

How do you feel today?
"With or Without You" (U2)

What is your life's purpose?
"Your Love Endures" (Third Day)

What is your motto?
"Who Can Compare" (Foolish Things)

What do your friends think of you?
"Stand and Feel Your Worth" (Thrice)

What do you think about very often?
"Circle Slide" (The Choir)

What is 2+2?
"Cadal Cah Dean Mi" (Anna Mhoireach)

What do you think of your best friend?
"My Jesus" (Sarah Macintosh)

What do you think of the person you like?
"Sailing on the Seven Seas" (OMD)

What is your life story?
"Black Stallion" (George Winston - piano version of the movie theme)

What do you want to be when you grow up?
"Out of Control" (Hoobastank)

What do you think when you see the person you like?
"Salvation" (Guardian)

What do your parents think of you?
"Eleanor Rigby" (The Beatles)

What will you dance to at your wedding?
"Celtic Agression" (Tonic)

What will they play at your funeral?
"Down Under" (Men at Work)

What is your hobby/interest?
"Staple It Together" (Jack Johnson)

What is your biggest secret?
"If These Walls Could Speak" (Amy Grant)

What do you think of your friends?
"Short but Sweet" (David Templeton)

What's the worst thing that could happen?
"Here With Me" (Dido)

How will you die?
"Behind These Hazel Eyes" (Kelly Clarkson)

What is the one thing you regret?
"Venus" (Bananarama)

What makes you laugh?
"The Lust, the Flesh, the Eyes and the Pride of Life" (The 77's)

What makes you cry?
"Sorgsen Ton (Stomped Bread)" (Garmarna)

Will you ever get married?
"We Could Send Letters" (Aztec Camera)

What scares you the most?
"My Immortal" (Evanescence)

Does anyone like you?
"Love Song to a Ballerina" (George Winston)

If you could go back in time, what would you change?
"Spot in Line" (Jon McLaughlin)

What hurts right now?
"She's the One" (Robbie Williams)

What will you post this as?
"True Love" (Code of Ethics)

What do you think about your job?
"Karma Killer" (Robbie Williams)

How do you feel about the future of our country?
"Loving Me" (Jon McLaughlin)

If a genie granted you three wishes, what would they be?
1) "Mony, Mony" (Billy Idol)
2) "Last Lullaby Here" (George Winston)
3) "Whirley Wheel" (Dryve)

whiplash, resistance, and growth

I love Election Day. It's always fun! I love standing in line, observing with amusement the motley crew of voters assembling with me. I love the many different signs required by law -- "100 Foot Limit," "Official Polling Place," "No Smoking," and many others -- and how they are all lovingly attached to the polling-place doors with duct tape by an election official who clearly thinks he is MacGuyver. Most of all, I love that I live in a free and democratic republic where I have the right and privilige of standing in that line and casting that ballot for the leadership of my country.

But let's face it -- Election Day is only really fun if your guy wins. Sadly, mine did not.

It's not that I was completely confident in a McCain victory, but I was hopeful... even if only naively so. It was sort of like being stopped at a red light and seeing a speeding idiot racing up behind you in your rearview mirror. You tighten your grip on the wheel and brace yourself for the impact, but secretly you're still hoping he'll wise up and find his brakes in time. After the impact, the ensuing whiplash serves as a painful reminder that you can never be too alert, too casual when you're behind the wheel, because you simply can't take for granted that everyone else is as diligent as you are when driving. Not everyone cares about the rules of the road.

The same diligence is required in living the Christian faith. You can never be too alert, too casual, because you simply can't take for granted that everyone else is living the by same rules of morality, justice and liberty. No matter how hard you brace yourself for a clash of ideas, the impact and whiplash still hurt.

Obama's victory was, for me, a spiritual car wreck, and I spent that entire evening sulking about the whiplash I know will last for the next four years. I took up my pen (okay, keyboard) to write down all of the bitter, angry, hateful words that rushed to my mind in the wake of his victory speech. Like the disciples on the stormy sea of Galilee, I cried out bitterly, "Lord! Don't You care?!?!" I said a lot of stupid things, lingered in many bitter conversations, and offered up many tearful prayers and petitions....

It was only when all my stupid, selfish words were spent that I, like those disciples so long ago, remembered that there is only one absolute truth, one bottom line -- that is, that God is still God, and I am still not.

He was right there in the boat with the disciples, and He was right there in the voting booths of our nation. Nothing that happened on November 4th took Him by surprise... and nothing could ever happen that would be outside of His control. The winds and stormy seas still obey Him, and the leaders of nations are still used by Him for His purposes and ultimate glory. The Bible is full of examples of pagan kings and leaders being used by God to affect His purpose for His children, and that purpose has always been the same throughout the course of history -- namely, that God wants us to grow into His image and likeness, to become more like Him.

Oftentimes that growth only happens because of resistance, because things don't go our way. The classic example of this is the Biosphere, the man-made "Garden of Eden experiment" built in southern Arizona a decade or so ago. Man, in his arrogant folly, set out to create a perfect world, a flawless environment in which there would be no pollution, no ozone depletion, no chemically-altered food or endangered species. Life inside the Biosphere was designed by man to be perfect. But it wasn't. There was something wrong with the trees -- despite living in a "perfect" environment, they were all dying. They were tall and straight and upright and looked perfect in man's eyes, but they weren't surviving. Why? Because there was no wind. One of the chief lessons learned in the Biosphere experiment was that trees need the resistance of the wind in order to live. In other words, a "perfect" world meant death for the trees because they had no adverse conditions in which to grow strong. Trees were never meant to be tall and straight and upright -- they were meant to be crooked and lopsided and battered by the elements. Only when a tree stands against the wind does it thrive.

So, too, does history show that God's people thrive when faced with adversity. In fact, God instigates that adversity in the lives of His children purposely to build up their strength. The Babylonian exile, the Roman persecution, the Reformation, even the pilgrims' settlement of the New World... time and time again the Church has faced tough times precisely because it needs those tough times in order to live. History also shows that when the Church has become "mainstream," when everything appears to be going its way -- Solomon's temple, the Holy Roman Empire and the like -- it loses its diligence and becomes lazy, taking its prominent status for granted. From the very beginning, since the moment of the Great Commission, the Church has thrived in the face of resistance.

And I believe we are entering a new season of such resistance with the election of Obama to our nation's highest office. Having held a prominent social and cultural position for the past generation, perhaps the Church has become lazy and lost some of its diligence when it comes to what really matters. Now, facing a new national leader whose words and actions are vehemently opposed to the teachings of Christ, who believes the rules by which our society lives are not God-given or absolute, God's people are about to meet some heavy winds of resistance, perhaps even outright persecution. But like the cloud of saints and witnesses who have gone before us, we should not shrink back in self-pity or fear, but turn our faces into the wind and embrace it -- even rejoice in it! -- knowing that it's the very same resistance that will make us stronger and conform us evermore into the likeness of Jesus Christ. This is exactly what God promises us in His Word:

Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. (James 1:2-4 NAS)

So even while we are feeling the whiplash of this week's events, we can take hope and rejoice in the winds of resistance that are to come, because God promises we will grow stronger and taller and closer to Him as a result. After all, those are the same winds that obeyed Him on the Sea of Galilee, and they obey Him still...

power outage = good thing

I woke up to a power outage this morning... which is usually not a good thing. But today was different.

At 6:00am on the dot, I heard a loud "BANG!" outside, and everything went quiet and dark. My bedroom fan stopped, the streetlights were no longer shining through my windows, the neighbors loud TV went mute. You know how it is when things are too quiet... when everything is too still, too dark. Fortunately, I had a flashlight on my nightstand, so with a quick slip-on of the slipper and a fuzzy bathrobe, I was fully prepared to explore the dark and try to find out what had happened. But that wasn't the really good thing about today.

It took me ten minutes to find an old utility bill with a customer service phone number on it, so by the time I called to report the outage, the dispatcher simply replied, "Oh yes, we've received several calls and already have a truck on the way." Before I'd hung up, I saw the flashing lights of a large utility truck rolling down the street. But that wasn't the really good thing about today.

Another fortunate circumstance was that I love to take candlelight bubble baths, so my bathroom was already fully stocked with more than enough candles to light the entire house. Getting dressed and ready for work was not a problem. But that wasn't the really good thing about today.

I was planning to take an extended lunch break today to help out a friend in need, so I wanted to get to work early to make up the time. I was at my desk and working one full hour earlier than usual, which turned out to be the exact amount of time I needed to make up. But that wasn't the really good thing about today.

Being at work early, I was actually at my desk at the time that my cell phone alarm normally goes off to wake me up in the morning. But it didn't go off. Having gone to bed really late last night, I apparently I forgot to set it.

Had the power not gone out, I would not have woken up early, or been to work early, or been on time to take my friend to her doctor's appointment, or made up the time away from work to keep from losing pay. In short, my day would've really stunk.

But God knew I didn't set my alarm, so He provided a plan B. And it's always a good thing to know that the Lord has your back... :-)

why i quit tv

I have been without bona fide television for eight years now, and I really don't miss it. Not that I don't own an actual television set, but it's used only for watching DVDs. I did cave in and purchase a set of rabbit ears for it a couple years ago, shortly after I drove through a blizzard to get to work only to discover that work was closed because of the weather. Or the day shortly thereafter when I wore the requisite (and dreaded!) skirt and pantyhose to work, only to learn from my trousers-clad female coworkers that the forecasted high was low enough for me to have worn trousers, too. At that moment, I decided I should invest in some way to watch TV news and weather reports, especially during the winter. And that's all I've used the TV for -- checking the weather in winter, and watching DVDs. And my life was happy.

But over the past month, the dreaded TV - even with only the 5 local channels I get -- has begun encroaching into my life again. I've begun watching presidential conventions and debates. I now know when "Friends" reruns air on the local Fox affiliate. And when I was home sick a week or so ago with nothing to do but sleep on the couch with several boxes of Kleenex and a large trash can beside me, I discovered that that same Fox channel shows nothing all day long except courtroom shows. After one slightly-enjoyable half-hour of "Family Feud," I was stuck watching "Divorce Court," "People's Court," "Christina's Court," "Judge Mathis," "Judge Joe Brown," "Judge Karen," "Judge Moron," "Idiot's Court," "White Trash Court," "Humiliate Myself on National Television Just for the Money Court".... it went on and on and on! Hour after hour of the most pathetic people, the most pathetic stories, the most pathetic situations I've ever heard of.

Case in point: a woman married with three children and a fourth on the way is suing her husband for the cost of expenses to move out with the kids, because she's had enough. The husband is convinced none of the children are his because she's been so unfaithful, and the wife herself doesn't believe any of them are his. He knows the men she's been cheating on him with, and has spoken to them numerous times (some even during their clandestine meetings with his wife!). Meanwhile, the husband has brought his girlfriend -- who is living with him and his wife and kids in their house -- to the court with him as a character witness! The girlfriend, unknownst to him, is hacking into his wife's MySpace page and posting slutty pictures and comments of her. The wife wants to sue the girlfriend for defamation of character. Paternity tests prove the kids really are her husband's, at which point he agrees to go ahead and pay the moving expenses because he wants to set a good and responsible example for his kids...

Not only do these kinds of stories (and yes, this was a true case that I actually watched that day) highlight everything that's wrong and warped and messed up about our society today, but the fact that someone would actually seek to profit from these stories by parading them on national television under the guise of "entertainment" just makes me mad. What's the point of watching this kind of stuff??? There is nothing entertaining about broken marriages and broken families. On the contrary, it's heartbreaking and saddening...

... and a jolting reminding of why I quit TV in the first place...

the spontaneous season

Colorado's seasons are very distinct -- it's one of the things I love most about my new home state. I've always wanted to live in a place where leaves change colors, where snow glistens, where blossoms bud, where warm sunshine meets cool breezes. And I particularly love how spontaneous these changes are here in Colorado -- the first snow always seems to come from nowhere, the first green leaves of spring always burst in giant clusters, the first summer thunderstorm always scares the beejeezus out of you...

But no Colorado season arrives as suddenly as autumn. Early last week I noticed nothing unusual when I pulled into my normal parking spot at work, but by the end of the week the tree I normally park underneath was solid gold. I've always thought autumn comes on gradually, like gray hair, but here in Colorado it buys peroxide and goes bleach-blonde overnight. The very next day, the three trees surrounding that one had joined in the bleaching party, and gold abounded everywhere. This week, the leaves are mostly on the ground and the limbs are already bare...

Not to be outdone by the quick-changing leaves, the sunshine even gets in on the act. One day I'm coming home from church in the fading glow of sunset -- and the very next, I have to remember to leave the porch light on because it will be pitch black before I get home.

No warning, no gradual changes here... autumn in Colorado just spontaneously combusts. And I love it!

shaking hands with history

I awoke before dawn today to witness history. John McCain and Sarah Palin were hosting a rally right here in Colorado Springs, and I wasn't going to miss it. I was in line at the old airport hangar by 6:30am... and after standing in a crowd of strangers for over seven hours, I was able to shake hands with that history.

Actually, the crowd wasn't entirely strangers. As has happened to me in previous political rally experiences, you don't remain strangers with your fellow attendees for long. I met a lovely retired Air Force couple from Denver and a pair of ladies from Fort Collins while standing near the front of the line (we were about 200 people back), and we had a great time chatting for hours about the upcoming election, what the candidates would actually be like in person, why the man behind us received special bathroom access denied to the rest of us (turns out he was the Monument police chief), and how much warmer we'd be once the sun came up.

Our first glimpse of history was being able to line up right near the flight line where John McCain's "Straight Talk Express" airplane was parked. A second plane was parked right behind it, with "McCain-Palin" emblazoned across it, and that's when the enormity of the possibilities really began to hit me. The oldest presidential candidate was here, my long-term senator from the home state of Arizona. The first Republican woman nominated for vice president was here, and I was going to hear her speak. Maybe I'd even be close enough to get somes pictures.

Little did I know that somehow, in some way I could have never foreseen, I would end up in the very front row! Surrounded by a new group of only-strangers-for-a-few-minutes, we all cheered the various preliminary speakers and sang along to all of the great patriotic tunes performed by a brass quintet and a jazz band. We gleefully shouted "One nation UNDER GOD!" as the Boy Scouts led us in the Pledge of Allegiance. We sang along proudly and loudly with Lee Greenwood's immortal "I'm Proud to be an American." We even managed to appreciate the little high school cheerleading squad who tried to lead us in rounds of "U.S.A.!" and "Palin Power" chants, but who were woefully out-decibeled by the ever-expanding crowd and ever-mounting anticipation. Our feet were numb and our lower backs were killing us from standing on concrete and asphalt for hours, but no one complained. We were too excited, and the excitement continued to build...

Finally, a cheer from the back of the crowd signaled the arrival of the executive vehicles. Only a few minutes to wait until the future President and Vice President of our country would be in the building! I began to wish for earplugs and the cheering and shouts of children and adults of all ages reached even higher levels and reverberated off the metal ceiling and walls. It was only a matter of time before the place would erupt...

And erupt it did when, a few moments later, Sarah Palin entered the building with John and Cindy McCain in her wake. It was one of those breathtaking moments that make you feel so proud and so blessed to be an American...

Sarah Palin spoke first, presenting many fine highlights from her introductory and convention speeches. She didn't really say anything new, but it was thrilling to witness her intensity and sincerity first-hand. If you have been awed by her confidence through yout television set, I promise you, it is NOTHING compared to how electrifying she is in person! (And yes, boys, she really is that good looking!)

She then turned the podium over to John McCain, and a noise level I thought could not possibly get any higher somehow did. McCain has frequently been derided as a poor public speaker during this campaign, but that's definitely not the man who stood six feet in front of me today. He spoke with a passion and earnestness that is impossible to convey on television, but is impossible to ignore in person. And his message of change was emphatic and heart-felt, and the crowd couldn't help drowning out his final remarks with all the enthusiam and patriotism he inspired.

The highlight of the day was one I couldn't capture on film, however, and that was the moment when he and Palin came down off the stage to greet the crowd. What had been a friendly-but-well-packed crowd was quickly becoming a mosh pit as everyone pressed forward with outstretched arms, just hoping for a grazing touch or wave from the candidates as they passed by. Pressed up as I was against the rail, with arms full of campaign signs and American flags, it was all I could do to stay on my feet! But they made their way toward me, surrounded by an entourage of Secret Service agents, and I was one of the fortunate ones who shook all of their hands.

John McCain noticed my red Arizona Diamondbacks hat, and as I shook his hand I was able to say, "God bless you, sir." He thanked me and said, "And you."

Cindy McCain is a gorgeous woman with a gorgeous smile, and as I shook her hand I said, "My brother is in Iraq and I'm praying for your sons, too." (She and John have a son in the Navy and another in the Marine Corps.) She said, "Thank you, I will pray for your brother, too."

Sarah Palin is as approachable and friendly as she is confident and enthralling, and as I shook her hand I said, "God bless you and your family, Sarah. You are all in my prayers." She took my hand with both of hers and smiled wide. "That means so much to me, thank you," she said as she gave my hands a squeeze.

It all happened so quickly, they were such fleeting moments... and yet every single one of them looked me directly in the eye as they spoke to me. I left the rally feeling as though I could walk the streets of Washington, D.C. in a few months, see John McCain in a Presidential motorcade driving by, and he'd stop the car to say, "Hey, there's that Diamondbacks fan I met in Colorado!" Those fleeting moments of personal connection made a lasting impression on me... one of pride in my country and its leaders, one of heartfelt sincerity and passion about the things that matter most in this world and in this country, one of deep appreciation for our nation's history and of hope and wide-eyed optimism for its future.

Every American should experience this kind of bubbling, overflowing enthusiasm for our freedom at least once in their lives. This love of country is so unique to America, we must cherish it! I consider myself extremely blessed to have experienced it today, when I was given the chance to shake hands with history... Come on, sing along with me...

And I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free -- and I won't forget the men who died who gave that right to me -- and I'll gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today -- 'cause there ain't no doubt I love this land... God bless the U.S.A.!

hope is kindled

My favorite moment from the entire LOTR trilogy is near the beginning of the third film, The Return of the King. Pipping succeeds in lighting the beacon fire at Minas Tirith as Gandalf whispers under his breath, "Hope is kindled..."

The music begins to swell and the emotions begin to soar as the chain of beacon lights atop the mountains of Middle Earth begin to burn bright... the people are uniting for a common cause, the defeat of the evil that is overtaking their land!

This scene never fails to move me to tears and give me goosebumps!

A similar scene happened today in Dayton, OH. A beacon of hope was lit for our country and its leadership. And as I watched history being made, I was covered in goosebumps and moved to tears...

With the nomination of this amazing conservative and Christian leader -- who just happens to be a woman -- as the Republican Vice Presidential candidate, hope has indeed been kindled for our country and its future...

fireproof

One of the perks of working at a place like Focus on the Family is that you get to see advance screenings of great movies. Here's one that you MUST mark on your calendars!