Dalai Bama

I wake up this morning in the Obama Nation. What will the next four years bring? To listen to the Republicans, socialism and left wing extremism on an unprecedented level, increased taxes, more abortion clinics, the complete undermining of Biblical marriage, etc... Obamunism. To listen to the other side, Obama is, as Louis Farrakhan put it, "the Messiah." Seriously. Barak Obama is nothing if not charismatic, and his followers, in my experience, tend to elevate him to the status of religious figurehead. They wax eloquent about him to the point that you begin to wonder if he puts his pants on one leg at a time or if they just materialize around his waist. I suspect the truth is somewhere in between. He'll start out fairly centrist, then lean increasingly to the left. And there WILL be change. Of that there can be little doubt. The Dems not only took the Presidency, they also increased their leads in both houses of congress. That means that, for better or worse, Obama has tons of friendly support with which to accomplish whatever it is he sets about doing.

Truthfully, I could care less what the man does. (And what will the NAACP do now that "The Man" is black, I wonder? You can't go blaming 'the man' when you are the man, right?) I mean, I'll have an opinion about government policies, and I might even share that opinion through an opinion piece in a newspaper, or an e-mail to my congressman or senator, but the reality I care about is much closer to home. As awesome as it must be to influence 300 million people with the strke of a pen, I'm much more comfortable talking to people face to face. And no matter what the president does from his office in Washington, I'll be ready here to help people deal with the reality of day to day living in a broken world.

Oh yes, the world IS broken, and no president, not even Barak Obama can change that. As Dallas Willard once wrote, "Human problems cannot be solved by human means." And that's the real problem here. Millions of people are looking to a new president to solve the problems in their lives, but what everyone seems to miss is that only Jesus can satisfy the lnging in their souls. Better health care, free gas and a winning lottery ticket in every mailbox just won't get it done. It might make you a bit more comfortable, but for how long? Until the next divorce? The next bankrupcty? The next human tragedy that touches your life? Jesus is the Messiah. The president is just a man. Unfortunately, I think a lot of Americans have forgotten that.

He's just a regular guy, people!

I voted this morning, but to be honest, I didn't vote for either McCain or Obama. So I'm really not trying to influence who anyone votes for or make a political statement one way or the other about either of the two major party candidates. While piddling about the internet I stumbled across these posters, however, and I do have to say that they really caught my attention. Why? Because I've seen way to many Obama supporters who have elevated him as a candidate not based on merit, but because they bought the hype that he's going to change everything tomorrow, and we'll all have better jobs and insurance and world peace will break out instantly, poverty will end overnight, adult illiteracy will stop now, and dogs and cats will get along and I won't have to pay my mortgage anymore and magic fairies will take out the trash for me every week! Hallelujah! Amen and amen!

Gimme a break! Honestly. I don' care who you vote for, but at least have the common sense to understand that Barak Obama is just another man. On the upside he's thoughtful, intelligent, and charismatic. And I LOVE that he's there at the end of every single one of his ads that I've seen. Good or bad, "I'm Barak Obama and I approved this message." There's an element of integrity to that which is seriously lacking on the Republican side who's ads are backed by various political action committees and private interest groups, but rarely by McCain himself. (Of course, I can only speak from my experience here. It is possible that this argument would be entirely undermined by a greater sampling of political ads on both sides, although I'm pretty sure the surgeon general would agree that that would be bad for my health.) Anywho, on the downside, Mr. Obama is given to questionable judgment in who he associates with, makes outrageous claims he can't possibly back up, is determined to undermine Biblical marriage and thinks its okay to kill babies before they're born. Now, given that we already have a strongly democratic senate and congress, I expect that the nation will change pretty radically in the near future. But not because Obama walk on water. His pooh stinks like everyone else's. And the change he represents isn't necessarily for the good.

Anyway... I don't want this to be an anti-Obama diatribe, I just wish his followers would be a little less blinded by the glitz and glam of his 750 BILION dollar campaign. I could just as easily hash the McCain campaign for entirely different reasons. It just so happens that I didn't stumble across any really cool anti-McCain posters.

When will we wake up to our desperate need for stronger third party voting?

Oil-industry profits

So, Exxon Mobile Corporation reported nearly $15 BILLION in quarterly profits this week. Not bad. In fact, in the history of mankind, in the history of business, since the first cavemen traded rocks and sticks, nobody anywhere in any industry has ever reported bigger profits. And whose record did Exxon break? Its own. When was the previous record reported? Last quarter. Yes, in the past six months Exxon has made over $25 BILLION for its shareholders. Not bad. And, of course, those profits are completely unrelated to the price of gas. Just ask the company. For the past year they (and every other major oil corp) been telling anyone who'll listen (using media interviews, paid lobbyists, and advertising) that there is no correlation between their industry-wide record profits and the price of gas at the pump. And all this time I thought the companies that bought, processed, distributed and sold the product had something to do with setting the price of their product. Silly me. I guess I need to take a few more business courses. In the meantime, I'm gonna go get jacked at the pump again by whoever does actually make money on gas...

American politics, ugh.

“In my country, we have two parties. The stupid party, of which I am a member, and the evil party, which we oppose vehemently. Sometimes my party wins, in which case we get lots of stupid legislation. Sometimes the other party wins, in which case we get lots of evil legislation. Occasionally, the parties act together in what we call 'bipartisanship,' in which case we get legislation which is both evil and stupid.”

-Anonymous

I don't know who came up with that, but I'd like to kiss them right on the mouth. Our beloved presidential candidates who care so much about our country are spending more than a BILLION dollars combined to get themselves elected. The audacity of WHAT?! Obama will collect somewhere in the neighborhood of $700 million by election day. (He raked in $150 in September alone! Meanwhile, approximately eighty-seven thousand children starved to death in the same month. Uh, Senator...) McCain, meanwhile, is way behind with a measly $400-or-so million. And you'd better believe they'll use it. Of course, there'll be a little left over, I'm sure, to retire on if they need it. (It pays to be a candidate, or did you actually think Governor Palin was going to return that $200,000 wardrobe for which the Republican Party recently paid? Your financial contributions at work.)

And here I was thinking that the economy was in trouble. Apparently not. Apparently there are a myriad of Mavriholics and Obamunists out there who have plenty of disposable income available to give. If only we could convince them to give to something worthwhile...

One great day

Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. I spent some serious man-time with Nate during the day and got to baptize both him and Anna in the evening. The whole thing started out innocently enough with Anna asking to get baptized. She's asked several times about baptism over the past year, but we told her she needed to wait until she was seven. Yes, its somewhat arbitrary, but we decided that although all three of our kids accepted Christ at such a young age (the girls at four, Nate at five) that we'd make them all wait until they were seven to get baptized. Naturally, once Anna brought it up, Nate asked about it as well, which was interesting since he's never really mentioned it before. Anyway, we settled on the details (June 21 at the Saturday night service at church) and everyone was excited. Then we realized that Disney's newest pre-teen hit Camp Rock was scheduled to be released the night before. Now, I could care less about Walt Disney, but Alyssa was excited, so we arranged for her two cousins (Ava and Olivia) to come up from Commerce, OK to watch it with her and spend the night. That's when things got interesting.


With the girls coming over to spend the night, the plan was to send them home with family the next day after the baptism. Great plan, but there was a flaw: Nate. I love my son too much to abandon him to a day long estrogen festival. At this age, he needs some man-time. So I talked it over with him and we formulated our own plan. Friday night we watched Pirates of the Caribbean. Good movie, even if it is a little old for him. Then on Saturday, while the girls giggled and played dress up and had tea parties and all other sorts of fluffy fun, we went to Prairie State Park and hiked the Drover's Trail. It was a blast. Eighty-five degree heat, no trees, no water but what you carry in, and bison. Yes, bison. Huge, hairy, manly bison. And let me just add that there is no such thing as a girly bison. The bulls are over a thousand pounds, and even the cows are intensely manly, if for no other reason than that they can kill you if you play with them.


Anyway, our adventure started out with a close encounter with the bison. The herd was hanging out on the trail, so we approached with caution hoping that when they sensed our presence they would move. I was surprised at close we could get without startling them... And for the most part, the plan worked perfectly. The only exception is that when they did finally move, they moved in our direction! Not good.


"Nate, move faster!"


They weren't charging us, they were just curious about who we were. But when you're only seventy-five feet away, its still a bit scary to see about a million pounds of muscle and horns coming right at you. So as they meandered directly toward our position, we beat a hasty retreat back to the visitor's center which was the longest quarter mile I've ever had to travel. Since the Drover's trail is a loop, we decided to travel in the opposite direction and hope the bison had moved on when we got back to that point.



Did I mention that there is ZERO shade on the Drover's Trail? There are however, prairie chickens. I've never seen a prairie chicken, but we found three on our hike, which was really cool since they wait until you're almost on top of them before they break cover. The second one was so close when it took off that Nate and I were both startled enough to take a step back. Then an amazing thing happened; Nate found a chick. A prairie chick. That's just unheard of. We could go back on that trail a thousand times and not see it. I walked right over it. I think any adult would, but Nate's still pretty close to the ground, so he spotted the movement right away. I caught it and we took a picture with it... beautiful. The staff at the visitor's center was astounded. They asked for a copy of the picture.


By the time we got back to the place where the bison had blocked the trail, they'd moved on, so we had a clear shot to the visitor's center. The prairie was beautiful.



The prairie was also hot and muggy. We'd been on that trail for about two hours in the heat of the day and we here scorched, so our next stop was the creek that runs through the park. We soaked our feet, drank some water (I filtered it first!) and just relaxed for a bit before getting back in the car and heading for home. On the way out we stopped to help a box turtle cross the road. I love turtles. So does Nate. And, honestly, none of our adventure would have been worth it if he hadn't been there to share it with. I hope we can have many more outdoor adventures like it in the future.


The rest of the afternoon was pretty uneventful, but church was great. Pastor John brought a great message, Lloyd and the band were ON, and, of course, the whole family (Mandi's side) was there to watch the baptism. Anna and Nate did fantastic. The only hitch was that we got confused as to where the person taking pictures should stand, so all we got was their backs. Oh well. Being able to baptize your own children is one of life's greatest blessings. It's hard to describe, but it feels like you've done something right. And I don't mean that you didn't drown them, I mean that for the duration of their little lives it feels like, as a parent, you're not a complete failure. I think you have to have kids of your own to understand what I mean by that. Anyhow, I can't wait to see who they become as Christ molds their lives. Thank you, Jesus, for a fantastic day.

Relativism? Give me a break already!

There's so much more to say. I hate to even post this because it seems so shallow, so uncritical. It ignores important arguments to draw light to certain issues, and I hate that, but what can I do. I'd write a book, but within the context of this issue, there's not much to be said. It just needs said louder...

Moral relativism is a concept I've been wrestling with since I was in high school, over 20 years ago. And I'm just dumbfounded that it still exists. "True for you, but not for me," should've died out a long time ago. Given it's porous philosophical underpinnings, I can only attribute it's longevity and current popularity to the desire of man to ignore God and justify sin. Its impressive failure as a viable worldview should've sent it the way of dinosaurs and 8-track tapes, but it clings tenaciously on, as hip as ever, even if it does have the intellectual appeal of the emperor's new clothes. Its like the bacteria of the philosophical world; ubiquitous, often annoying, and unevolved.

What explains this unexpected stamina? I think it must be the sin nature of man. Because man is basically selfish, or evil, he desires above all else to serve himself. Anyone who's ever watched a baby sleep might argue, but everyone who's ever had a child knows this to be true. Babies are pre-programmed to get what they want, and they usually do. Nothing against children here, after all, I have three of my own whom I adore, but they are all undeniably selfish at heart. They have to be taught to share, serve and be considerate of others. It doesn't come naturally.

Altruism, which undeniably exists in human culture is an issue of conscience. C.S. Lewis called it the voice of God. But conscience dictates what we ought to do, not what we actually do. In this sense, conscience represents an understanding of Truth that exists apart from ourselves. Adam Smith called it an "impartial spectator." Whatever we might call it, it is the driving force behind that truth we each call 'morality.' Now, morality might be different from person to person and culture to culture, but it exists universally in the human condition. We are ALL moral people, even if those morals might put us at odds with one another. Some people might be immoral, but no one is amoral.

oops, I digress...

My point is that relativism, which is just, philosophically speaking, pooh, bunk, brain plaque that survives because we are all pre-programmed to fulfill our own desires (regardless of conscience) and relativism gives us the framework to do that. It makes it okay for me to do whatever I want because whatever I want is right for me. Relativism says that its okay for me to cheat on my wife because if that's what I feel is right, then it is right. Never mind the messy painful (for her)divorce, the psychological damage to the children, the awkward uncomfortable plight of friends. If I want to have an affair, its okay because its what I want. Relativism is the supreme elevation of the I within the philosophical moral framework. You are ultimately irrelevant. So if, for instance, I want to start bashing gays, or promote slavery, or forsake preserving the planet for future generations, you shouldn't have a problem with it. After all, as a moral relativist, you can't in good conscience impose your beliefs on me.

"But what about tolerance?!" you might cry. Tolerance is only a virtue if it exists outside the relativist framework. For that matter, the same can be said of diversity. The moment you start blathering on about tolerance, you refute your relativist position, you forsake your own moral high ground, hoping to have it back when non-relativist truth is imposed. But rationally you've lost. Like a spaghetti strainer, your worldview holds no water. Sorry.

The Truth is that relativism is a shallow excuse for people who want to thoughtlessly pursue their own selfish agenda without consequence. It is the philosophical low road. That university professors or their students embrace such claptrap remains unconscionable, not even worthy of the oft misabused title of Dogma.

Politcs. I hate politics.

You know, I was going to write something about the war in Iraq, or maybe politics, or how amazing it is that most people believe they have half a clue about either when, in fact, they don't, but I think now that I won't. I mean, just because you watch a little CNN or read a few newspaper articles, trolled the internet or caught some professorial tirade in a humanities class, or if you've done all of the above, it doesn't mean you know what you're talking about. And I know I'm in that category, so why bother expressing an opinion tainted by ignorance (free of the burden of knowledge, untainted by intelligence)? I mean, after all, whether you're a Republican or a Democrat or a Greenie, is pretty irrelevant to the war in Iraq. Only a dolt would believe that anyone really supports the war anymore. I mean, we ALL "support the troops," and we all want them to come home, so we agree on that. And I'm pretty sure that everyone with an I.Q. higher than your average fence post understands that we can't just pull everyone out and expect a better world, so we all pretty much agree on that. All we're really arguing about is what the criteria are for a stable Iraq. I mean, no one with an ounce of intelligence is going to pull troops until that objective is reached. The annoying thing is that you never really hear people talking about what a stable Iraq looks like... Shame on us all for ignoring the one issue we really ought to be discussing.

Meanwhile, we've got this real doozy of a presidential election coming up and I'm so excited I just might not vote. On one hand you've got John McCain, one of the most left-leaning Republicans out there, and on the other hand the only two democrats in the country that could actually lose. Seriously, if you'd told me a year ago that the Democrats might lose the election, I'd have laughed in our ignorant face. Today, that ignorance looks a lot like prophesy. Hillary Clinton may be the most hated woman in America, and the most loved. But people will vote for anyone to keep her from the Whitehouse. And the thought of having Bill Clinton for First Husband... scary. But the other option, Barrack Hussein Obama, isn't any better. Yes, he's wildly popular with people who don't listen very carefully to what he's saying, but he's getting shredded by pundits even before he gets the party nomination, and the gloves haven't even come off yet. He calls himself Christian, but his version of Jesus is skewed far from what most evangelicals believe and his pastor has already offended pretty much all of America. He connects well with his message of hope, but has no actual ability to deliver on his promises. And he a black man with the middle name of Hussein. Don't think that will be ignored. (It should be ignored, but let's be honest, if everything Democrats say about America is true--we have problems with religion and racism--it won't be.) So we've got the three lamest ducks anyone's seen in a long time vying for the right to become the President of the United States of America. How did it come to this?

Cancer Sucks

So today I found out that my mother has breast cancer. We don't know exactly what that means yet, but everyone is trying to stay positive because it was caught very early. Inside, however, it is as if a sledgehammer just collide with my soul. I can't really even talk about it without choking up. Mandi asked me when I got home from work if I was doing okay. I told her that other than swallowing hard to avoid crying every thirty seconds, I'm fine. Yeah, it's scary. I mean, she's my mother. I love her as much as I love anyone. The idea that I might lose her to cancer is a crushing weight.

Still, there is hope. When I first heard the news I was reading my Bible. The next verse I read after the call: 1 Samuel 2:9, which starts out, "He will protect his godly ones..." It was as if the hammer of God had struck back. I nearly wept on the spot. What does it mean? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything. But I have a hard time considering it a coincidence. The more time I spend with the Lord, the more such coincidences line up.

If you happen to think of it, I'd appreciate it if you'd say a prayer for Jacquelyn Smith, one of His godly ones...

Movie Day

So yesterday was a 3 movie day. I am so ashamed. We watched Horton Hears a Who, Surf's Up, and I Am Legend. Of the three, Legend was the worst by far. It was disappointing on more levels than I can easily share, or care to. Horton Hears a Who, on the other hand was pretty good. Not only was it somewhat entertaining, it had some pretty decent theological implications that I was glad my kids got to hear. The whole thing revolves around the idea that Horton the Elephant is in contact with people he can't see because his ears are so big. Soon, the rest of the jungle shuns him, led by a vicious kangaroo who boldly (and errantly) claims that if you can't see it, hear it, or feel it, it doesn't exist. Horton is labeled a dissident and the fun begins. The kangaroo will go to any length to rid Horton of the clover on which his invisible friends rest, including violence.

How like our own society. How like the atheist movement. It was uplifting to know that my children were there to witness on screen how easy it is to persecute someone who might not fit in exactly with the culture even though that person is totally justified in their beliefs and actions. Horton took a stand for what he believed, facing down even an angry mob because he knew he was right. How noble. How integritous. (I think I just invented a word there.)

The truth is that Horton's belief in his invisible friends, who had proven beyond reasonably doubt their existence to him, was the metaphorical equivalent to my own belief in Jesus Christ. He has proven to me thousands of times over that He is not only there and real, but Lord and God. That many others don't agree is a shame, but it doesn't make me wrong to believe as I do. The Flying Toaster and Spaghetti Monster crowd can shout and rant and rave all they want, they only look increasingly silly, ignorant and desperate for doing so. They can persecute the truth all they want, but they can't change it.

On the opposite side of Horton's dilemna is the mayor of Whoville, himself beset by weak-minded fools who impugn his reputation and resort to name-calling to prove their position. Again, the resemblance to most neo-darwinists I've encountered is uncanny. Yes, there exists an informed minority in the humanist/materialist/atheist crowd who are willing to politely engage in reasonable debate, but they are just that, a minority. Most of them fare no better than Seuss's kangaroo.

Buffalo National River 3.21.08

Although I have to admit a fair lack of diligence on my part, I was still thoroughly surprised today on my search for a decent outdoor experience in the Midwest. The Buffalo National River really came through. Ironically, we didn't actually visit the Buffalo River. Instead we spent several hours exploring the Lost Valley Trail, which is neither "lost," nor a "valley." Ha! Anyway, the trail ( just over 2 miles altogether) leads to Eden Falls and Eden Falls Cave, but has plenty to see along the way. About the only thing to complain about is the massive crowd of people who flock to the place.

The guidebook said it was a popular trail, but pulling into the parking lot at the trailhead was like pulling into a mall. There must have been at least thirty cars. And tents everywhere. It looked more like a tailgater at a fooball game than nature preserve. Still, it was better than anything I've seen yet in Indiana or Missouri. I'm pretty sure the Hoosiers would've paved the trail to make it wheelchair accessible. Sad wouldn't quite cover it... Anyway, it was a great experience.

As we headed up the trail I was at first disappointed, both by the crowd, and by the large sign that said "No Camping Beyond This Point" posted just a few feet from the trailhead. That first impression though was quickly proved inaccurate by the natural beauty of the surrounding area. The trail basically just runs along Clark Creek for a mile or so. We had a great time crossing and re-crossin the creek and at one point stopped for a while at a pool below a small set of falls coming out of a cave we could actually crawl through and come out on the opposite side back on the trail!

We climbed all over the place. Fortunately, we'd read a little beforehand about what to expect, so getting wet and muddy wasn't an issue. Dry, clean clothes were waiting for us back at the van.

Nate in particular had fun. I mean, we all had a great time climbing over the rocks, trying not to get swept down the creek into the pool, or break our necks falling off a ledge, but Nate was just fearless. He always has been. I remember as a baby he would climb relentlessly. I can't count how many times he fell. I'm afraid I've failed him as a father by yelling at him so much, from the time he was born, about trying what he can't do. If he ever cops to an inferiority complex, I'm the cause. Yet he's still just fearless. Today he climbed out onto a ledge overlooking the pool that even I was hesitant to go out on. I mean, other people were doing it as well, but one slip would mean cripplin damage or death for a six-year-old. And still I had to hold him back. Could he do it? Of course. He's Nate. He's as surefooted as a mountaingoat, a trait he's been working on forever, but I'm his dad. All I could think about was his safety. So we hit the ledge together.


By the time we got to Eden Falls we'd already climbed through one cave, seen a few spring flowers, played in the stream, and stood under several cliffs and small waterfalls. All in all, if we hadn't gone any farther, it would've been a good day. But Eden Falls were by far the biggest we saw. Not the tallest (only 35 feet), but definitely the highest volume. Of course, Mandi the Waterfall Lover was happy. The best, however, was yet to come.


At the top of Eden Falls sits Eden Falls Cave. After climbing the trail to the entrance, we set down our packs and hiking sticks, donned flashlights, and set off into the darkness. For once I was glad for the crowd. I think having other people in there with us helped calm any fears the kids might have had, and, naturally, it made it a lot easier to trace the route. Crawling on hands and knees through the darkness to the back of the 200 foot cave was messy, but fun. At the back end it opens into a large chamber with a small (20 foot?) waterfall coming out of the ceiling. Way cool!!!


One of the personal highlights for me was also one of the most unexpected. On our way into Eden Falls Cave we passed another family on their way out and I overheard the man mention to his wife that he'd lost his knife. It was just a casual remark, but for some reason it stuck with me. Then, on my way out, on my hands and knees, staring into the clear water of the creek only inches from my face, what do I spy in the feeble light of my headlamp? A knife, still in its sheath. So I grabbed it out of the water, tucked it into a pocket, and kept on crawling. Later, in the parking lot at the trailhead, I caught up to the man and wa able to give him back his knife. We were both surprised by the exchange. But Mandi admitted afterward that she'd prayed for it to happen. What a woman! ;-)

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. On ur way home we got to drive past a forest fire just outside Springdale, AR. It was dark enough that we could see the flames clearly along a .3-.4 mile stretch of US-71, and it was close enough that we could smell the smoke. How anything could burn with all the rain we've had lately, I'll never know. But it was a pretty good fire.

Why bother with prayer? ...a lament.

Why do we spend so much time praying with our lips and not our ears? Too often we speak to God of what we want and never stop to consider what He wants for us. We're too busy talking to God to listen to what He says. We fervently and passionately pour our hearts out to Him, petitioning as ardently as we know how, then we act on our desires, interpreting the momentary pause in our words, the silence between breaths, as His assent to do as we wish. Pathetic.

How often do we fail to truly listen for the leading of the Holy Spirit?

How often do we search His word for answers, seek wise counsel (wise here meaning more than just friends and roommates, but pastors and elders in the church)?

How often do we actually make Godly decisions instead of just good ones?

How often do we experience failure, moral and otherwise, for lack of patience? For lack of commitment to understanding God's heart in a matter, and not just our own?

How often do we regret following our hearts instead of His?

How often do we exchange the pleasures of the moment for the delights of heaven?

Too often to count.

Hi. I'm Broken, who are you?

Some people have never been broken. They have never come to grips with the ugly truth of their own inadequacy. I'm not sure I've ever been whole... I mean, sure, I play the game; I look whole. I look by all outward appearances as if I have it together, but that's not me. That's just the image of me. That's what I let you see. The facade.

The real me is a mess. The real me weeps at how pathetic I really am. Maybe that's why I cry at so many sappy movies. Because I long for something real. I want desperately for the image to be reality. Who knows. I'm not sure that even makes sense. What I do know is that despite the external appearance (and even that isn't exactly 'cool'), the internal me is insecure, afraid and passionately fearful that someone will discover how much I struggle with pride, lust and swearing, not to mention a host of other dearly held sins. The internal me is messed up. Broken. Alone.

I hate being alone, but I am. And I don't mean alone like by myself in my office, but alone like in a crowd where no one knows me. I am alone. It is the price I pay for acceptance. I have many acquaintances, a handful of friends and peers, but brothers who love me so deeply I can bare my soul? None. Men to whom I can trust my darkest secrets? My deepest fears? The stuff that might cost me my credibility, my job, my family? Where are they?

And the irony is that I believe I stand alone in a crowd of brothers. Each one struggling with the same sense of isolation and fear that I am. Incomplete. Hoping desperately to be discovered and paralyzed by mind-crushing fear of that same occassion. We are the Brotherhood of Broken Men. We need one another, but are too wary to trust one another. We stand shoulder to shoulder, forever touching, yet never speaking Eye to eye, we see, yet do not understand. Do not know beyond the image that is portrayed. We sin together, quietly keeping fellowship at bay with an easy smile and a firm handshake. Broken we stan united, and you'll never know it because we'll never show it. Maybe one day I'll have the courage to break loose, to let the brotherhood come to an end, and allow the Spirit of God to reign free in my life. But not today.

American Girl

So, Alyssa is really into American Girl dolls; a phenomenon which escapes the male mind, even the Daddy mind. But the company that makes these dolls has a contest to identify the "Real Girl of the Year," and in order to enter you have to have an adult sponsor you. Aly asked me. So below is the 499 word essay I wrote explaining why Alyssa Renae Smith is MY American Girl. And if the doll company has a brain in their corporate head, they'll see through my weak prose and recognize this amazing little girl for the treasure she is.

Last week my daughter tried out for an athletic team at our church only to find herself cut in favor of stronger and faster girls. Everyone knew that only a few would make the team, but Alyssa had been talking about it for weeks. She was eager to make the team. Unfortunately, it wasn't to be. At first I was worried, knowing how much it meant to her, but by the time we got home, she had calmed down and moved on to the next challenge of life. Instead of crying for hours, she chose to be happy for
her friends who had made the team. Win or lose, she is the embodiment of grace.

That is one reason why Alyssa Smith is an American Girl. She is intelligent and creative and vivacious. She is also an avid reader. Between art and dance classes she manages to play sports year-round, never quitting in spite of the fact that she is far from being a natural athlete. Whether it is gymnastics or cheerleading or soccer, she
is always active, always social. At eight years old, she hasn't learned yet how to discriminate; she loves everyone. Her passion is for art and for people, and she gives herself completely to whatever she is doing and whoever she is with.

And she cannot help but teach. She seizes every opportunity to lead the cheers for the squad, or teach whoever she's with some new craft she learned. At slumber parties she is the one who initiates and organizes activities. (Her favorite is to make improv plays for the adults to watch.) She just HAS to be in the middle of everything that's going on, not to be the star, but just to have fun with everyone.

Alyssa may one day assume the title as America's craftiest person. Her dedication to arts and crafts is matched only by her giftedness. Two years ago, she rearranged our curtains for us, something unexpected from a six year old, but guests still comment on them today. Likewise the oil painting she gave me this Christmas that hangs proudly in my office. And although not everything she does turns out perfectly (I've thrown away reams of doodles scratched out on whatever paper she can find), she never quits. My wife and I sometimes wonder if she will replace Martha Stewart on television one day!

One of the things I appreciate about Alydoodle, as a father, is that she is careful not to set other-worldly expectations. That is, she's good about setting "girl-sized" goals. Her focus is always on the present, on THIS game, THIS project, THIS effort. Her goals do not extend beyond the current season. She doesn't worry about things beyond her ability to control. Always she is concerned about the challenge of today. Rising to the occasion, rather than suffering anxiety over it.

I don't know who the "Real Girl of the Year" will be, but Alyssa Renae Smith deserves serious consideration. She is amazing.

Just when you thought...

So I'm coming home from the Parents' Night Out fundraiser tonight at 10:30 pm, and I almost hit a guy crossing against the light on 4th street. Nothing crazy about that, except he was on HORSEBACK! What an idiot. I assume he was drunk. Why else would you ride through downtown on horseback at 10:30 at night?

How long, oh Lord

How long, oh Lord, will you keep me in the Midwest?

That is the question that haunts my conscience every time I visit Oregon. I am a creation of the Northwest, of Oregon, and that is where I belong. I feel at times like an exile, like Ezekiel, a prophet of old, crying out in the wilderness. My heart yearns for tall mountains, clear streams and Douglas Fir. I miss pine trees and rain and moss. I miss home.

But Joplin is where You have called me, and I will not resist Your call. These are Your people too, and they need Your word, Your love, Your Son. I have taken a wife from the Midwest, whose heart is here, who's needs are my needs, and who's dreams are my dreams. And to her I will remain faithful. She is the love of my life, more beautiful than the Cascade mountains, more refreshing than the waterfalls that flow through the mountains of my home, steadier than the Ponderosa pines reaching for the sky in the forests of my true home. She is the love of my life, and to her I will remain faithful.

She is a child of the Midwest, to her family I will remain true.

You have blessed me to serve Your purposes in the Midwest, and I have seen Your mighty hand pouring out blessing around me. To You I will be faithful, oh Lord, for Your purposes are higher than mine, Your plan more perfect, Your desires more pure. To You, oh Lord, will I cling, in the wilderness of life.

How long, oh Lord, will you keep me in the Midwest?

Not so famous, not so last, words

As is sometimes the case with all men, my thoughts occassionally turn to my own mortality. Here is something I wrote on my iPhone on a recent trip to Oregon. Perhaps it was inspired by the turbulence of the flight, perhaps by a bad burrito, I don't know. Its not meant to be morbid, only a note the the future. I don't have a death wish, don't obsess over dying and do not, to my knowledge, have anything physically wrong with me. In fact, I'd like to live to be a hundred and twenty. I am, however, alert to the fact that such will not likely be the case, and as man knows not his time, here's a thought for those who follow, those I love...

Time comes for all men, and now it has come for me. Even as I pen these words I am cognizant of the fact that the Lord Most High has smiled on my life. If you are reading this after I have passed on, know that He smiles still.

I have done my best to life fully, abundantly, and though not perfect, it has been amazing. I have loved my family— Mandi, Alyssa, Nate, and Anna—with the hope that regardless of what their future holds, they will know that I am for them. I have all too often served myself and stand awestruck that God has allowed me the privilege of serving Him as He has. Like John Paul Jones, I regret that I have but one life to give.

What purpose my death may serve, God alone knows, but this one thing I know: God's purposes are always good, even when the frailty of human intellect fails to perceive them. May God bless and keep you as He has me, lo, these rich years of my life. Amen.

10 Things I Miss About Eugene, Oregon

This really isn't meant as a condemnation of Joplin, but there are certain aspects of any community that are special and unique. Having lived most of my life in Eugene, Oregon, I grew especially fond of the culture there in several respects. And, okay, so the list is actually eleven things, not ten. Hey, it could've been thirty!

• The geography, especially the mountains (Oregon is more geographically diverse than most of the country combined.)


• The climate (mild summers, mild winters, lots of rain and if you want cold, climb a mountain!)


• Friends


• Family


• Fishing (Oregon has everything the Midwest has, plus the ocean, trout, salmon, steelhead, etc.)


• The University of Oregon ( Yes, it's a bastion of immorality, anarchy, liberalism and neo-pagan crap, but I will bleed green and yellow 'til I die. GO DUCKS!)


• Track Town Pizza (Bloomington had a better culinary scene, but Track Town is awesome.)


• Seeing world class athletes jogging around town. (Eugene isn't "Track Town" for nothing.)


• The performing arts community (truly special)


• Public lands (camping, fishing, hunting, hiking, canoeing, skiing, etc., are all much easier to access and in prettier areas than Midwest states offer.)


• Flora and Fauna (biodiversity is not something you see in the Midwest, comparatively speaking. Just compare landscaping if you don't believe me.)
• Bike lanes

Million Dollar Ideas I won't pursue

Occassionally you come up with a million dollar idea. We all do. Much more rarely, you actually do something about it. Here are a couple that actually came from my genius wife...

1. Cherry flavored Niquil sno-cones. Parents drug their kids all the time. When one of our twins was having trouble sleeping at night our doctor actually TOLD us to use sudafed to know him out. This way you could do it without playing the dreaded 'medicine' card. Incidently, I personally think the same idea could be applied to Bon-Bons for adults.
2. A full-body glazer. While watching the doughnuts at Krispy Kreme go through the glaze bath Mandi realized that if you could do that to an actual person, husbands everywhere would be eternally grateful... (Hey, it was her idea! I just wanted a doughnut.)
3. Stimplants. This is basically a twist on the whole shock-collars-for-kids idea. If you're into Star Wars, think of the restraining bolts on droids. The idea is to implant a device under the skin that would enable parents at the touch of a button to give their kids a small jolt of electric discipline. I mean, we're almost at the point now where we're going to implant locator chips so they can't get abducted, so why not just add a little upgrade? (This last one is mine, not Mandi's.)

10 Things I miss about Bloomington, IN

This really isn't meant as a condemnation of Joplin, but there are certain aspects of any community that are special and unique. Having lived for three years in Bloomington, Indiana, we grew especially fond of the culture there in several respects. And, okay, so the list is actually eleven things, not ten. Hey, it could've been thirty!

• Division I sports
• Real soccer leagues (7 NCAA titles by Indiana University has made it a soccer-crazy town)
• The entire culinary scene (especially Opie Taylor's and Snow Lion, but this could be the entire list if you get right down to it. Restaurant Row? AMAZING!)
• Downtown Bloomington (Especially at Christmas when the lights are up)
• The Indiana Daily Student (featuring Get Fuzzy)
• Ice Cream Parlors (NO, Joplin does NOT have a single real ice cream parlor, and YES that includes Shake's and Braum's... okay, Shake's is borderline, but just barely)
• Brown County (It's not Oregon, but it sure beats SW Missouri for natural beauty)
• The friends we made who still live there
• Borders and Barnes and Noble (real bookstores)
• Seeing the Indianapolis Colts play every Sunday
• The performing arts community. (Much livelier than we have here in Joplin. The music school at IU alone is a hue difference. Imagine being able to hear world class musicians anytime you want for free... wouldn't that be nice? Well, in Bloomington that's just normal.)

Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving.

An orgy of football and family and food. Today, like most years, we celebrated at the home of Jay and Rex Ann Dareing (Mandi’s mom’s parents). Altogether there were forty-one of us there. Smiths and Trasks and Douthits and Dareings among several more. Forty-one. Everybody. At least, everybody on Mandi’s side of the family tree. Everybody within a hundred miles anyway. The youngest was… well, LeeAnn Wilson is still pregnant with that one. And the oldest would be Jay Dareing, nearly eighty. As usual, before we ate Jay addressed the family in the kitchen, then called upon me to ask the blessing. There are two deacons, a pastor and a director of missions—all ordained—in the family, and every man there has been a Christian for years, and yet it seems like I am always the one who says the blessing. I mean, I’m sure it’s just a misperception on my part, but I’m telling you, Jay calls on me more than any three others put together. Why?! Not that I mind, I just feel a little odd being singled out all the time from among so many who are at least equally qualified. Isn’t it amazing how significant a little thing like a dinner prayer can seem?

After gorging on turkey, ham, mashed potatoes with gravy, cranberry jelly, homemade rolls, green beans, corn, sweet potatoes, deviled eggs, etc., etc., etc., I was too full to head to the dessert table, choosing instead to veg-out on the couch while I tried not to explode. Note to self: sweats were a good choice. The elastic waist band really helps when you’ve chosen gluttony over common sense. Anyway, sans dessert, I cleaned two plates of food and spent the next four hours on the couch watching football. Dallas beat the Jets, and Green Bay beat the Lions. The Colts won today as well, but that one was on the NFL Network, which no one I know has in their cable package. I guess it only comes with the premium premium package. Numbskulls. I wish they’d just drop it completely and leave Thanksgiving to Dallas and Detroit.

ANYWAY…

The kids had a good time. Nate had a great time wrestling with the other boys (Isaac and Kyle). He said its funner than wrestling Daddy because they’re the same size he is. Honestly, I’m not sure what the girls did, they stayed in the kitchen most of the time.

We went home early. Before dinner. Mandi and I are recovering from colds and Alyssa and Anna are just coming down with it. All in all it was a great day. Tomorrow, we shop. Not sure how I feel about that yet. Thanks, God, for giving our family such a wonderful experience… again.