New Years Revolution...

 

                      It's been a great year, although reasonably uneventful...

                           That is not a bad thing. I consider it a positive, in fact.

                   So New Years Eve beckons the age old questions about the future.

                                    What would I like to do different, this year?

                                         What would I like to change?

                         

                                 The short answer, for me is " not a whole lot".

                          

             That is kind of a slap in the face to the whole " New Years Resolution" sentiment...

                  

                                            I'm not going to focus on changes. 

                     Change comes from the heart and God holds mine in His hand. If I remain open and teachable, His work will happen, in His perfect timing...

                  That does not remove any responsibility or accountability from my shoulders, it just clarifies the perspectives, a little bit...

                                             So I do not resolve to change anything.

                               What I do " resolve" to do, is to try my best to do some of the things I already do, just a little bit better...

                              Like to take an extra breath before speaking to my grumbling, hormonal son...

                      To remember patience and understanding are needed far more than frustration and anger; that he is perplexed more by his own behaviors and attitudes than I will ever be...

                                                   Let me start with that one...

                        To think the best of the people in my life when situations imply in my little mind, that they purposely chose to offend me...

                               Almost never, is that the case. My thin skin and insecurities always lead my thinking askew, into the inevitable and unenviable lands of apology and regret...

                        To remember almost nothing done in this life is as personal as I tend to take things...

                               And if by some miracle, it actually is, then that's ok, too..

                                    We are all Gods children. We all make mistakes.

                           Maybe to notice more those who are struggling under their own weights, those who overload themselves with tasks that are numbingly overwhelming...

                                         To offer help to the ones who will not ask...

                                    I certainly could stand to do that, a little more often...

                             To Pray first, instead of judging first...to practice love instead of resentment...

                   Improvement in all these areas trumps anything else I can come up with to " change"..

                                Maybe, for one year, this is a difficult enough list...

                                        To be better. Not to earn Grace or favor; not in any attempt to " trick" God into believing I'm " good enough"...

                                    He knows I'm not. He holds my heart and knows the full content of my soul; every inadequacy and imperfection and selfish thought...

                    But to be better, to try to do better, because it is simply what I'm supposed to do...

                                          Love more. Judge less. Forgive often...

                                               Simple is almost never easy.

            Usually, the level of difficulty of any task is directly proportional to its level of simplicity... 

                                                 

                                                And love is the simplest task of all...

2014...

                           For years we swore to each other that we would get no pets...

                              I myself, have always been more of a cat person. 

                   Simple, reasonably self sustaining and clean. No slobber, no stepping in dog turds when mowing the lawn and none of that sappy unconditional love that makes people like me feel extremely uncomfortable...

                  Cats on the other hand, have an innate sixth sense that tells them moments before you REALLY have to go the bathroom. They will run from three rooms away at that time, to leap into your lap, circle exactly two and a half times, then melt into a furry semi circle, fully asleep in seconds...

                   If you move them, they spurn you for weeks or until the next time your bladder expands, sitting in a recliner...

                         So we used the fact that my father, who lives with us, is allergic for the excuse de- jour about pets for years. They love their grandpa, so no one complained...

                                   Sad, yes.

                                    Dejected, assuredly...

                                      Accepting... reasonably so...

                        But as children grow, a disturbing side affect takes place.

                                    They get smarter...

                             I don't know who to blame for this troubling predicament, but I don't think I can reasonably accuse this one at common core...

                                 Somewhere my children learned that lizards harbor no allergens...

                                      So now we spend at least one trip a week to purchase twelve dozen crickets that our pet lizard can feast upon, throughout the week.

                                       At least he doesn't poop in the yard...

                            I bring up our lizard, a bearded dragon, for those who don't know, because for the last month or two, he has been shedding.

                             Bits and pieces that sometimes drop like dandruff and other times curl off him in long and wide sections of lizard skin like jerky... 

                                

                            I used to love arguing politics. Parties, weddings, funerals...

              It didn't matter. I guess I've always been a tad bit lacking in the social graces...

                           Something changed inside awhile back.

                                    It just stopped being fun...

                               My heart started seeing things as simply right or wrong and I realized also that arguments over right and wrong accomplish nothing....

                                           These are the issues of the heart and the heart can never be changed by linguistic acrobatics...

                                               It can only be changed by love...

                   There was a time, not so long ago, that I really enjoyed debating religion...

                                   But religion is only politics masquerading as morality...

                                And more often than not, has no more resemblance to the love of God than the politics, itself...

                              With my two favorite past times seemingly removed, I found myself at a definate loss. 

                                                         And much, much quieter...

                                 I spent decades of my life hating myself for a circumstance I thought I caused.

        A situation I could not forgive myself for or allow to be forgiven...

                    I tried letting Jesus take it, but always pulled it back, always retrieved it for my very own..

                                And own me, it did. Separating me from other Christians, from the depth of fellowship they all shared, because if they knew what I carried, even that I still carried something...something that I could not leave in the trust of Jesus... then really, what kind of Christian could I truly be...

                                                 What kind of Christian was I ?

                                So recently it was brought to my attention that what I harbored within myself and hated, never really transpired...

                                  A lie I naively bought, hook, line and sinker...

                                    Freed by God, from something that never really happened...

                                            These changes in who I am and who and what I thought I was, all happened in the past year.

                                                   I have no clue why...

                               This process of " shedding" is certainly as uncomfortable for me as it is for any reptile. With it, I have the cognizance to ask the "whys".

                                                          The "why nows"..

                                         Why clean a vessel so tattered and torn?

                                     What possible purpose could be planned in this?

                                                    I have absolutely no clue...

                                                              Seriously.

                                        I do know that the purpose of a vessel is to carry something of value to some other person or some other place. To sacrificialy protect its given contents...

                            To keep it safe and not allow it to be diluted or contaminated...

                                  Now I have nothing inside of me like that. I do have Jesus, but most all of us share that attribute. I am no different than any of you...

                                                    Maybe that's the point.

                       Maybe, as these things are removed, piece by piece, the purpose is to eventually separate me from that chair in the back...

                                   Like I said, I have absolutely no clue...

                          So these are some of the changes from 2014, in my life...

                             Quite a freaky and blessed year...

                                     

                                   

                          

                    

A miracle on Poplar Street....

                                     We swapped things around a little this year...

                   Usually we head over the mountain and through the woods to my Moms house earlier, on Christmas Eve afternoon. 

                     This year, the plan was to hit the 5:00 service at Church, then go to my mothers for dinner, presents and to celebrate all that transpired over 2000 years ago...

                 I've shared a couple times here about my mothers failing health. She has a constant and worsening struggle with fairly advanced COPD...

             It's been difficult watching probably the strongest woman and most " can do" person I've ever met, reduced physically to needing a breathing treatment between the trip from her kitchen chair to the couch in her adjoining living room..

                       I'm still struggling with staying " philosophicle" about that...

                            But this woman absolutely adores her grand kids. 

                                                           Belay that...

                                             She has a love for them that is bigger than I've seen in her life for anything or anyone else... Probably the closest second to that would be for my Wonderful Wife, who bore the three of them, for her...

                                 I'm thinking that's exactly how my mom would probably put it...

                               

                                 So, this woman who can barely navigate her trailer on bad days, spent months cutting patterns and sewing her special handmade pajamas for all three of my bubbers...

          She doesn't drive often because the trip to and from her vehicle is much longer than the one between kitchen and living room. Most of the time, her brother does her grocery shopping for her.

                           But... She braved that trip a couple times, oxygen tank and all, in the last months, along with a few Wal- Mart walk throughs, to find the presents to completely blow away any semblance of sanity, perspective or rationality about gift giving, for her grandchildren...

                               Now MaryAnne and i have been stressing minimizing gifts and presents on Jesus's birthday, lately...

                    Quite strongly, in fact. For years we had the children give grandma a SMALL list, after we edited it, after we instilled some semblance of balance and scale...

                                                          Not this year. 

                                                                Nope...

                                                     I should have known...

                                                 To be truthful, I think I did...

                                             We walked into baked lasagna, baked ham and all the fixings; sliced veggies, chips and assorted dips. Home made chocolate cake, ice cream and jello...

                                On her average days, lately, ordering a pizza had been a struggle....

                                    Her Christmas tree was up, lights on and decorated. More packages than I've seen in one place in a lifetime,  were piled throughout the living room.

                                        

       As food was being plated, I began to say a prayer of thanks, for Jesus, for family, for love...

                                       And she stopped me before five words were said.

                                  

                              My mother then raised her voice in praise of God and thanked Him for the strength He had given her, to have this day..

                                        She praised God for the gift of family, for the love of family...

                                               For the time granted with them...

                                                  

                                             I do not recall ever in the past, hearing my mom pray.

                            

                                          Shes not one to put her spiritual beliefs on her sleeve..

                                                   

                                                   My jaw dropped, as did my Wonderful Wife's..

                                                    The kids just smiled, happily, awaiting dinner.

                                              But the dad...this dad... A lump developed in my throat and a strange mixture of astonishment, thankfulness, blessing and fear overwhelmed me...

                  Since I was wearing dress shoes ( the only non-steel toe shoes i own), I was able to step on my own foot, while everyone else was distracted...

                   Hard enough to curtail all my emotional confusion with actual physical pain...

                         

                                          Short story long, it was an incredible night..

                                      The children no longer ooo and ahh over Christmas lights.

                                              None of them "believe" anymore about elves or cookies for Santa or reindeers... And I do miss the Santa cookies...

                                      But between my mom and the God she glorified...

                                              True Christmas magic happened..

                                         I'm not one for over the top materialistic displays, but thankfully, that evening, I was able to see beyond apearances...

                                         The grandeur in the trailer that night had nothing to do with the abundances of physical things, I realized. 

                         This is probably the last time my mom will ever be able to do this, ever...

                             The COPD is progressing faster than I want to acknowledge.

                                I hope there are many more years left of Christmas's with grandma, but I am doubting she will ever be able to manage anything like she has, in those years coming...

                    I think that the strongest woman I know may have realized this herself...

                      Acknowledged it and asked her God for the opprotunity to create one last amazing Christmas...

                     As Jesus turned water into wine, He also put His hand into creating this...

                                                   

                                                        Merry Christmas.

                                 

Brothers...

                                  Got hijacked at about two in the afternoon, today...

                      Actually it started at 9:00 am. My dad was up all night and wanted me to bring him to the doctors office. So too urgent care we would go...

                    Turns out he needed a catheter.. I know. Gross...

                            My Wonderful Wife took the three Bubs to Church service and I missed it.

              Didn't even get to watch Charles Stanley before I left...

                        When I returned and finished my coffee, the two youngest started asking if I would bring all three of them up to The Victory Mills Monument. Their mom brought the trio sledding there the day before and the snow was slowly beginning to melt. Unfortunately, I was busy cooking an unmentioned mystery meat....

                                         I told them I'd let them know...

                                       Remembering last year, I realized that they really didn't get the chance to sled much. Guilt began rising inside of me... It wouldn't take a whole lot of effort, on my part...

                                                     How could I say no?!?

                                   Actual hoots and hollers followed the announcement... I was proclaimed the best dad ever...

                                             They really wanted to go, it seems...

                                        Off we went on a 1/4 mile car ride, three kids, three sleds and one foam cushion to keep my tooshie from freezing, during the wait.

                            They ran up the hill and around the monuments perimeter. There were two little girls and a twenty- something daddy, taking turns going down the hill.

                       The three McMonkeys yelled and screamed and began diving onto their sleds from the

third monument step...

                                  I set my tooshie warmer on the iced granite slab and sat back watching...

                                     Usually being a dad is a mismatch of referee, wardrobe attendant and safety officer. Someone always needs gloves fastened and tucked under the cuffs. Someone usually is thumping another multiple times, on the noggin, with a sled. Someone seems to get an idea, every single time, to dive off the three foot granite slab, onto the sled, firmly resting on an ice packed snow trail...

               And sometimes that CPR class I took at work seems like it might be a worthwhile investment of time...

                        So I watched these three children of mine laughing and joking; they used their amplified outside voices for the entire duration of our stay...

               Soon the young girls and twenty something dad disappeared and were replaced by five kids my middle boys age. They said " hi" and my boys kept sledding together like long lost buddies...

                    I watched them together as they played together and my heart warmed.

                                 They were acting like brothers....

                  Not the nagging, arguing, fighting and frustrated ones that they often are...

                    Not the sullen, quiet screen staring children, hunkered over LED lit screens, thumbs a blazing....

                          Not the nipping little shadow monkeys that lean over each other shoulders, doing all they can to aggravate and harass their brethren....

                               I mean the kind of brothers that are enjoying each others company, actually preferring it... The kind that demonstrate an invisible bond and have been reading each others non verbal shorthand without effort...

                           The kind that instinctively watch out for each other. The ones who conference the plans they are making, plans that include them all. Give and take...

                                  I worried sometimes, that this part of their relationship might never develop. I know it took a long time between my brothers and I...

                                         Maybe that is one of those deeper dad worries, that never coherently surfaces in our daily monologues...

                               Secretly, I think we all want to know that if something happens to us, that our sons will be able to rely on each other; take care of each other, be loyal too and prefer each other over schoolmates and friends, when chips are down...

    It is a nearly impossible trait to teach. It must be individually developed, throughout years of tight quarter tolerances and petty annoyances...

                  There are no guarantees, only quiet hopes, mostly, unspoken..

                         And they spent the entire two and a half ours getting along like this. Even when I gave a twenty minute warning, they stayed together, rushing down the hill, sleds together...

                           My heart was happy. I tugged my ski cap back down over my ears, rubbed my gloved hands together and wrapped my arms across my chest. The cold had begun reaching my core enough to give a noticeable chill, but that was ok...

                                            I wanted to watch this...

                        We went home a little while later too three hot cocoas and one hot tea, water heated and mugs and packets prepped by my Wonderful Wife.

                            I headed straight for an afghan and the couch. A few minutes later I ran upstairs, tossed on my long, thick terry cloth bathrobe and then rushed back down to the couch and abandoned afghan...

                                                     I must be getting old...

                                    It struck me that maybe God sits back and waits to watch the exact same occurrence between His children. That maybe He spends just as much time and concern wanting to observe all of us, acting like that...

                        That maybe His heart sinks, just a little bit, when we fail in this little task...

                            But God does have the benifit of not being encumbered by obstacles like space and time... He has no need to worry...

               But for us dads, it will always be a bit more uncertain. We will always worry because we love our children, and like it or not, worry tends to fit into even a faithful Christian dads job description...

               We try to limit it but know that in many moments, that will be little use...

                  And when it owns us enough, eventually, we will gracelessly attempt to turn it over.

                    We will struggle more and when all our earthly resources are completely depleted, we gratefully hand over the control we never had... To Him, who had it all along...

                            It is the season of peace on earth and brotherhood of men...

                                 But there are many other, less pleasant seasons transpiring, at this moment..

                                     Not so hopeful, not so peaceful...

                                         I'm not sure about those seasons. They are Gods seasons, to direct...

                                         All I know is that on a cold and wind whipped hill, I watched a fraction in time of what is possible between all men. Most of my body froze, but my heart was warmed, as I observed it...

                                              My tooshie stayed warm, too...

                               

Three gifts...

                                    My Wonderful Wife and I did some high intensity interval shopping yesterday and were able to get the majority of our Christmas shopping done for the three McMonkeys...

         Sounds more impressive than it is. All we needed to purchase was a half dozen bananas....

                                                                   Two each...

                                               That cut the holiday budget way down...

                                           Actually, this year has been kind of nice. No giant high price " things" on any of their lists. Nick didn't even make a list. Jake, our nine year old still says he wants whatever is on all the commercials , but funny thing is, his heart doesn't seem to be in it...

                                      We've been speaking more often, in the last few years about smaller Christmas's. Three presents apiece was the Wonderful Wife's suggestion. The wisdom in it was that since Jesus Himself only received three gifts, that that should be enough for anyone else...

                                                But we never held too closely to that one...

                                                   That idea got me thinking... 

                                                         Me and my brain...

                          So I started looking into what the Bible says about giving on Christmas...

                                 Were we doing it right? We hear so much about how commercialism has hijacked the spirit of Christmas in our communities. It is so hard to try to keep the Christmas spirit and the true spirit of Christmas giving in today's world. I realized, though that I had no actual idea exactly what that was...

                                                          So, I hit "The Book"...

                                      Truthfully it was "The Book" on my 1st generation IPad.

                                                  Hope that's not cheating...

                                           And the only situations that I came across about gift giving on that first Christmas had to do with Gods gift to us in Jesus and the gifts brought by the three wise men...

                                              I could not find an instance of the shepherds, Mary or Joseph exchanging presents. Nothing written about those in the inn or even the wisemen trading gifts between each other....

                                                       Now that is confusing...

                                                 And again, I started thinking...

                                         If this whole season of Christmas has absolutely nothing to do with an exchange of gifts, what was it? I know it is a celebration of our Saviors birth and everything He would subsequently do. I know that we celebrate that gift...

                                I looked closer and came to the conclusion in my little mind, that maybe it is deeper than those three physical gifts that the wisemen brought of gold, frankinsence and myrrh ...

                                  I thought of what it took for those three to end up at the stable of Christ's birth.

                                        How much Faith it must have taken to decide to leave the comfort of their own lands, in anticipation of a long and weary journey that most in their world would have scoffed at.

                                       How difficult it must have been to choose obedience and prepare for that journey. It would not be easy or comfortable or short. They took the action required and went, with no earthly guarantee that it would accomplish anything... Faith and Obedience...

                              They did bring physical gifts to honor this newborn King.

                     Not something you could get at Walmart, but treasures. All three gave Sacrificially...

                                   And in looking at this I realized that most everything I thought for a very long time was wrong...

                                 The only Gifts recorded that men gave were not to each other...

                                     They were given, in honor, to a newborn King...

             And the true gifts were not the physical articles, but were the gifts Jesus still desires from us.

                                                                Strong Faith...

                                                       Unhesitating Obedience...

                                                            Sacraficial Giving...

                                                                     

                              I don't think any of that happens under a Christmas tree. 

                                 

                          I'm not a Bible scholar or even a decent student of It, so don't take any of this on face value. Open up your own copy of " The Book" and check for yourselves...

                                    I do know that today I'm looking at things a little bit differently.

                                           Our tree still stands tall and beautiful. The gifts we will be exchanging are still upstairs in our bedroom, waiting for the inevitable wrapping. I am happily looking forward to the traditional opening of presents Christmas morning...

                      And I personally believe that Jesus still smiles down on us, a bit, as we celebrate his birth.

                                     But I don't think anymore, that this type of celebration is the kind that He requires..

                                       I'm thinking that it is a nice family or social tradition, but absent of the important values that those three wisemen demonstrated...

                                            Not quite sure how I'm going to reconcile all this...

                                   Truth be told, I probably won't. The odds are that I will spend a lot of time pondering all this and saying a few prayers. I will bumble it all thru my little brain and try to keep an open heart... Open enough to listen for a still, small voice...

                If anything ever does get reconciled, it will have nothing to do with my efforts...

                                                 Maybe today all that I'm really supposed to do is realize that what I am offering is not what my Savior desires... That maybe the point of this journey of my mind, is to acknowledge the measuring stick, the benchmark, that was demonstrated by three men, two thousand years ago..

                                                                 Strong Faith...

                                                         Unhesitating Obedience...

                                                               Sacraficial Giving...

                                      

                 And maybe, be willing to let Him work inside me to strengthen those values, inside me..

                    And then be willing to demonstrate them, by action, as they are given...

What I missed most...

                                         This will be a short little ditty...

                       My Wonderful Wife took a weekend getaway with friends, very well deserved, I might add...

                        Of the few times she has been missing from our home, I find that I'm never surprised at what I miss, in her absence...

            Not the cooking or cleaning, the laundry or dishes. I appreciate beyond belief all those parts also, but the other parts, those...those extra things that also are such an integral part of her personality...

                              What I missed were the things like sitting across from her and hearing her passionately describe her day or in a few cases, her week ends..

               I lean forward and watch her eyes, excited like a child and listen intently to her speech that is so animated, like a twelve year old describing a week and a half at Disneyland...

         Sometimes she barely stops for a breath... I love that about her.

        Not only about trips, but workouts and runs, Church meetings and school functions..

               I miss watching her following her unique patterns that I have grown to memorize and love, by heart... I miss seeing her scamp thru the house in her work out clothes, heading for the gym, the smile and contentment on her face as she comes thru the door, after coffee or lunch with her friends...

            How she always comes into the room before she leaves for anywhere, to kiss me goodbye and say that she loves me...

              How right after she unloads whatever she carries into the house with her, she comes straight to where I'm at and kisses me hello..

              How she walks thru our floors with a lizard on her shoulder, just like she did with each of our children..

                                      Once a mom, always a mom...

                         I miss waking up and reaching to her side of the bed and knowing she just went downstairs to the couch for a few hours sleep by escaping my snoring...

                  I miss making the bed in the morning and going back upstairs half an hour later to see it just a little more smoothly and neatly made than when I left it..

                 All the little idiocincricies that make up this amazing woman that no one else here seems to miss. They all have their own list though, each of my children, of the little things she does or a way that she laughs with them or hugs them... When she is gone, what is here is an absence...

                  But that's not completely true. What is left is a million things that we remember and love.

                       She is here when she is gone. Not in her being or doing, but in our hearts and souls.

                          But mostly I miss her because she is my best friend. She gets the unspoken jokes and sees beyond the bravado, inside a heart she has memorized as well as I have memorized hers.

                      I guess what I'm saying is I have no understanding of the husbands who enjoy the absence of their bride, when away...

                   Maybe we haven't been married that long.

                        I don't know.. I'm just glad she's home and I was able to watch the excitement in her eyes and hear the non stop passion in her words, and after setting down her travel bags, that she  headed straight to me and gave me a kiss...

Deja vu, tempered with time...

                          About twenty years ago, while living in Bennington Vermont, I had an interesting experience. I was five or six years sober and a good friend ( Who was a very nice and an extremely pretty lady) had a sponsee that was in desperate need of a place to stay. We were friends already and although she only had a few months of sobriety, I offered my futon in my living room... 

            Situations like this are generally talked thru with a sponsor,  but I always liked to make decisions first, then get advice, after the fact. It was never the wisest course of action, but it did always bring excitement...

         It didn't help that I found this woman very attractive and that we had quite a few deep and emotional conversations in the past couple of weeks. I convinced myself ( sort off) that my intentions were honorable. She had no other place to go and I had room...

                                      Really, what could go wrong?!?

                             So, after she began moving in, I spoke about this with my sponsor.

         The look he gave me was one we both were used to. Half quizzical, with touches of anger and lunacy thrown in, for good measure...

                   He began speaking of complications involved, tossing in large chunks of ignored common sense that he believed I seriously should have considered first...

                      How would I deal with boundaries, both physical and emotional, on both her and my sides?!?  Men are not suggested to be in direct emotional/ physical relationships with women, in the rooms of AA , especially men with years of sobriety dealing with a woman with less months than i had years...

         I told him I had it all figured out. Under control. I was different and my motives were pure...

                 He actually laughed out loud. " Figured out? Under control? O.K. One last and very simple question.."

                                           I listened, confident in my infallibility.

                                       " Have you told your girlfriend, Sheila, yet?!?"

                              I sensed my infalitability balloon developing a slight leak...

                  Slight? A tiny bit of panic started and I attempted a stuttered reply. It was my sponsors turn  to laugh...

                       " There will be a LOT of growth opprotunities in this situation for you" he chuckled...

                                              "Uh huh" I blankly replied...

                   So I went to my girlfriends apartment.. Perhaps some backstory would be relevant...

                         Sheila was kind of an emotional firecracker. She was a few years sober and had severe co- dependency issues. A six foot tall, 185 lbs redhead with anger issues...

          ... That I had to tell that I just moved into my apartment, platonically of course, one of the prettier women in the rooms of AA...

           I conceded to her that I probably hadn't thought it out all that well...

                      

                The conversation did not go well, either. I still had a girlfriend when I left her apartment, but we both were pretty freaked out ... I did not feel very comfortable going back to my apartment that night..

                      So rumors went thru the rooms of AA and gossip created opposing sides.

             AA was not comfortable and did not feel welcoming...

              Sheila's apartment was not very cozy anymore..

                  And my apartment ? This is where it gets a little bit interesting...

                         I came home from work and found both of these women sitting at my kitchen table, one drinking coffee and the other, tea.

             It seems they had been hanging out all day, shopping, lunch and of course, coffee and tea.

                       At my apartment...

                           No warm and fuzzies in my belly... Not by a long shot...

             My own home was the most uncomfortable place of all..

                     It really did not end nearly as bad as it could have. We all took turns being nuts, we all stayed sober and nothing happened with me and my " roommate".

                      I did wind up loosing the girlfriend...

                    But that had crash and burn written all over it, long before this, any way...

                        

                              So why do I bring up the ancient past???

                                

                                About two years ago my Wonderful Wife was on Facebook, messaging back and forth with one of her good friends. She mentioned something and a little tiny set of gears in my head instantly meshed. Uncomfortably, I asked her to ask her friend where she'd grown up. Then I asked her if she was related to a family in that area...

                                         Yep. It was her maiden name...

                                         It turns out that my Wonderful Wife had struck up a close friendship with an ex girlfriend of mine, from my wild and crazy drinking days...

                             She had eventually recognized my Wonderful Wife's married name and put two and two together...Not that it mattered. They had a lot in common and got along great by then...

                          Of course, my Wonderful Wife had no idea... 

                   So the two of us shared stories with my wife MaryAnne, about some of the old days, and My Wonderful Wife acted as a go between...

                              I was kind of amused, but had lost a few of the warm and fuzzies in my now rotund belly..

                          I came to grips with it pretty quickly. This ex was very cool. I always had good thoughts of her whenever I looked back to those days. A very good person who never made me feel bad because I drank too much, never judged me or tried to stop my path. I always had felt accepted by her.

          When you were someone like me, back then, that was a rarity...

                                         Not sure how it all ended, still. Some questions don't neccasarily beg for answers... 

                      My brain has " artifacts", the doctors say. Much of my long term memory is either completely gone or extremely foggy; kind of like coming too and hearing things you've done described by those there at the time and seeing small pieces in your mind...

     Too much booze and drugs, too many industrial chemicals and kicks to the head to hope for any sustained levels of past coherency...

               My brother remembers everything from back then. But then again, he was a little more recreational in his drinking. Me, I took it a bit more seriously...

                                          Now comes the funny part...

                           It seems the love of my life and this particular ex share a passion for Zombies..

                    Enough so that they thought it would be a great idea to go to a convention center together for the weekend... 

                          My Wonderful Wife has never seen me drunk. Until recently, this ex had never seen me sober... There are a few questions I might like answered about those days myself, still, believe it or not...    

                                  I'm sure the Wonderful Wife will get them first..

                        So what could I say when The Wonderful Wife brought up this trip?

                                                      I had to laugh...

                               It seems my life has a magnetic pull for interesting situations.

                                          Deja vu, tempered with time...

                                        

From early December..

             It was a lazy day at the old homestead today. My Wonderful Wife had a meeting after Church and I have not been the pinnacle of health in recent weeks...

            Nothing serious, just the regular tag team of the creepy crud and lungs that don't like cold air unless there's salt in it..

            Guess what I'm trying to say is that I stayed in bed untill 9:45 a.m. yesterday to recuperate a bit and rolled out this morning with my sinus stuffed tighter than last weeks turkey.

           A Charles Stanley double sermon, one recent and one from 1992 took the place of Church attendance today. It also is the day we usually bring our McMonkeys to visit my mom, but with her susceptibility to respiratory infections, we skipped that too

                 So the " no video game " on Sundays rule was lifted and I sat around unshowered, in my jammies. Netflix had the movie " Phenomenon" on, and being one of my favorites, I commandeered the remote, sat back and watched it.

                  For the last week I've wanted to write about some of the recent events from the evening news. Words flooded my little thinker inside my skull for many days in a row and eventually, they escaped as quickly as they forced there way in...

                       I guess what is left are shadows of emotions.

                         I don't like talking about emotions, much but I suppose emotional shadows are safe enough...

                         I am sad about things that transpired. I'm sickened by unfairness and legalism.

                        It seems there are situations that are nearly identical, but completely different, that seem to be dividing our country in one hand, while unifying many in the other...

               I'm talking about the differences between Fergusson and New York City...

                                   Micheal Brown and Eric Garner...

                       Self defense and brutality and manslaughter...

                                    I saw the video from New York. I saw a man stepping backwards, threatening no one. This was not Rodney King, mind you. In fact, it was nothing like it.

                    He did not run. He did not attempt to strike anyone. All he did was step backwards with hands in the air...

                   I'm not saying that he did not deserve to be arrested, because he did.

                  I'm not saying the police didn't have a duty to apprehend him, because they did..

                      I am saying that they did not need to attempt it the way they did...

                          In that video, I saw a man pleading with his last breaths that he could hardly breathe, surrounded by professionals who are all required to be first aid and CPR qualified, all trained to save lives by recognizing breathing obstructions and treating symptoms that follow...

                                               I have had that training, too...

                               I live in whitebread upstate N.Y. and generally in this locale the police are given benifit of the doubt in almost all circumstances regarding self defense...

                                 But I am not the only one who saw that video. Almost exclusively, the people who actually watched it agreed this man was not threatening anyone. He may not have been completely submissive, but it is an insane stretch to conclude he was trying to hurt any officer present...

                       Some of the few people I know who defended the tactics used by the police on that video would be the first to argue or ask questions, if told they were being arrested.

          They would not have been choked, though...They could step back and ask questions without any real fear of immediate attack. This is upstate and they are clean cut and white.

                We have a little more leeway here, especially if your an educated professional and white.

                            Or just white...

                                       

Every mans battle...

                       I tried to watch a Charlie Brown special a few nights ago, with my boys. Moments into commercial, comes a trio of Victoria Secerets angels, prancing erotically across the screen. They were wearing less than some of the Playboy covers that are covered up in the Stewarts shops down the street...

                 My boys are twelve, eleven and nine years old, in chronological fashion.

                                                   Technically, still children...

                                    They covered their eyes with afghans, just like they do when they see that creepy Maybeline commercial, the one with the bright red lips, that even to me, looks a little bit scary...

                               In moments like these, I am amazingly proud of my three sons.

                         They exist in a world that seeks to sensualize and quietly attempts to traumatize their inborn sense of decency and modesty at almost every turn...

                        I remember the movie " The Deep" from 1977. I was twelve years old when it came out. Someone got a VHS copy of it after about a year. Back then, a woman in a blurred wet T shirt was about all the sex education you could get...

                     Of course their were Playboy magazines, but none of us stopped to read the articles.

    We all believed that women had staples in the center of their bellies...

          So I grew up exposed gradually to porn, little by little. Back then, no one saw it as a big deal, I guess.

                      At least not most of the people that I drank with...

                                So I grew up seeing and doing many things entirely too early. At the time I thought it showed maturity. It would not be the first or last time I had wrong judgements, growing up...

                      As a Christian man, I still struggle with purity of the eye. This is not a popular topic in Church circles and often is left to men's groups or meetings with trusted male friends. We tend to hide it in terms like " unspoken concerns" and never really bring it out into the sunlight. The sad thing is, this is not a unique struggle. I have a book that was given to me a long time ago, by my Wonderful Wife. We had talked about this issue between us, at times and even with one of our trusted Pastors. The title of the book is " Every mans battle"...

                            Every mans battle... No truer words have ever been spoken...

                               I have talked with many men regarding this issue. Guys at work, guys in Church, Pastors and elders in many different denominations...

                            After all those discussions I can confidentially assure you that not once have I met a man that did not, at one time or another, struggle with purity of the eye...

                           I'm not talking necessarily about straight out porn. Sometimes it's a commercial or ad in a magazine, that snaps a picture in a mans mind. A trip to the beach or a trip to the supermarket, where a well endowed woman in a low cut blouse bends down to pick up a can from the bottom of her cart...

       I guess  I am talking about lust. Insidious, in it's approach, often disguised, and in its camaflouge, nearly impossible to battle.

                We try not to look, or try to try not to look...

                   The point is for every few success's encountered, there are a few failures, also...

                      Some had faced it early and created defenses against it by surrounding themselves with Biblical principals, accountability partners and requests to be confronted, if they appear to stray in a lustful direction.

         But there are no absolute protections, in the end, against free will...

         God can and will protect us from succumbing to temptation, but He will not always remove the temptation... And as long as mankind has both free will and temptation? 

                        Eventually, every man will give in to temptation...

                          At best, we confess our sins and try to shore up all our built defenses, and start over again, once more a new and clean creature, in Gods eyes...

                                             

                                  So why do I bring this up?!?

         What good will it do, to paint men with such a large and unflattering brush?

                                        I guess it is for a couple of reasons.

                                                 To be exact, three...

                             

                             I have three young boys that want to be better than that....

                                Inside their hearts they know that these things the world tosses before them are not prizes, but traps...

           But their hearts are encased in pre and actual pubescent bodies that can't deflect the onslaught of all this sexual marketing without some kind of defense..

        All three have accepted Jesus and have learned the differences between right and wrong and have read about not caving into temptation.

                    They are getting older and probably have been inadvertently exposed to more crap on their buses and school hallways, than I really want to comprehend, right now...

                              

                                                        I want to protect them.

                         I want to build a bubble and a wall and a cage that will keep them safe from the pollution this world has put a billboard, commercial or mouse click away...

                                As a father, I'm somewhat terrified about the prospect of trying to help my growing young men build structures into their lives to reduce temptation and encourage purity of eye and honesty.

                         I have been battling lust since the moment I was saved, it seems. Some years were absolute failures, but many have had marked success's..

                        I do know that foundations built well and early will make for much less struggle and much more success, for them...

             I did not plan on preparing them as early as this...

              But they are in the process of becoming young men.

                 And soon they will be fighting every mans battle...

                           

                         

Inside out and backwards...

                 A few mornings ago, I was standing in front of our kitchen stove making assorted breakfasts for my Wonderful Wife and three hungry McMonkeys. I had been up a couple of hours already, and had watched early morning TV shows with them, not thinking much about anything...

                  As I turned with an omelette filled plate toward the island in our kitchen that two of the boys were sitting at, my middle Bub started laughing and pointing at my shorts. It seems that when I awoke the night before, plagued with cement filled sinuses, I had dressed a little too quickly, without the benifit of light. I stumbled into the bathroom and finished the last dose of NyQuil,and groggily went down the fifteen steps to our living room.

                 Resting in the recliner and covered in a blanket, I coughed and snorted, doing my best to clear a minimal passage way for breath, and to bumble off to sleep...

                  It seems in my sickened and dozey state, that I had put my shorts on inside out.

                      "Look at the pockets sticking out like ears "! My youngest one screamed with glee.

             "There inside out"  #2 laughs aloud as my Wonderful Wife joins in the chorus " And backwards! Look at the tag in the front! His shorts are on inside out and backwards..." 

                                                     Welcome to my mornings...

                                     To be honest, that really didn't bother me. I've never been a slave to fashion. Most of the time Ive done stupid things on purpose, to get a laugh. It's just a bonus when it happens by accident...

                           We had a pretty great Thanksgiving. My brother and sister in law came from Vermont and joined all of us and my father. No great political or religious debates ensued and everyone seemed to enjoy the day and company. In my house, it generally does not get better than that...

      It came to me that day, that counting blessings is like counting stars; once you commit to start, eventually the vastness forcibly overwhelms you...

        Sometimes they seem faint and infinitely far away. Sometimes the best and brightest require us to change where we are gazing and adjust the latitudes and longitudes... But when our eyes eventually do lock on, it becomes blazingly evident....that is, if we truly want to look; truly want to see...

                       Some of the world and national events lately have broken my heart.

                             That would not have been the case a few years ago.. Maybe even one year ago...

                               But today, as I see our nation divided over actuall injustices and media induced ones, something inside of me twist and turns in a confused and uncomfortable convulsion. My soul seems to spasm from an ineptness to emotionally understand and comprehend...

            It thirsts for truth, for the right way and the correct answer. I want to have an irrevocabe decision on right and wrong; a heavenly judgement that I can trust...

                                                     But I sit here, still waiting.

                                All I can see is melting hot mess created by loss and pain. Misteps and misunderstandings. I want to see right and wrong, not human frailty and inborn fault.

               But like so often in this quizzical life, I find no answer in black or white.

                         The answer remains locked somewhere in between..

                            It remains indecipherable to me although the spirit inside me longs to know what I should believe and where I should stand...

                                      So I stand at a loss, wanting justice, but not being able to define it. Wanting fairness, but absolutely clueless where to start...

                    All of the people I know, given the chance, would press the "easy button". 

              The button that would make everything equal and fair and just, across the board...

   That is, if that could actually be accomplished. No slight of hand side show or snake oil salesmans pledge; true equality and brotherhood.  If that could be guaranteed, I'm sure most people I know would agree to that...

                                   Sadly, no easy button exists.

                               Like all things human, like all things spiritual, it comes down to the hardest and trickiest of mans source. It comes to our hearts...

                        My brain and heart wrestle quite regularly. My brain generally has no qualms about its direction or purpose. Precise, logical and military in its evaluations, it tries to out perform the hearts simple and feeble replies with an over abundance of logic. Overwhelm with volume and infinite repetition...

              But the heart will not meekly leave the fight. It's still and small voice persistently chants what it KNOWS in its unfathomable depths...

              They fight and turn, twist and pary...

                    Inside out and backwards again, just at a deeper level...

                      In my confusion, I pray. An answer comes about how God holds all kings hearts in His hands and can soften them, as He wishes and sees fit.

                                     In His time, for His glory and His purposes..

                                                  And we are not kings....

                          But He does hold our hearts in His hands, softening and changing, as He sees fit.

                                It is such an easy trap for a well meaning Christian to fall in. 

                                   To believe we have infinite power over our own heart...

                                     It seems so reasonable. But it is thru Grace we are Saved, thru Grace we are changed. Our will had always been an enemy of our God, until He graced us with the ability to hear of Him and the want of the Love and forgiveness he had to offer.

                    Without that, we would still be lost in the wilderness.

                             So once again, I reluctantly find that my part is not in strategizing or planning.

                       That alone proves Gods Grace and Wisdom...

                                   As always, my part remains reasonably simple and adequately difficult...

                           To love God with all my heart...

                           To love my fellow man as Christ loves me...

                           To be a clean vessel and conduit, to bring His message to those who would hear; 

                           and to those who will not...

                                  To let my heart be softened and prepared, to be willing to change...

                                     To be right side in and frontword, where it matters, in the heart...

                            

Glasses...

                    Been a little Frazzled recently. Nothing in particular, just a cacophony of little irks and a few small concerns...

     I don't know if small is the best adjective, but they are not giant, not insurmountable or overwhelming...

                     Just life sometimes keeps pecking. I suppose it all comes down to the glasses you wish too wear.

                           I went thru our companies insurance informational meeting...twice. It just did not make it thru this large melon of a head the first time. Or the second. Or any time in the past month that I read the new policy...

                Don't worry. This is not about insurance or politics or Obamacare. 

                                           Really...

                           So a few weeks ago, my Wonderful Wife and I were discussing a physical test we were contemplating for one of our kids. Nothing serious, just an informative test. His primary Doctor said nothing was wrong, but you know how fifty year old( and nearly fifty year old ) helicopter parents can be..

            Always wanting second opinions...

                 For the first time in my parenting life, I wondered if the second opinion was worth it.

Not because I didn't want to get it... Because I was worried about the money...

           Last year it would not have been an issue, this year, it kind of is...

                  I've listened to A LOT of people complaining about coverage lately. It's happening everywhere. I wish I could legitimately blame someone, but in the end, as it always does, it comes back to simplicity. The "who" of the cause doesn't matter much, because it truly is a " what" statement...

                 What we are trying to do is replace Faith and Trust in Gods provision with a man-made, overly complex, poor substitute...

      Don't get me wrong; I STRONGLY DESIRE great healthcare for my family. Having that would remove loads of worry that I choose to carry instead of sprinkles of Faith...

       I have grown up in 21 century America, where we trust in panzi like institutions to make us feel secure...

       Unfortunately, that is an illusion. It is an amazingly convincing illusion, granted, but it has no real power or authority above God...

                         Blue Cross, to their chagrin, does not keep us healthy. They like to give that impression, but Health is graced by God, not distributed by Aflec.

                    So once again, it becomes a question of where to place our Faith...

                  My brain somehow thinks that great insurance and God as a back-up/ trump card is the most preferable...

                  As most of you know, I have a very silly and easily distracted eight pound mass inside my thick, polish skull..

                              And this is the place where true Faith really begins...

                          I can't tell you where it ends because I'm still struggling with the first hurdle..

               

                                           I want the kind of Faith that exists without worry of pain or loss.

     I want to KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we can somehow be protected from physical, emotional and financial losses.

          But that was never promised by God... I wish it was...

             No power on earth can give us that. Satan will promise it, daily, even hourly...

                But he can never deliver it. Illusions and allusions, but never true security.

                       So I find myself admitting and confessing that the show is more attractive than the real deal, sometimes. Sometimes I want to be conveniently deceived , if it means feeling worldly secure...

      But Christians are blessed with a simple yet terrifying choice that eventually define them; Faith or fear...

               Two pairs of glasses on the bedroom table. One that sees into a focused eternity, undistracted, almost oblivious to worldly concerns. Another with wide lensed vision, that collects every possible worry in a 360 degree spectrum.

    It shouldnt be so difficult, this accesorizing decision...

          So I Pray.

          I pray for knowledge of Gods Will for me, the power to carry it out and the willingness to go along with it...

          Willingness... That ones the kicker...