Tonight, in the quiet of my empty home, I put on a cd of Kevin Singleton, sat back in my computer chair and closed my eyes. Having already washed my face and twisted my hair for the night, I settled back, with nothing to do but to let my heart grieve once again. The last three weeks I've been to more funerals than I have been to in the last 3 years. All of them unexpected, sudden, devastating.
As the tears escape the gate of my eyelids and plummet down the profile of my face, my heart aches. Not just for Michael, the young boy turned man who grew up to become the best entertainer this world has ever had the priviledge of seeing. Not just for the family who entertained the world and kept us dancing for decades. Not just for the children who are left without a father. I cry for the loss of innocence, the loss of a light, the loss of an opportunity for new beginnings.
I thought about the pressure he endured during his life. I only have a small idea of the greater intensity of a life exposed. I have a friend that became famous overnight and I watched him manage the delicate balancing act of his public life and his private life. Difficult to manage. So I multiply that times 1 million because this is the King of Pop. The man who sang lead on "Got to Be There", made us move with "Working Day and Night", grooved us with "Bad", introduced the world to a short film video in "Thriller", wowed us with his smoothness in "Remember the Time", compelled us to look within in "Man in the Mirror"... I mean, I could go on and on and on.
He was our entertainer. We loved him. We shared him with the world because we knew they loved him too.
Watching the deterioration of his life, the bad decisions, the lawsuits, the aesthetic changes, the bizarre behavior with his children, the unexplained reasons for the constant surrounding of children in close quarters, he fell out of my good graces and entered a category with me that I would label "Not sure; but something ain't right." I too judged him, made jokes about his misfortune, disapproved of the too skinny nose, and wondered just what the heck was going on with him.
Then I heard he was going back on tour. I was excited and disappointed. Glad that people in Europe still loved him enough to let him perform and disappointed that my financial resources wouldn't allow me to see him in person. It gave me an indication that perhaps there was still a chance for him to put a troubled 10 years behind him and be seen as the wonderful performer, dancer, entertainer and person he's always been beneath all the ugly situations that had piled on top of him. You know life has a tendency of doing that. Piling ugly things on top of you, some self imposed junk, some unrequested junk, and covers up your light, mutes your voice, and cloaks your presence to shadows. I was hoping this was his come back.
Now this. My friend called me this afternoon at work, very disturbed and anxious, asking had I heard the news about Michael Jackson. Their call caught me off guard and actually I laughed because I had never heard that much care/concern in their voice for someone who wasn't a friend or family member. There was an urgency in their voice for me to take notice, make a mark, remember this day. And as the evening wore on I realized just how much it meant to my friend that their childhood idol, our American Idol before the show exited, had departed us at such a tender age, and so suddenly and unexpectedly. They were grieving. My friend made a statement that is true for everyone. It's important that we remember that people, no matter how perfect we expect them to be, are indeed human. And the best thing you can do for a person is to give them a break and let them be. Let's try to remember this the next time we find ourselves judging and comparing and downing another individual.
Tonight, on the way home, my grief hit me. Some of it was for Michael. But also for Rogers Malbrough, for Kervin King, for Mrs. Bynum, for Pumpkin, and a few others that have passed in the last two weeks.
The world has lost a light... may his music let his life shine on...
In memory of Mike... the one who made me dance and sing out loud... I will continue
Thursday, June 25, 2009
6 days til 29: Who's World Is it Anyway?
Yesterday I received an article written by Roland Martin, a nationally syndicated columnist and CNN Contributor, entitled “U.S. should leave Iran alone.” In it, Martin asserts that Obama critics wrongly accuse him of being too cautious with Iran and then proceeds to teach a short history lesson on the history between the US and Iran.
You must read the article: http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/06/24/martin.obama.iran/index.html
During the article, he references a book "Overthrow: America's Century of Regime Change from Hawaii to Iraq" by Stephen Kinzer. Stephen Kinzer is an author and reporter and veteran New York Times correspondent. (Source: http://www.stephenkinzer.com/)
In it, he writes that the invasion of Iraq “was the culmination of a 110-year period during which Americans overthrew fourteen governments that displeased them for various ideological, political, and economic reasons.
(Source: http://www.democracynow.org/2006/4/21/overthrow_americas_century_of_regime_change)
Being a history buff, my friend went out and purchased the audio book version and conversation about the book ensued in a phone call last evening. He relayed to me the information the book asserted, the first story concerning the overthrow of Kingdom of Hawaiian:
Until the 1890s the Kingdom of Hawaii was an independent sovereign state, recognized by the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Japan, and Germany. Though there were threats to Hawaii's sovereignty throughout the Kingdom's history, it was not until the signing, under duress, of the Bayonet Constitution in 1887, that this threat began to be realized. On January 17, 1893, the last monarch of the Kingdom of Hawaii, Queen Liliuokalani, was deposed in a coup d'état attempting to establish the Constitution of 1893.
The coup left her imprisoned at Lolani Palace house arrest. The sovereignty of the Kingdom of Hawaii was lost to a Provisional Government led by the conspirators, later briefly becoming the Republic of Hawaii, before eventual annexation to the United States in 1898. One hundred years later, the U.S. Congress passed Public Law 103-150, otherwise known as the Apology Resolution, signed by President Bill Clinton on November 23, 1993. The resolution apologized for the U.S. Government's role in supporting the 1893 overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawaii.
The coup d'état that overthrew Queen Liliuokalani was led by Lorrin A. Thurston, a grandson of American missionaries who derived his support primarily from the American and European business class residing in Hawaii and other supporters of the Reform Party of the Hawaiian Kingdom. Most of the leaders of the Committee of Safety, which declared the queen deposed, were Kingdom subjects and included legislators, government officers, and even a Supreme Court Justice of the Hawaiian Kingdom.
(Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Overthrow_of_the_Hawaiian_Kingdom)
Interesting enough, the book goes on to outline “regime change” in many countries that have come at the hand of American hands and funded with American capital to achieve national commerce and political goals. As if American sovereignty in world affairs should take precedence over all else, including the well being of other nations. Don’t get me wrong. I understand that conquest and imperialism has been the story of the world. History, however, has taught us also that all great empires came to an end at some point. Past offenses are usually revisited by children who saw it happen and attempts to settle them usually result in war.
But who gets to say what the world is supposed to look like economically, politically, educationally, spiritually or otherwise?
And what gives them/us the right to impose their will on others?
The immigrants that sailed from England to the New World in search of freedom of choice left Europe because they wanted to do their own thing, right? So how is it that the youngest nation in the world now asserts its freedom by forcing other nations to conform to what we see as “civilized and acceptable”, and those who are doing their own thing, we despise, chastise, and try to convert?
Are we the bratty teenager that thinks they know it all?
It reminds me of a story about Dairy Queen, a sundae, and my mom:
My mom’s idea of a standard ice cream Sundae has ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, nuts, and a cherry. At Dairy Queen, a standard ice cream sundae is ice cream, chocolate syrup. The deluxe sundae includes whipped cream, nuts, and a cherry. She orders a sundae (with her idea in mind), and they give her a sundae (with their menu item in mind). She observes the absence of whipped cream, nuts and a cherry and points it out to the cashier. The cashier explains there will be an additional charge for those items. My mother, not wanting to pay extra, expresses her idea of a sundae. The cashier explains that her idea is a deluxe and costs more. After several minutes of back and forth banter, talking with the manager, and neither side budging on their “standards”, she decides she does not want to pay the additional 38 cents for her “standard”-their “deluxe”, and leaves upset and not wanting to patronize Dairy Queen again, telling others not to go there.
This story is a good example of how I have viewed the US and foreign relations often times (not always). The US, or western ideology, is like my mom at Dairy Queen, having a personal standard of how things should be and forcing that standard upon others who’s views are different. Then becoming angry and walking away when “they” don’t change how they do things after being “enlightened” about her standard. I’m not a political buff, but since I have been living, I have seen the “Big Bully” move played out several times in our diplomatic relations. Even movies like Swordfish (understandably fiction, but understandably realistic) talks about counter terrorism and give a suggestive view of how we are so protected here in the US. (By the way, I do appreciate the level of protection we enjoy here- or at least the perception of it. I don’t walk outside into a war-torn country or have fear of my city being bombed. I’m grateful for that.)
I love my country. I would not trade my citizenship with anyone outside the US. This is, however, becoming a very interesting history lesson. Thanks B!
What do you think?
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
7 days til 29: Big Mac or Spaghetti
My willpower. Tested. Today.
I promised myself that for the next couple weeks the only food I would purchase would be from the grocery store. Last week I brought lunch from home everyday. This week I've brought lunch from home every day. I have avoided eating fast food or eating out at lunch in my normal fashion.
While sitting here during the lunch hour, I knew I needed to eat but I was not looking forward to the spaghetti lunch I’d brought today. I decided to get up, get out of the office, go purchase a small meal, and to get some fresh air. I considered the nearby fast food restaurants: McDonald’s, Mexican, Krystal, Arby’s… and decided to “follow my nose” to something uber-delicious (or at the very least salty and yummy).
Starting the car, my mind started wandering, grateful that it didn’t feel like Hades was breaking through the pavement, praying with thanksgiving for the cloudy beautiful weather, and welcoming the light breeze blowing in the parking lot.
My “I-don’t-carry-cash” behavior was going to force me to use my debit card to purchase 6 dollars worth of food. My financial goals came to mind followed by several thoughts about my behavior. How weak was I to just have to go get something? If I just decided to get a shake and a small fry (salty and deliciously sweet combination), how guilty would the $2.26 McDonalds charge make me when I saw it on the bank statement? How pathetic would it be to miss my goal by $2.26?
By the time I got to the first light at the entrance to my office park, my decision was this- consistency towards my goal or golden delicious fries. Like the forbidden fruit drawing Eve in with it's "good to eat appearance," temptation stared me in the face. Would I stick to my guns? I contemplated making a U-turn. Go out to grab lunch OR go back to the office, heat up the spaghetti, feast on my free lunch (relatively speaking), and be content with the satisfaction that my restraint was going to speak to my strong will power and ultimately accomplish my goal? Would golden delicious fries make me reneg on my promise to myself?
Well…..
…Since I used my favorite spaghetti sauce, Prego’s Roasted Garlic and Red Pepper spaghetti sauce, that spaghetti sure was delicious. I’m full and have no worries that sometime within the next 24 hours I may have to pay the special room a visit for some unwelcome lunch that I should not have purchased anyway. And guess what? I’m smiling.
This may seem like a small decision but I believe millions of people come to the crossroads of this decision EVERYDAY. So often the instant gratification of our current desire wins out over our long term goals and plans. Sadly we realize the accumulated opportunity cost of all those small decisions too late and find ourselves overspent, overweight, unfulfilled, unhappy, and wondering where the time went and how we got here. We must make wiser decisions.
How do we do that?
In Proverbs 1: 20-21, the writer says "Wisdom cries aloud in the street, she raises her voice in the markets; she cries at the head of the noisy intersections [in the chief gathering places]; at the entrance of the city gates she speaks"
My revelation of this scripture is this: the Creator knows our lives are busy but every time we have to make a decision, wisdom is always there, crying out what to do. At every crossroad (place of decision) she is available. If that's the case, then guess what? All our decisions have the potential to be wise. Whether they are or not depends on you. Look, listen, understand, act.
I haven't always made wise decisions. But today I made a wise decision. And tomorrow I plan to do the same. And hopefully each day for the rest of my life I will choose the BEST as opposed to good for now.
Financial discipline: Check (today anyway... one day at a time)
I challenge you to test your discipline by aligning your behavior with your goals whether it's taking care of your body, finances, education, etc. Test your will in the heat of decision making. If you can develop discipline in one area, it is transferable. I’m going to be a Green Beret in discipline soon. Watch out world… I’m repositioning myself!
"There is a way, no matter what they say..."
Mos Def
I promised myself that for the next couple weeks the only food I would purchase would be from the grocery store. Last week I brought lunch from home everyday. This week I've brought lunch from home every day. I have avoided eating fast food or eating out at lunch in my normal fashion.
While sitting here during the lunch hour, I knew I needed to eat but I was not looking forward to the spaghetti lunch I’d brought today. I decided to get up, get out of the office, go purchase a small meal, and to get some fresh air. I considered the nearby fast food restaurants: McDonald’s, Mexican, Krystal, Arby’s… and decided to “follow my nose” to something uber-delicious (or at the very least salty and yummy).
Starting the car, my mind started wandering, grateful that it didn’t feel like Hades was breaking through the pavement, praying with thanksgiving for the cloudy beautiful weather, and welcoming the light breeze blowing in the parking lot.
My “I-don’t-carry-cash” behavior was going to force me to use my debit card to purchase 6 dollars worth of food. My financial goals came to mind followed by several thoughts about my behavior. How weak was I to just have to go get something? If I just decided to get a shake and a small fry (salty and deliciously sweet combination), how guilty would the $2.26 McDonalds charge make me when I saw it on the bank statement? How pathetic would it be to miss my goal by $2.26?
By the time I got to the first light at the entrance to my office park, my decision was this- consistency towards my goal or golden delicious fries. Like the forbidden fruit drawing Eve in with it's "good to eat appearance," temptation stared me in the face. Would I stick to my guns? I contemplated making a U-turn. Go out to grab lunch OR go back to the office, heat up the spaghetti, feast on my free lunch (relatively speaking), and be content with the satisfaction that my restraint was going to speak to my strong will power and ultimately accomplish my goal? Would golden delicious fries make me reneg on my promise to myself?
Well…..
…Since I used my favorite spaghetti sauce, Prego’s Roasted Garlic and Red Pepper spaghetti sauce, that spaghetti sure was delicious. I’m full and have no worries that sometime within the next 24 hours I may have to pay the special room a visit for some unwelcome lunch that I should not have purchased anyway. And guess what? I’m smiling.
This may seem like a small decision but I believe millions of people come to the crossroads of this decision EVERYDAY. So often the instant gratification of our current desire wins out over our long term goals and plans. Sadly we realize the accumulated opportunity cost of all those small decisions too late and find ourselves overspent, overweight, unfulfilled, unhappy, and wondering where the time went and how we got here. We must make wiser decisions.
How do we do that?
In Proverbs 1: 20-21, the writer says "Wisdom cries aloud in the street, she raises her voice in the markets; she cries at the head of the noisy intersections [in the chief gathering places]; at the entrance of the city gates she speaks"
My revelation of this scripture is this: the Creator knows our lives are busy but every time we have to make a decision, wisdom is always there, crying out what to do. At every crossroad (place of decision) she is available. If that's the case, then guess what? All our decisions have the potential to be wise. Whether they are or not depends on you. Look, listen, understand, act.
I haven't always made wise decisions. But today I made a wise decision. And tomorrow I plan to do the same. And hopefully each day for the rest of my life I will choose the BEST as opposed to good for now.
Financial discipline: Check (today anyway... one day at a time)
I challenge you to test your discipline by aligning your behavior with your goals whether it's taking care of your body, finances, education, etc. Test your will in the heat of decision making. If you can develop discipline in one area, it is transferable. I’m going to be a Green Beret in discipline soon. Watch out world… I’m repositioning myself!
"There is a way, no matter what they say..."
Mos Def
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
15 days til 29: Memoirs
As families go, I have the best. I couldn't have chosen better parents, better siblings, better aunts and uncles, better grandparents. God knew what he was doing when he placed me in this family.
Today I was reminded of why I am who I am right now. I had a long conversation with my Aunt in Arkansas this morning that grounded me. After asking how the family was doing, she shared with me that she was writing her memoirs, which had me all excited and wanting to know what she would say.
She shared with me many stories about growing up in Little Plymouth, Virginia, a small hamlet southeast of Richmond and was reminscent of the values she learned while in that community. She talked about her departure from her 1st college, after being there one year, and her move to Arkansas without telling her parents, them waiting at home for her to come home from a semester at college. She talked about giving birth alone and how she went to sleep and woke up in the dark, thinking she had died and gone to heaven. When she opened her eyes in the pitch dark, she said "Well God, I'm here." Then upon hearing someone else in the room added, "and I guess I'm not alone." And how she really had no idea that she in fact HAD NOT died from the intense pain of childbirth, but had made it alive.
She recounted the friends she made when she first got to Arkansas, mostly elderly ladies who took her under their wings and guided her through her first child (and the remaining 5 to come), her marriage, life in general and how invaluable they'd become to her. Several of them have passed away and she expressed how deeply she missed them.
She then went into stories about her toe that had been broken 7 years ago that protrudes, giving kids something to point at and tug on their mother's dresses about, the mood swings she's experiencing going through menopause and how walking for miles helps her relieve all the "extra energy" she has to expend by way of snappy remarks and anger, but how her broken toe sometimes tries to get in the way of her stress relieving activity.
After about 45 minutes of non-stop laughter, tears pouring down my face, I had to get back to some semblance of a normal work day (although I continued working through our conversation). While hanging up the phone, I couldn't help but be excited about the day those memoirs are in my hand and I'm enjoying her stories on the front porch, drinking some sweet tea, on a cool summer evening.
Today I was reminded of why I am who I am right now. I had a long conversation with my Aunt in Arkansas this morning that grounded me. After asking how the family was doing, she shared with me that she was writing her memoirs, which had me all excited and wanting to know what she would say.
She shared with me many stories about growing up in Little Plymouth, Virginia, a small hamlet southeast of Richmond and was reminscent of the values she learned while in that community. She talked about her departure from her 1st college, after being there one year, and her move to Arkansas without telling her parents, them waiting at home for her to come home from a semester at college. She talked about giving birth alone and how she went to sleep and woke up in the dark, thinking she had died and gone to heaven. When she opened her eyes in the pitch dark, she said "Well God, I'm here." Then upon hearing someone else in the room added, "and I guess I'm not alone." And how she really had no idea that she in fact HAD NOT died from the intense pain of childbirth, but had made it alive.
She recounted the friends she made when she first got to Arkansas, mostly elderly ladies who took her under their wings and guided her through her first child (and the remaining 5 to come), her marriage, life in general and how invaluable they'd become to her. Several of them have passed away and she expressed how deeply she missed them.
She then went into stories about her toe that had been broken 7 years ago that protrudes, giving kids something to point at and tug on their mother's dresses about, the mood swings she's experiencing going through menopause and how walking for miles helps her relieve all the "extra energy" she has to expend by way of snappy remarks and anger, but how her broken toe sometimes tries to get in the way of her stress relieving activity.
After about 45 minutes of non-stop laughter, tears pouring down my face, I had to get back to some semblance of a normal work day (although I continued working through our conversation). While hanging up the phone, I couldn't help but be excited about the day those memoirs are in my hand and I'm enjoying her stories on the front porch, drinking some sweet tea, on a cool summer evening.
Friday, June 12, 2009
18 days to 29: Brims
Brims. Those old school hats that your grandpa and uncles would wear with their Sunday clothes (or sometimes just everyday) that gave them a distinct look about them. Looking at pictures from the past you'll see them often and perhaps you never really paid much attention to them because they were common then. But you saw the eyes of the man wearing it, proud, dignified, strong (he probably didn't wear a smile on his face in the picture. Men back then didn't smile much.) But the power they have to transfer a regular man's attire from average to extraordinary is exponential (ever asked a pimp why he's wearing a brim? Powerful piece of the outfit!)
I have a friend whose husband's grandfather used to wear them. In recent months he's made mention of picking up the tradition of a man he loved. Thinking about donning the "brim" himself, in honor of him. Being the observant and giving wife that she is, she began looking for one to give him as a surprise.
The hat came in today. I passed her in the hall on the way to pick it up, smile on her face, excitement in her eyes, excitement in her voice as she whispered, "his hat is here." And when she returned, I got a quick email with the subject line reading "Hey...... come see!"
I walked in as she showcased the black fedora complete with it's subtle black and white with brown highlighted feather. Elegant, beautiful, classy, and quality. It has a silver silk inner lining. I can understand why a man would want to wear a hat like that when he was feeling especially sharp. It's a statement. If you didn't know, you should. I am someone.
Outside of the hat, my observation led me to the joy that my friend about purchasing a gift that she knows her husbands going to love. She's proud of herself for being on point, patting herself on the back for doing something for someone she loves. I'm glad to be witness to what love does for others and how much joy someone can take in blessing someone else.
Now that, my friends is what I call Christ-like. Doesn't our creator admonish us to love one another as we love ourselves? Our very nature is love and to show that to others is human nature and natural. Don't let this world fool you into thinking that to hate is the norm. It is not.
Can we all be so engaged, so attentive, to the needs of our loved ones that we are in fact "more blessed in giving than receiving"?
I believe we are... if we just let it flow and listen to that voice inside that tells you to do those nice things for others. Give yourself to giving... see where that road takes you...
My friend is in the land of fulfillment, joy, and peace. I'm sure your road of giving will lead you there too.
Ride it out... be a giver...
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
21 days to 29: Fear the Turtle
"Fear the Turtle"?
That's what the tag frame said that I saw on the freeway this morning. i read it, looked again, and read it again. And then I laughed, out loud. And then thought about it. Fear the turtle? Where did that come from? Then it hits me... the story about the turtoise and the hare.
And then i understand.
Fear the turtle.
Dang.
That's deep.
Let that sit.
Marinate on that.
That's what the tag frame said that I saw on the freeway this morning. i read it, looked again, and read it again. And then I laughed, out loud. And then thought about it. Fear the turtle? Where did that come from? Then it hits me... the story about the turtoise and the hare.
And then i understand.
Fear the turtle.
Dang.
That's deep.
Let that sit.
Marinate on that.
22 Days to 29: Back on the Grind
Last night I tossed and turned and didn't sleep so well. That made for a rough go at it this morning but I managed to drag myself outta bed at the right time and get to work on time.
Today we made it official. We received our entry badges to the building i work at, a sign of the increased security measures implemented due to being purchased by a very public company. As i sat in the chair, adjusting it so the picture-taker could get a good shot, i thought about being in the DMV line waiting on your drivers license. "Look at the red dot and smile," the lady behind the counter would say while she fidgeted with the bulky camera. Click, and that was that. No warning and no 1-2-3 count down to prepare you. And you wonder why drivers license pictures are so mug shot looking.
The day progressed smoothly. No snafu's or major dilemma's.
I had a meeting for a scholarship golf tournament via conference call and it went well. Lasted for about and hour and saved me from having to drive across town to attend.
This evening, I was disappointed when I got home because i was expecting my new modem to have made its way to my house. But opening the mail yielded nothing. So hopefully tomorrow it will be here. I NEED MY INTERNET!
I made ground turkey last night and tried to combine it with alfredo sauce and spaghetti noodles but it didn't turn out good at all. The alfredo sauce, a Ragu cheesy Alfredo Sauce, was nasty and tasted nothing like the Olive Garden delicious I was expecting. Back to the drawing board on that. Thank God I had mixed them together in a small bowl and not in the large pot. I can still eat the turkey and spaghetti noodles today with my regular Prego Roasted Garlic and Pepper sauce. Whew...
Late night phone calls with mom and B kept me up a little longer, but i settled in around 11... that's a wrap!
Today we made it official. We received our entry badges to the building i work at, a sign of the increased security measures implemented due to being purchased by a very public company. As i sat in the chair, adjusting it so the picture-taker could get a good shot, i thought about being in the DMV line waiting on your drivers license. "Look at the red dot and smile," the lady behind the counter would say while she fidgeted with the bulky camera. Click, and that was that. No warning and no 1-2-3 count down to prepare you. And you wonder why drivers license pictures are so mug shot looking.
The day progressed smoothly. No snafu's or major dilemma's.
I had a meeting for a scholarship golf tournament via conference call and it went well. Lasted for about and hour and saved me from having to drive across town to attend.
This evening, I was disappointed when I got home because i was expecting my new modem to have made its way to my house. But opening the mail yielded nothing. So hopefully tomorrow it will be here. I NEED MY INTERNET!
I made ground turkey last night and tried to combine it with alfredo sauce and spaghetti noodles but it didn't turn out good at all. The alfredo sauce, a Ragu cheesy Alfredo Sauce, was nasty and tasted nothing like the Olive Garden delicious I was expecting. Back to the drawing board on that. Thank God I had mixed them together in a small bowl and not in the large pot. I can still eat the turkey and spaghetti noodles today with my regular Prego Roasted Garlic and Pepper sauce. Whew...
Late night phone calls with mom and B kept me up a little longer, but i settled in around 11... that's a wrap!
23 days to 29: Taking it easy
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Considering the hustle and bustle of yesterday, I definitely didn’t want to do much today. It was all I could do to make it to service on time. Service was right on! Near the end, just before communion, we had a special prayer request for a family in the church who had lost a son, 21 years old, in a car accident the day prior. Immediately my heart went out the mother and daughter who were standing at the altar. I was overcome with emotion and began weeping for the family, as many others in the church were, and praying God strengthen them as they go through this time of bereavement. Then my mind began to think about my brothers, their youth, and how devastated I would be if anything like that happened to them. And the more I thought about it, the more I cried. My tears continued even through our communion service and finally stopped just before I went down to hug the family.
I went home, took a shower and came out to chill at B’s. I was introduced to Avatar: the Last Airbender and watched several episodes of the cartoon. Very entertaining and interesting. I had some great spaghetti and had a chance to just chill, something I needed desperately. Again the soothing laughter of a child lulled me back into a place of peace and serenity.
This evening, we visited a friends home to watch game 2 of the NBA Finals (Go Lakers!). Being the first one’s there, I was prepared to be the only ones there (in case everyone else was busy who got the “come on over” text) and settled into the plush comfy couch of my friend to watch the game. As we often do, people began to trickle in and before it was over, she had a full house of basketball fans, food fans, and fellowship fans. Her salad and buffalo wild wings menu hit the spot! Kool aid (ya’ll know I love Kool aid) was abundant and we had blast! After the game went off, we had a chance to see a portion of Paul Mooney’s stand up show in Los Angeles and it was hilarious. The brother is soooo talented and soooo funny. He drops knowledge AND makes you laugh until you cry. We’re definitely going to have to see the rest of that dvd. Priceless.
So a much needed day of rest was had. And I am grateful for it!
Considering the hustle and bustle of yesterday, I definitely didn’t want to do much today. It was all I could do to make it to service on time. Service was right on! Near the end, just before communion, we had a special prayer request for a family in the church who had lost a son, 21 years old, in a car accident the day prior. Immediately my heart went out the mother and daughter who were standing at the altar. I was overcome with emotion and began weeping for the family, as many others in the church were, and praying God strengthen them as they go through this time of bereavement. Then my mind began to think about my brothers, their youth, and how devastated I would be if anything like that happened to them. And the more I thought about it, the more I cried. My tears continued even through our communion service and finally stopped just before I went down to hug the family.
I went home, took a shower and came out to chill at B’s. I was introduced to Avatar: the Last Airbender and watched several episodes of the cartoon. Very entertaining and interesting. I had some great spaghetti and had a chance to just chill, something I needed desperately. Again the soothing laughter of a child lulled me back into a place of peace and serenity.
This evening, we visited a friends home to watch game 2 of the NBA Finals (Go Lakers!). Being the first one’s there, I was prepared to be the only ones there (in case everyone else was busy who got the “come on over” text) and settled into the plush comfy couch of my friend to watch the game. As we often do, people began to trickle in and before it was over, she had a full house of basketball fans, food fans, and fellowship fans. Her salad and buffalo wild wings menu hit the spot! Kool aid (ya’ll know I love Kool aid) was abundant and we had blast! After the game went off, we had a chance to see a portion of Paul Mooney’s stand up show in Los Angeles and it was hilarious. The brother is soooo talented and soooo funny. He drops knowledge AND makes you laugh until you cry. We’re definitely going to have to see the rest of that dvd. Priceless.
So a much needed day of rest was had. And I am grateful for it!
24 days to 29: I'll never forget Sam Jones
Rrrrrrrrrring. Rrrrrrrrrrring. Rrrrrrrrrring.
5:30 AM came too early for me Saturday morning and when I heard the ring of my cell phone alarm, I immediately hit snooze and folded my legs back into a fetal position to resume sleep. I knew I needed to be in Tarrant city by 6:45 am, and at East Lake Park by 7 am to man the booth at the annual fishing derby. Somehow the tug of the bed kept me captive for at least 30 more minutes and after fighting my sleep induced sluggishness, I made my way to the restroom to get ready for the day.
A. The Fishing Derby 7:45 AM-1:15 PM
I picked up T-Man from his mom’s house (a kid God brought to me to mentor) and we made our way to Eastlake park where my brother was awaiting our arrival. Parking on the north side of the park, we had to walk around to the other side to the tent where the Museum of Art table was set up. Our task this morning was to help kids make Japanese fish prints, called Gyutaku (gee- you- ta- ku).
Gyutaku is a traditional form of Japanese fish printing, dating from the mid 1800s fishermen used to record their catches (‘cause their homeboys didn’t believe the stories they told when they got back to the village”). In order to make a gyotaku print, one places the subject (e.g. fish, crab, scallop shell- whatever you want to make a print of—we had rubber fish replicas) on a wooden bench and paints one side with sumi ink (or paint or whatever you got there. One lady said she used chocolate one time…I don’t know about that). Then they used rice paper and laid it over the painted side, pressing gently over the fish to make a print. Cool art for kids out at a fishing event.
COLLEGE STUDENT TIP: The cool thing about volunteering is that you usually get free stuff at some point during your time. Free food is always great! And sometimes they let you get TWO PLATES when there’s enough!
After making fish prints with the kids, I had a chance to sit around on the pier and watch an eager young man (5 years old) get excited about chicken livers and his worms. He picked up the fishing rod and reeled in his hook and the hook with the worm still wrapped tightly around it almost smacked me in the lips for a kiss. Hahahaha! After lounging for a while soaking up sunlight, we decided to depart
B. Sam Jones & the Long Road Home 1:20-3:10 PM
On the way to take T-Man home, during our discussion about college and business school majors, and football schedules, we came across a limping young man on a back road. It was hot, he looked like he was struggling to get wherever he was going, and it was at least another mile or two before the next residential area. Being the person I am, I stopped and asked him if he wanted a ride and he hopped in and said he was going up the road.
Looking in my rearview window, I asked him his name and took in his appearance. He was cleanly dressed, fresh hair cut, but due to a childhood accident, had a wondering eye, a serious limp and a handicapped arm. Once we reached the residential area, I asked him where to turn. He told me. Then I’d ask him again. He told me. This back and forth went on for about 5 minutes until we were smack in the middle of the neighborhood. By this time, I’m expecting him to tell me which house he was going to, but when I asked him where he was going, there was silence and blank stare. At that point I got nervous. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know his home phone number or address, and wasn’t communicating well. Seems like he came back around and wanted to go to a part of town not too far from where we were. So thinking he knew now where he was going, we went on.
After two more unsuccessful attempts to get him where we were going, we ended up in Druid Hills, near downtown Birmingham, a far cry from where we had started.
At this point I’m very concerned and frustrated. He couldn’t communicate to me anything that would help me get him to where he needed to go, he didn’t have any id, and had no clue where he was. After a few more attempts to jog his memory, I decided the best place to take him was the Police Department to see if they could help. We headed to the downtown precinct (if you ever in an emergency or need help, don’t go there! Slow as molasses!) After about 30 minutes of waiting for someone to help, a unit with male and female partners came and begins inquiring. The female was more empathetic, the male acted as if we were bothering him and hated he was called for this particular situation. You could tell by his constant leaving to take care of other things (one of which included a cell phone battery going dead) while he was supposed to be trying to help us. Eventually, I had to leave Sam Jones in their care. They took down my information.
As me and T-Man left, I agonized over leaving him and prayed that someone would report him missing and come looking for him. Needless to say, the tension level in my body had peaked and I had a pounding migraine getting into my vehicle. On the way home, we discussed the likelihood that he would get home that night, what we had learned, and what we might have taken from that situation. Before T-Man got out of the vehicle, he turned to me and said "I'll never forget Sam Jones." "Me either," I replied.
C. Bowling Fun 3:35 - 5:45 PM
Needless to say, by the time I got home, all I wanted to do was shower and lay down. Unfortunately, my youth had a pre-scheduled event at the bowling alley that I just could not miss. So I showered and changed, took some Advil, and made my way to Lightning Strikes.
There’s something about kids that can lighten burdens. Their laughs and silly banter with one another (that call also get on your nerves) is therapeutic. Once I got to the bowling alley, I was visible wiped out, evident in the parents inquiries about me and how I was doing. After settling in, the stress from my Sam Jones encounter slowly melted away. We bowled, slurped slushees, cheered for one another, laughed, at French fries, and had a great time. I hate I didn’t have my camera with me to capture the good times. It was just what I needed to wind down. Afterward, I went up to the counter to pay for the shoes for my nieces and nephews and the game for all the kids. The cashier rang up the shoes. They came up to 8 dollars and some change. Then I asked him to ring up the games from my lane. He said there was no balance open. I asked him to recheck, because I hadn’t prepaid for the games. He checked again, no balance. So I assumed someone else in our group had paid it, said bless the lord, and left. How great is that?
If you think I went home after that and went to sleep… I got picked up by my girlfriend and went out for ice cream.
I know, I know… don’t worry. By 10 o’ clock, she was talking and I was falling asleep on her… What a day!
"There is a way, no matter what they say..."
Mos Def
5:30 AM came too early for me Saturday morning and when I heard the ring of my cell phone alarm, I immediately hit snooze and folded my legs back into a fetal position to resume sleep. I knew I needed to be in Tarrant city by 6:45 am, and at East Lake Park by 7 am to man the booth at the annual fishing derby. Somehow the tug of the bed kept me captive for at least 30 more minutes and after fighting my sleep induced sluggishness, I made my way to the restroom to get ready for the day.
A. The Fishing Derby 7:45 AM-1:15 PM
I picked up T-Man from his mom’s house (a kid God brought to me to mentor) and we made our way to Eastlake park where my brother was awaiting our arrival. Parking on the north side of the park, we had to walk around to the other side to the tent where the Museum of Art table was set up. Our task this morning was to help kids make Japanese fish prints, called Gyutaku (gee- you- ta- ku).
Gyutaku is a traditional form of Japanese fish printing, dating from the mid 1800s fishermen used to record their catches (‘cause their homeboys didn’t believe the stories they told when they got back to the village”). In order to make a gyotaku print, one places the subject (e.g. fish, crab, scallop shell- whatever you want to make a print of—we had rubber fish replicas) on a wooden bench and paints one side with sumi ink (or paint or whatever you got there. One lady said she used chocolate one time…I don’t know about that). Then they used rice paper and laid it over the painted side, pressing gently over the fish to make a print. Cool art for kids out at a fishing event.
COLLEGE STUDENT TIP: The cool thing about volunteering is that you usually get free stuff at some point during your time. Free food is always great! And sometimes they let you get TWO PLATES when there’s enough!
After making fish prints with the kids, I had a chance to sit around on the pier and watch an eager young man (5 years old) get excited about chicken livers and his worms. He picked up the fishing rod and reeled in his hook and the hook with the worm still wrapped tightly around it almost smacked me in the lips for a kiss. Hahahaha! After lounging for a while soaking up sunlight, we decided to depart
B. Sam Jones & the Long Road Home 1:20-3:10 PM
On the way to take T-Man home, during our discussion about college and business school majors, and football schedules, we came across a limping young man on a back road. It was hot, he looked like he was struggling to get wherever he was going, and it was at least another mile or two before the next residential area. Being the person I am, I stopped and asked him if he wanted a ride and he hopped in and said he was going up the road.
Looking in my rearview window, I asked him his name and took in his appearance. He was cleanly dressed, fresh hair cut, but due to a childhood accident, had a wondering eye, a serious limp and a handicapped arm. Once we reached the residential area, I asked him where to turn. He told me. Then I’d ask him again. He told me. This back and forth went on for about 5 minutes until we were smack in the middle of the neighborhood. By this time, I’m expecting him to tell me which house he was going to, but when I asked him where he was going, there was silence and blank stare. At that point I got nervous. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know his home phone number or address, and wasn’t communicating well. Seems like he came back around and wanted to go to a part of town not too far from where we were. So thinking he knew now where he was going, we went on.
After two more unsuccessful attempts to get him where we were going, we ended up in Druid Hills, near downtown Birmingham, a far cry from where we had started.
At this point I’m very concerned and frustrated. He couldn’t communicate to me anything that would help me get him to where he needed to go, he didn’t have any id, and had no clue where he was. After a few more attempts to jog his memory, I decided the best place to take him was the Police Department to see if they could help. We headed to the downtown precinct (if you ever in an emergency or need help, don’t go there! Slow as molasses!) After about 30 minutes of waiting for someone to help, a unit with male and female partners came and begins inquiring. The female was more empathetic, the male acted as if we were bothering him and hated he was called for this particular situation. You could tell by his constant leaving to take care of other things (one of which included a cell phone battery going dead) while he was supposed to be trying to help us. Eventually, I had to leave Sam Jones in their care. They took down my information.
As me and T-Man left, I agonized over leaving him and prayed that someone would report him missing and come looking for him. Needless to say, the tension level in my body had peaked and I had a pounding migraine getting into my vehicle. On the way home, we discussed the likelihood that he would get home that night, what we had learned, and what we might have taken from that situation. Before T-Man got out of the vehicle, he turned to me and said "I'll never forget Sam Jones." "Me either," I replied.
C. Bowling Fun 3:35 - 5:45 PM
Needless to say, by the time I got home, all I wanted to do was shower and lay down. Unfortunately, my youth had a pre-scheduled event at the bowling alley that I just could not miss. So I showered and changed, took some Advil, and made my way to Lightning Strikes.
There’s something about kids that can lighten burdens. Their laughs and silly banter with one another (that call also get on your nerves) is therapeutic. Once I got to the bowling alley, I was visible wiped out, evident in the parents inquiries about me and how I was doing. After settling in, the stress from my Sam Jones encounter slowly melted away. We bowled, slurped slushees, cheered for one another, laughed, at French fries, and had a great time. I hate I didn’t have my camera with me to capture the good times. It was just what I needed to wind down. Afterward, I went up to the counter to pay for the shoes for my nieces and nephews and the game for all the kids. The cashier rang up the shoes. They came up to 8 dollars and some change. Then I asked him to ring up the games from my lane. He said there was no balance open. I asked him to recheck, because I hadn’t prepaid for the games. He checked again, no balance. So I assumed someone else in our group had paid it, said bless the lord, and left. How great is that?
If you think I went home after that and went to sleep… I got picked up by my girlfriend and went out for ice cream.
I know, I know… don’t worry. By 10 o’ clock, she was talking and I was falling asleep on her… What a day!
"There is a way, no matter what they say..."
Mos Def
Monday, June 8, 2009
25 days to 29: Remember The Good Times
Cab ride to Manhattan from Queens: $17.26
Dinner for two at a swank Manhattan restaurant: $96.37
Ice Cream for two at Chickalicious Desert Bar: $18.54
Visiting places that bring back to your husband’s Alzheimer’s memory the good times: Priceless
As I rode into work Friday morning, I tuned into NPR radio and during Morning Edition I listened to an interesting story about a couple who had been married for years and were being interviewed. The husband and wife had northern accents and during their conversation, I enjoyed their witty back-and-forth banter. They discussed the husband having alzeihmers and how things have changed since he has been dealing with it.
He commented on how beautiful his wife was, how he had watched her body change over the years, but enjoyed her wrinkles nonetheless. “She’s my buddy, my pal, my best friend,” he said. “You know, as you get older, you need different things from your mate.” Then out of nowhere he adds “She’s never been that great of a cook, but she sure knows how to make good reservations,” both of them begin laughing.
His comment about her sub par cooking made me to burst into laughter, in the solitude of my vehicle. It warms me up that this man and woman, at the hilt of the mid 1900’s, when part of a woman’s primary role was to cook, found a way around it, and made it work for them. As I exited my vehicle and headed into the building, I made a mental note that I would share this delightful information with someone else in hopes that they would laugh at his honest and candid expression.
As the day continued, I had a chance to take lunch to my sweetie, and then went to meet up with a gentleman who will be speaking at our church for youth Sunday the last Sunday of this month. His organization Stop the Violence focuses on increasing the peace on the streets of the city. We had a very open conversation about the state of our youth, how we grew up, and ways we could continue to reach out to them. Miss B's is a great place for soul food (if you didn't know. It's on 4th Avenue and 16th Street!)
I received a phone call not long after leaving lunch and was pleasantly surprised to be able to go to Casino Royale, a fundraiser for UAB Healthy Happy Kids Program. Talk about a delight. I got to wear a cute dress, spend someone else’s money, and meet some great people! If you missed it, SHAME ON YOU! You would have had a ball! I met some AWESOME people doing some great work in their careers to help others live better lives. My hats off to my friend Katrina Marshall and her team for pulling off an awesome fundraiser!
Dinner for two at a swank Manhattan restaurant: $96.37
Ice Cream for two at Chickalicious Desert Bar: $18.54
Visiting places that bring back to your husband’s Alzheimer’s memory the good times: Priceless
As I rode into work Friday morning, I tuned into NPR radio and during Morning Edition I listened to an interesting story about a couple who had been married for years and were being interviewed. The husband and wife had northern accents and during their conversation, I enjoyed their witty back-and-forth banter. They discussed the husband having alzeihmers and how things have changed since he has been dealing with it.
He commented on how beautiful his wife was, how he had watched her body change over the years, but enjoyed her wrinkles nonetheless. “She’s my buddy, my pal, my best friend,” he said. “You know, as you get older, you need different things from your mate.” Then out of nowhere he adds “She’s never been that great of a cook, but she sure knows how to make good reservations,” both of them begin laughing.
His comment about her sub par cooking made me to burst into laughter, in the solitude of my vehicle. It warms me up that this man and woman, at the hilt of the mid 1900’s, when part of a woman’s primary role was to cook, found a way around it, and made it work for them. As I exited my vehicle and headed into the building, I made a mental note that I would share this delightful information with someone else in hopes that they would laugh at his honest and candid expression.
As the day continued, I had a chance to take lunch to my sweetie, and then went to meet up with a gentleman who will be speaking at our church for youth Sunday the last Sunday of this month. His organization Stop the Violence focuses on increasing the peace on the streets of the city. We had a very open conversation about the state of our youth, how we grew up, and ways we could continue to reach out to them. Miss B's is a great place for soul food (if you didn't know. It's on 4th Avenue and 16th Street!)
I received a phone call not long after leaving lunch and was pleasantly surprised to be able to go to Casino Royale, a fundraiser for UAB Healthy Happy Kids Program. Talk about a delight. I got to wear a cute dress, spend someone else’s money, and meet some great people! If you missed it, SHAME ON YOU! You would have had a ball! I met some AWESOME people doing some great work in their careers to help others live better lives. My hats off to my friend Katrina Marshall and her team for pulling off an awesome fundraiser!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
26 days to 29: No More Churches
Today on my lunch outing, I rode with a colleague trying to find the Popeye’s chicken on this side of town. In our lost-but-not-really-lost exploration we drove down Valleydale, in the coolness of the beautiful day. My eyes darted left to right, right to left, somehow trying to capture the entire scene.
Beautiful subdivisions with regal names mounted on brick entrance signs and upscale fonts (with houses i want to live in but not pay for). Two golf courses. Most of this hidden by large areas of tall green forest areas that open up abruptly to 4-stop retail areas “within short driving distance” (with my real estate agent sales pitch cheerful voice) from the residential properties complete with shopping malls, drug stores, and restaurants.
Ever so often, we’d hit a clearing on either side of the two-lane road that held churches, of all denominations. Some we had very tall steeples, towering above the freshly painted parking lots, empty during the weekday work hour as we drove by, but no doubt complete with an educational wing and probably a community center wing. Some very small, one or two room edifices, one story, freshly painted. Coming across so many churches on this one road during our 10 minute drive made me think about my community and my church and all the churches that I passed on the daily basis and their significance and role in the communities in which they sit. Two things came to mind:
1. What’s the point of having a church in a community it doesn’t serve? Why need does the community have need for it?
In the Bible, Jesus tells the people in Matthew 11:28 “Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy labored and I will give you rest.”
Although I’m a member of a local congregation, I pass a gazillion churches on my way to my place of worship. I also pass by several communities. I wonder just how many weary, heavy laden spirits reside in these communities I’ve passed by today on Valleydale, and other days in my own community, and in the community where my church is.
I cannot speak for the churches I passed today, but out of the 5 or 6 churches (and I’m sure there are more) in my neighborhood, I can only recall two churches in my surrounding neighborhood that I have every received any correspondence from. How can I, their neighbor, one less than a half a mile away, receive the message of hope, peace, joy, and happiness and get what I need if I never step inside of those 4 walls? How many people, within walking distance of a church are on the verge of losing it, just needing to hear something from someone that can uplift their spirit, give wisdom about a decision, and generally make them feel better about life? Will I hear the message at all? Maybe. Maybe not.
A story comes to mind that I heard yesterday on NPR. The reporter went around asking people what they thought about when they thought about Barack Obama. They’re answers all included one resounding word: hope. Barack Obama gave them hope. One person brought hope to the masses. That’s powerful and profound. You are one person. Look at what is possible when one person reaches out to people around them. Grant it, we don’t have the money to run the “campaign” if you will, but we do have access to the community by virtue of being apart of it. I believe many churches are short armed in that they are not reaching out.
Just imagine what could happen if we…
asked Mrs. Johnson, whose house is an eye sore in the neighborhood because it needs a paint job, if she minded if we painted her home?
offered a ride to the mean elderly lady next door to the church to the Piggly Wiggly down the street to pick up her groceries and brought her back and help her unload them
What if we risked being involved…?
2. We don’t need another church building or another church expansion project.
Do we have more in common than are willing to admit?
What we need to is fill the one we got with services people can use and unite with others to be of service to communities we sit in. If there are 6 churches on one street all having Vacation Bible School, wouldn’t it save resources, reach more at once, and foster more fellowship if we had them all together?
There's got to be some way we can reduce the redundancy and consolidate church congregations. Are we all so different in how we believe and how we chose to worship that we need so many churches on one road to accommodate us all? Are these huge beautiful edifices really a testament to discipleship and communion or are they an example of just how divided the body of Christ is. (speaking from a Christian perspective)
We’ve expended great effort and resources and have done an excellent job at building architecturally strong edifices in which to gather in.
But how much effort and resources are we or are we willing to expend, in financial capital and human resources, in building up the hearts of people who live daily outside of that place of worship?
Just a thought that came to me while we were lost, trying to find Popeye’s and the 2 piece and a biscuit $1.99 special…
"There is a way, no matter what they say..."
Mos Def
Beautiful subdivisions with regal names mounted on brick entrance signs and upscale fonts (with houses i want to live in but not pay for). Two golf courses. Most of this hidden by large areas of tall green forest areas that open up abruptly to 4-stop retail areas “within short driving distance” (with my real estate agent sales pitch cheerful voice) from the residential properties complete with shopping malls, drug stores, and restaurants.
Ever so often, we’d hit a clearing on either side of the two-lane road that held churches, of all denominations. Some we had very tall steeples, towering above the freshly painted parking lots, empty during the weekday work hour as we drove by, but no doubt complete with an educational wing and probably a community center wing. Some very small, one or two room edifices, one story, freshly painted. Coming across so many churches on this one road during our 10 minute drive made me think about my community and my church and all the churches that I passed on the daily basis and their significance and role in the communities in which they sit. Two things came to mind:
1. What’s the point of having a church in a community it doesn’t serve? Why need does the community have need for it?
In the Bible, Jesus tells the people in Matthew 11:28 “Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy labored and I will give you rest.”
Although I’m a member of a local congregation, I pass a gazillion churches on my way to my place of worship. I also pass by several communities. I wonder just how many weary, heavy laden spirits reside in these communities I’ve passed by today on Valleydale, and other days in my own community, and in the community where my church is.
I cannot speak for the churches I passed today, but out of the 5 or 6 churches (and I’m sure there are more) in my neighborhood, I can only recall two churches in my surrounding neighborhood that I have every received any correspondence from. How can I, their neighbor, one less than a half a mile away, receive the message of hope, peace, joy, and happiness and get what I need if I never step inside of those 4 walls? How many people, within walking distance of a church are on the verge of losing it, just needing to hear something from someone that can uplift their spirit, give wisdom about a decision, and generally make them feel better about life? Will I hear the message at all? Maybe. Maybe not.
A story comes to mind that I heard yesterday on NPR. The reporter went around asking people what they thought about when they thought about Barack Obama. They’re answers all included one resounding word: hope. Barack Obama gave them hope. One person brought hope to the masses. That’s powerful and profound. You are one person. Look at what is possible when one person reaches out to people around them. Grant it, we don’t have the money to run the “campaign” if you will, but we do have access to the community by virtue of being apart of it. I believe many churches are short armed in that they are not reaching out.
Just imagine what could happen if we…
asked Mrs. Johnson, whose house is an eye sore in the neighborhood because it needs a paint job, if she minded if we painted her home?
offered a ride to the mean elderly lady next door to the church to the Piggly Wiggly down the street to pick up her groceries and brought her back and help her unload them
What if we risked being involved…?
2. We don’t need another church building or another church expansion project.
Do we have more in common than are willing to admit?
What we need to is fill the one we got with services people can use and unite with others to be of service to communities we sit in. If there are 6 churches on one street all having Vacation Bible School, wouldn’t it save resources, reach more at once, and foster more fellowship if we had them all together?
There's got to be some way we can reduce the redundancy and consolidate church congregations. Are we all so different in how we believe and how we chose to worship that we need so many churches on one road to accommodate us all? Are these huge beautiful edifices really a testament to discipleship and communion or are they an example of just how divided the body of Christ is. (speaking from a Christian perspective)
We’ve expended great effort and resources and have done an excellent job at building architecturally strong edifices in which to gather in.
But how much effort and resources are we or are we willing to expend, in financial capital and human resources, in building up the hearts of people who live daily outside of that place of worship?
Just a thought that came to me while we were lost, trying to find Popeye’s and the 2 piece and a biscuit $1.99 special…
"There is a way, no matter what they say..."
Mos Def
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
27 days til 29: Bittersweet Breakup
Last night I was witness to a break-up. It was amicable, but he was so sick to part with her. He admitted being neglectful and not “spending enough time with her.” She showed in on her face. He admitted she was a good one; dependable, sometimes temperamental, but if you talked to her, she usually came around and did what you needed her to do. I stood watching, seeing the sadness in his eyes, watching him walk around her, touch her, shake his head. When I asked him would he cry, he replied that he already had. She was his baby. They’d been together so long, through thick and thin. So the departure was bitter sweet. After a few instructions and one last look, he dropped the keys of the ‘73 Caprice Classic over to its new owner.
She wouldn’t leave at first. Felt his pull as she backed away from him. Stalled and stopped. Tried again. Rocked forward, and then backed away again. Finally, after a few failed attempts, she eased out of his life. Pulled off and left. He watched her as she left, sickened by the thought of not having her by his side. Then he got a call from the new owner. She was acting up. He chuckled to himself, knowing her habits. He was kind of glad she didn’t go so easily. After all the years they’d been together you’d think she should have some hesitation. Driving in his car on the way to talk to her, he reminisced on all the sweet memories they’d made together. All the rides they took; the entire road they had covered. She’d been there, graceful and steady, just glad to be there. The last two years, life just seemed to slip away from him, no time to spend with her. Other things were more important, demanded his time and attention. And now, she was gone.
Pulling up to where she sat, he jumped out to coax her into submission. She was a stubborn thing and this time took her sweet time getting right. But when she did, he heard the magic words “you want to drive her?” Do you have to ask his reply?
Exhilarated as they eased onto the near empty expressway, windows down, he could feel goose bumps as she glided forward, unrestrained, unbridled, soaring over the pavement. It was as if they had never been apart. Fourty more minutes of just them, silently accepting the parting of their ways, until they came to rest at her new resting place. They fell silent as they sat, waiting to let go. He whispered to her softly “I don’t want to see you no more. I couldn’t bear seeing you with another man.” She responded in silence. She understood.
And that was that.
He returned home.
She stayed in her new home.
Break ups are the hardest
And who knew love could be so strong between a man and his old car.
I thought about them this morning when i woke up. What comes to mind is Carl Thomas' song "I Wish" and its chorus:
And I wish I never met her at all
Even though I love her so
She got love from me
But she still belongs to someone else
In time, he'll be fine. But it just ain't easy.
She wouldn’t leave at first. Felt his pull as she backed away from him. Stalled and stopped. Tried again. Rocked forward, and then backed away again. Finally, after a few failed attempts, she eased out of his life. Pulled off and left. He watched her as she left, sickened by the thought of not having her by his side. Then he got a call from the new owner. She was acting up. He chuckled to himself, knowing her habits. He was kind of glad she didn’t go so easily. After all the years they’d been together you’d think she should have some hesitation. Driving in his car on the way to talk to her, he reminisced on all the sweet memories they’d made together. All the rides they took; the entire road they had covered. She’d been there, graceful and steady, just glad to be there. The last two years, life just seemed to slip away from him, no time to spend with her. Other things were more important, demanded his time and attention. And now, she was gone.
Pulling up to where she sat, he jumped out to coax her into submission. She was a stubborn thing and this time took her sweet time getting right. But when she did, he heard the magic words “you want to drive her?” Do you have to ask his reply?
Exhilarated as they eased onto the near empty expressway, windows down, he could feel goose bumps as she glided forward, unrestrained, unbridled, soaring over the pavement. It was as if they had never been apart. Fourty more minutes of just them, silently accepting the parting of their ways, until they came to rest at her new resting place. They fell silent as they sat, waiting to let go. He whispered to her softly “I don’t want to see you no more. I couldn’t bear seeing you with another man.” She responded in silence. She understood.
And that was that.
He returned home.
She stayed in her new home.
Break ups are the hardest
And who knew love could be so strong between a man and his old car.
I thought about them this morning when i woke up. What comes to mind is Carl Thomas' song "I Wish" and its chorus:
And I wish I never met her at all
Even though I love her so
She got love from me
But she still belongs to someone else
In time, he'll be fine. But it just ain't easy.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
28 days til 29: Just Passing Through: So Much to Learn, So Little I Know
I have a leadership challenge with my youth at my church and it’s bugging me. I’m putting together a plan to communicate more frequently with the parents and youth who do not come to Wednesday night bible study (where most of my communication takes place) and are not on the email list. I’m not much of a phone person (calling people at the house and such), so outside of church announcements, they don’t have a way of knowing what is going on with the youth department (and they won’t call me- won’t even ask me when they see me at church) so they feel disengaged and not included. I have my feelings about this, but I’m looking for a way to reach them too, because they’re important and need their needs met as well. I need more face time with them, at their convenience and am trying to figure out how to do that. I see a couple of them during rehearsals on Thursdays. The others I only see on Sunday morning.
On the flip side, maybe I can’t reach them. Maybe they’re just complaining and the problem is that they don’t want to be engaged. And maybe they should reach towards us more. My personality, however, makes me exhaust all my personal capabilities of reaching them.
Just something on my mind this morning.
On the flip side, maybe I can’t reach them. Maybe they’re just complaining and the problem is that they don’t want to be engaged. And maybe they should reach towards us more. My personality, however, makes me exhaust all my personal capabilities of reaching them.
Just something on my mind this morning.
I need some special prayer for this. So if you're the praying type, remember us as you go before the Father.
A friend and I discussed ways to reach youth, so by week’s end I’m going to do these three things:
1. Bebo group page-
2. Facebook group page
3. Call every household on my list just to check in.
A friend and I discussed ways to reach youth, so by week’s end I’m going to do these three things:
1. Bebo group page-
2. Facebook group page
3. Call every household on my list just to check in.
It’s a start…how does the song go? "Reach out and touch somebody's hand, make this world a better place if you can."
I’m feeling like a community organizer… does that mean I’ll be president one day?
Like Mos Def Says… there is a way… no matter what they say…
I’m feeling like a community organizer… does that mean I’ll be president one day?
Like Mos Def Says… there is a way… no matter what they say…
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