my new bible

I love it.

Just looking at it makes me happy.

this weekend's movie recommendation

The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio

humanity i love you

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it's there and sitting down

--e.e. cummings

There is this site I love to read.
Because it's about people, and how they are.
Funny, disgusting, sad, clueless, brilliant, vulgar, ridiculous, lonely, and endearing.
It isn't all that clean or whatever, but it is real.

It's called Overheard in New York. And that's pretty self-explanatory. Here are some of my favorites:

Teen girl #1: We're not going to KFC! Their food is, like, poison.
Teen girl #2: Yeah, they kill their chickens alive.

--96th & Lexington

Woman #1: Don't you hate taking the train so early in the morning? I take it every day.
Woman #2: Could you not talk to me?

--A train

Waiter: How would you like your eggs?
Guy: Can I get two eggs scrambled, one sunny side up?
Waiter: Um...I...Um...I don't...
Guy: Whatever. Give me three scrambled eggs. God.

--Ben Ash Delicatessen, 7th Avenue

Guy #1: Yo, what's the Louisiana Purchase?
Guy #2: You mad dumb, yo. That's when they illegally sold all that alcohol.

--St. Francis College, Brooklyn Heights

Guy: I could become a sheriff. Don't you have to take a test to become a sheriff? What if you have one of those disorders that you throw up whenever you take a test?
Girl: Well I guess you could get a note or something.
Guy: Oh yeah, you could be like, "I threw up on my test, that's why it smells funny. Here's a note."

--F train

i still love technology. always and forever.

I took this picture of Grams and Grampo with my cell phone. No flash. No hoopla. Now when they call, I see this. You gotta love technology.














And Grams and Grampo, who didn't really understand the entire concept, being that they were born only about 25 years after THE TELEPHONE WAS INVENTED, were very good sports about the whole thing.

Go here for an interesting technology timeline.

humble myself in the sight of the law

There are times when God encourages me, lifting me out of my feelings of fear, doubt, and self-condemnation. There are other times when He smacks me upside the head with a two-by-four, reminding me that pride does, indeed, goeth before a fall. I had one of those experiences yesterday. And it's a little embarrassing. But they say confession is good for the soul, so here I goeth.

I was visiting a young friend--Samo--who is incarcerated at Fresno's Juvenile Hall. Everyone who is visiting is either a parent, grandparent, sibling, or (think about this) an offspring of an inmate. The only exceptions to this rule are pastors and correctional officers. In this case I was given permission to visit by a court order, after a pretty thorough going-over by the judge and insistence on the part of Samo's mother that I am their family minister. I lack the required ordination papers that most visiting pastors would automatically carry.

Everyone entering the hall must undergo a search of their person, and you are not allowed to carry anything in. I knew this from before but had inadvertently left my sunglasses on and the key to my bike lock in my pocket. I was told I had to put those items in a locker.

Keep in mind that there is a long line of parents using up their Sunday afternoon--and visiting time--just waiting to get in. When they told me to put my stuff in a locker everyone in the line had to wait for me. All eyes were on me as I procured the lock from the security window and threw my stuff into a locker. I returned to the front of the line, and after the body search, off I went to see Samo.

Samo and I had a great time. We played several rounds of Speed and I thoroughly whipped his butt. Then he taught me a new game--Three Flowers--and I beat him at that, too. I usually suck at cards so I was being appropriately obnoxious and we were both laughing our heads off. At some point another parent seated at the same table said to Samo. "Wow. Your mom is whoopin' you." Samo responded by saying, "She's not my mom. She's my pastor."

Now I have to tell you that I felt myself puff up with pride, like one of those unsightly blowfish, or a smelly toad. I swear to you thoughts like this were going through my head: "I'm pretty special," and "Well now aren't I the holy one." Okay maybe not quite that blatant--I'm sure I prettied it up even inside my own head. But still. The content was there. Because I am not a 'pastor' anymore than anyone else who loves Jesus is. I am--by grace--privileged to love people whom Jesus calls to Himself. Anyone who knows me and the story of my life will tell you this is nothing short of a miracle, and one of those "God things" that no one can explain. So hearing Samo call me in all certainty his pastor made me feel quite proud. Of myself. "I'm a pastor" were the words that kept buzzing around in my head.

When our time was up I walked confidently back through the maze of locked doors and security buzzers to the front area. When I went to retrieve my stuff from the locker, the key I was given did not fit. After repeated tries one of the guards came over to question my activity and I explained my dilemma. She promptly informed me that I was trying to unlock Locker #4 with the key to Locker #7.

Then it dawned on me. I had screwed up. You weren't supposed to pick just any locker and use that one. There are (go ahead and laugh--you know you want to) corresponding keys and padlocks. Imagine that. When the guard dangled the key in front of my face, sure enough, I could plainly see a big fat #7 on my keyring.

The following moments were ones of pure humiliation for me. I won't give you all the details--my confession will only go so far--but suffice to say my punishment included shaking heads and clicking tongues, raised eyebrows and incredulous looks, bolt cutters, and an incident report.

At one point I heard one of the women say to another, "Mmmhmm. That's right. She's a pastor. I ain't lying, girl."

Ouch.

At which point I felt the need to clarify, and explain that I am simply a friend of the family that loves Samo, and prays for him. They didn't seem to care about my confession, but it was important for me to say it. For myself.

So yeah. I can just see God shaking His head at me, saying, "Look at her. I love her so much. What a doofus."

And that's okay. Because the thing is, I am a doofus. And God knows that and still loves me so very much. And uses me. And instructs me. And has unfathomable amounts of patience with me. Which reminds me to have patience with others. And with myself.

the dawn of a new era

time for this one to come home

Mostly people reading this will be too young to remember Tooter Turtle. But I remember him. And I've been thinking about him lately.

Tooter Turtle came from a TV cartoon show in the 60's. He lived in the forest, but was always wanting to go somewhere else or be someone else. So his pal Mr. Wizard the Lizard would wave his magic wand and send Tooter Turtle wherever he wanted to go. Like, to the dinosaur days as a caveman, to the moon as an astronaut, whatever. And always Tooter Turtle would get into trouble. So he would call out the familiar cry to be saved: "Help me Mr. Wizard!"

And then Mr. Wizard, being a kindly old lizard with infinite patience, would say the magic words:

"Drizzle, drazzle, dradle, drone
Time for this one to come home."

This part was always my favorite. I still saw it in my mind's eye even before I found the picture on the internet (and I was quite excited to see that picture, let me tell you--maybe a little too excited, even). Tooter Turtle would spin round and round, stars and swirls bringing him back to his home, where he belonged.

When he landed, a bit dazed, back in the lizard's house, Mr. Wizard always gave him a little lecture about being who you are and there's no place like home and all that. He would end it with this:

"Be what you is and not what you is not!
Folks that is what they is, is the happiest lot!"

Yeah. Good stuff.

So lately I have been--on occasion--feeling like I am spinning and swirling. A little bit like Tooter Turtle. Without the hat.

One day recently when I got that picture in my head of myself swirling around, I remembered (oddly) those words from my childhood: "Time for this one to come home."

So I sat there and thought about it for a while, and I realized that when I get like that, I am not home. Home to me is Jesus, centered in Him and focused on Him. Much like Tooter Turtle, I get in to a lot of trouble when I am away from Him. Sometimes it's even quite scary to my little turtle heart.

But when I call out to Jesus He is always there to bring me back on in. And I am really grateful for that.

So yeah. I just wanted to share that.

Go here for a most excellent little treat for your ears.

I'm supposed to be working...

...yet I'm laughing my butt off reading this.

mostly for Cory...but you can go there, too

Go here.

mostly for Melody...but you can read it too

Donald Miller's take on the whole Million Little Pieces episode

what's happening to my family?

First Brad had a rule: "No country western music allowed."

Then he bought not one but two cds. Then Nate and Tawnie went to Sadie Hawkins as bull riders.

Further proof we no longer live by the law but by grace.

home from nashville

Had a great time.
Glad to be home.
See more pictures here (view one at a time for notes and descriptions).

Thanks Mel for taking care of Shaddie.

hey from nashville

Coming to you live from a cyber cafe in Nashville...
Just a few observations:

It is very wet here. The air drapes itself on you and never lifts.

People are EXTREMELY friendly. They call you "dahlin" and "sugah."

I caught myself sayin y'all once and "nahce" instead of "nice" two times.

There is live music everywhere 24-7. Or if there is no live music, it is piped in from WSM. Even underwater in the lap pool. No kidding.

Country music has an incredibly rich history, which I discovered on our trip to The Country Music Hall of Fame.

I still love dancing for hours.

Bananas Fosters are good.

More later. I think we are going to The Wild Horse Saloon tonight. Yeah. I know. Crazy.

bye y'all

Heading to Nashville for a few days. Which is kind of odd, actually. But I'm excited.

george and jesus

George's dad has died. I think it was yesterday at 3:30 a.m.

Because I know George and how Jesus shines out of him I like to imagine the people around George, watching him, getting to know him.

It's as if I can see the expressions on their faces: the smiles, the heads slightly tilted to one side as they wonder about this man, and try to figure out what is different about him.

It's Jesus, of course. And God will bring good from this thing that has happened. Without ever being there I know in my heart that in some way hearts were touched, and souls were turned towards our maker, and lives will be changed.

We love you George and our prayers surround you.

this is cool.

You can do it here .



Thank you Dave for schooling me yet again.

for melody

...and whether you turn to the right or the left
your ears will hear this command behind you:
"This is the way. Walk in it."

Isaiah 30:21

chewing the fat and bleeding like a stuck pig

I like this funky little site called Origins of Phrases.

Because our language is weird.

Did you know the origin of this phrase? Sometimes it seems like there's a lot of stuff I don't know but should.

The writing is on the wall

Meaning:	One can see the inevitable result of circumstances.
Example:	We are having a downsizing and the writing is on the wall: we'll all be cut loose.
Origin:	From the Book of Daniel in the Bible's Old Testament. Belshazzar, the king of Isreal, had stolen from the temple in Jerusalem. At a party where wine was being consumed, the fingers of a man's hand appeared and wrote on the wall. The interpretation of the writing was that the King's days were numbered. He had been weighed on the scales and found deficient and his kingdom was divided and given to the Medes and Persians. That same night, Belshazzar was killed.

everything looks better...

...on Mozilla Firefox.

i just don't think kids should have to 'google themselves'

-Stop, Block and Tell!!! (Don't respond to any cyberbullying message, block the person sending it to you and tell a trusted adult)

-ThinkB4UClick (Check what you are sending before you send it...think about it from the recipient's point of view)

-R-E-S-P-E-C-T (Use good netiquete and respect the feelings and bandwidth of others)

-Keep Personal Information Private (The more information someone has about you, the more easily they can bully you)

-Google Yourself! (Conduct frequent searches for your own information online and set alerts...to spot cyberbullying early)

-Take 5! (Walk away from the computer when something upsets you, so you won't do something you will later regret)

Sitting in front of a fire, with my shoes off, people I love around me making me laugh, listening to my babbling, talking to one another, praying together....

Good way to end a hard day.

Thanks.

To quote Cosby's video.... it's the dopest route to a calm state.

Yeah.