Its Just Another Manic Monday

I changed something this week. I changed the way I eat. Four days, anyway. I had a discussion with a good friend Sunday Night about the only diet plan I've successfully stuck to for the last, oh, fifteen years. It's called the "I'm Starting Monday" plan. You stick to it six days a week, Monday being the exception. On this plan Monday is a day of great frustration. Most of it you spend beating the full hell out of yourself for your lack of willpower, discipline, and general ability to do anything right. You also make bold statements and promises to yourself about how this is it, the last week. It concludes late Monday evening by determining since the upcoming Monday you will be in total misery, you might as well go out in style: Mexican, cookies, McDonalds, etc.

This past Monday I did something different. I started. I got up and had a healthy breakfast. Not to hard, I like cereal, and actually like alot of healthy cereals. Went to work, got thirsty, went to the Coke machine, first real confrontation: hear the sounds of metal ringing as swords are drawn...see the menacing Coke machine grow in size as I appear to shrink, the lightning fast sword strokes from the "Coke" button, but, no, I still stand, more lightning fast strokes from the "Sprite" button, not as good as Coke but plenty of sugar, but wait...I still stand, then the music builds, and from the ground where I have been beat down, the thrust of my sword...I push the Dasani water button...the Coke machine slinks away like Shelob the Spider, wounded but not finished...I sip victoriously. Momentum is building, I'm getting better with my sword. I've defeated hamburgers this week, everyday at lunch. To hear that correctly is to know that I have on a regular basis had burgers easily six to eight times a week. Maybe I should say that so far this week I've survived hamburgers, victory is many battles away. If you've read a past post of mine, you know the size of the battle I face. If you've seen me, you know the size of the belly I face. If you've seen my knees and feet...could you describe them for me? Been awhile. Sorry I digress. I need to lose pretty much slightly less than an average size man. That seems more than I can handle. It is. Still, I started Monday.

Okay, yes, I quoted the Bangles in my title. Yes, I liked them in high school. No, it wasn't because of their music. Yes, I've seen the error of my ways. Now say goodbye...
"Goodbye, poet".

Sleeping Grace

As the potential for some very exciting things continues to look more and more like reality, I am in awe of the grace of God. A very good friend listened as I talked through what appeared to be happening in my life and how it would have far reaching impacts and he commented, "you're really experiencing a time of grace", or something like that, anyway, he just excitedly reminded me of God's work in this.

Tonight, as I finish preparations for church tomorrow, my wife is sleeping behind me, and my son is asleep in his room. I paused, turned around and looked at my wife, she's so beautiful sleeping peacefully there. I got up and looked at my son, sleeping soundly with his little butt up in the air.
A reminder came flooding into my thoughts. Even if all the things that I anticipate completely fall through, my life has far more grace in it than I'll ever deserve.

The Deep Breath Before the Plunge

You ever have moments when there's an amazing sense of momentum in your life, but you don't really have a grip on it? Or more accurately, it's like it has a grip on you, and you know it's gonna be one hell of a ride, and you think you should be at least a little scared (and you should and you are), but you're also more than a bit excited (and that kinda scares you too). My life is in one of those places where it's very possible for some really big changes to take place, yet even if some of the more prominent ones don't happen, I know some significant shifts have already taken place at the deeper levels of my soul. I have a meeting tomorrow that I scheduled a week ago concerning a potential new job. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to be specific, but the thoughts of the past week as I have reflected on this possibility have revealed some really interesting things to me about who I am and who I'm becoming. I have a father's heart. It's not just loving my son, I don't have the words for what happens inside of me when I see him, or think of him while I'm at work; I would lay all of me on the line to protect him (and right now there's still alot of me). I see in me a heart to protect, guide, counsel, and be present in the lives of those I love, and to be a strong and trustworthy person in their lives.

In the midst of these thoughts came Maundy Thursday, the night of the last supper on the traditional church calendar. We had a very moving time together that ended with Communion, then took turns watching and praying for one hour shifts all night long. My hour was 3am to 4am. I met with God. I get a little nervous when I hear people say stuff like that, or "God spoke to me", mostly because it's become more "church-speak", it's the way to have no one question your hair brained idea. I didn't come out with any new ideas, or a checklist, although I did write down some areas in my life where I need God to empower and change me. Mostly, I just sat in the quiet in His presence. I believe the value of this discipline, and all disciplines have been lost in the modern "checklist" mentality. We don't practice a discipline to earn God's presence. The discipline is a means of helping us remove the obstacles we have placed in our lives to hear God, and to enjoy God.

Resurrection Day was beautiful. Litlover absolutely blew out "Uninvited". You rock, girl! What a powerful moment as we confronted as a community our tendency's to keep God at a distance. Kyle and Steve both offered great insights into the impact of that day and it's affect on how we live now.

The title of this post? Something Gandalf said to Pippin while sitting in Minas Tirith, right before all hell broke loose, which was right before a stunning victory. I'm sitting here feeling a little like the deep breath before the plunge. I'm ready.

Beer, Rock n Roll, and Gas

I had one of those moments today during a very quiet day of work when some thought or idea that bugs me gets lodged in my mind. The shop I work at is a couple of doors down from a bar, so maybe that's what started it. For some reason, I found myself wondering then growing frustrated with this idea that there are "manly" drinks and "girly" drinks, "manly" music and "girly" music, etc. You know the thought process. Don't get me wrong, I like beer, especially dark beer, but I also like most of the flavors of Smirnoff Ice. I do like some pretty crunchy rock n roll, edge music for us in T-town, but I also love Coldplay, and enjoy Josh Groban, and Sixpence. I think what irritates me is being part of a generation that desperately needs to rediscover what a man is, we've replaced genuine, passionate, manhood with stupid little macho rules involving the way you talk, what you drink, what you listen to, and the list goes on and on. So we drink beer, puff our chests out, cuss, fart and burp and figure we're men. Then, I went home tonight and discovered my righteous rant needed to be aimed inwardly.

Okay, side note here. I'm pretty much a barbarian. I cuss to often, I think the only bad burp is the one where you keep your mouth closed and let it fill up with air, (unless of course you intend to blow it in the face of an unsuspecting buddy), and I think farts are funny in pretty much every situation, even funerals (long story). I admire a good booger. I won't even talk about the toilet (I know you're grateful). I'm a man's man, right?

How is it that on a regular basis I fail to do the little things that I'm responsible for? In these failures I put undue pressure on my wife, let down my friends, and stay stuck in some stupid cycles that a little consistent action would free me from. You know what's really sad? The ladies who read this blog (if they're still with me after the farts and boogers...which, by the way, some of you think it's funny too, you're not foolin me...) will simply say something like "Yep, he's a man alright, they're all alike." Standing up when you pee doesn't equate to manhood, it generally just makes you biologically male.

I have my moments, when I'm strong, compassionate, safe but a little dangerous, gentle and still a little wild, a fierce warrior and romantic poet. Most of us have our moments, and our poor wives live on them for weeks and months. My wife deserves more, my son needs my example, and I want to be what I'm called to be.

Noble is as noble does

I would call myself a Lord of the Rings fan. Everyone who knows me would then call me a liar because my love of the books and subsequently the movies is way beyond just being a fan. My good friend Literature Lover sent me to a site where she had seen a video she said I just had to post. She was right, and now it's posted. I'm gonna move quickly to what it is I have to say, but first one quick note. This is "My Sacrifice" by Creed, one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite groups. The video, however, features clips from the Lord of the Rings, all focused on Samwise Gamgee.

Kyle told a story at one of our gatherings about a King and his little daughter who gets lost. It was a great story (you just gotta hear Kyle tell a story). A number of things stuck with me but one of the "concepts" that landed on me was how that although the daughter is lost and separated from her father the king, she soon begins to lead, help, and inspire the group of runaways and orphans she connects with. I wish I could remember exactly how Kyle worded it, but the idea is that even though she was lost and so distant from who she actually was, to the point of no longer even believing those memories were true, her character as someone with noble blood eventually surfaced as she became the leader of her ragtag group.

Aragorn is one of my greatest heros. I want to be like him: brave, wise, compassionate, a leader. He is the righful heir to the throne, born noble, and he acts like it. I love Viggo Mortenson's portrayal of him. Viggo makes him cool, bad, and yeah, he's hot (secure enough in my manhood to say it). Maybe if I looked like that at least by appearances I would look like I belong with my wife. She's hot. I'm certain people see us together and the inevitable conversation of "How did that guy end up with her?" breaks out. If I looked like Aragorn, maybe they would say something like "Guys like that always get the hot ones!" (Until they talked to me and realized that I'm a buffoon who doesn't deserve her... good lookin buffoon though). Aragorn is a warrior poet, and he looks the part and acts the part because he is the part. So why at the end of "The Return of the King" is he kneeling before Sam and the other Hobbits? Because he recognized true nobility.

True nobility is a heart issue, not a title or position. Sometimes those with title and position also posses the heart: Gandalf, Elrond, Aragorn, Legolas; sometimes they don't: Saruman, Sauron, Denethor. Sam is loyal, true, brave, committed, passionate about his friend and master. He stays when all else would leave, he pursues when he has no chance of catching, and he is full of hope, encouragement, and common sense. In spite of the heroic deeds and actions of Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, and even Frodo, without Sam the quest fails, and Middle Earth falls. He doesn't look the part, but he is the picture of nobility.

I got adopted by the King. My bloodlines changed, the old ones passed and a new one came. I'm nobility. Maybe someday I'll quit masking my nobility in a fog of false beliefs about the King. I spent a long time letting those long separated from Him tell me what He is like, and now those much more familiar with Him sharpen me, and remind me that he is not a distant King, but my Father. Maybe soon my life will reflect the bloodline to which I am born, or, more accurately, born again. Maybe I'll be like Sam.