We…but Not Me

Once again God is using my kids as a tool for teaching me, growing me, stretching me…and it’s not comfortable.

Through their very different and very passionate and indeed honorable perspectives, I am challenged to look deeper at the circumstances our nation is facing and try to see past myself.

I hear people on one side of the political spectrum staunchly insisting that we must go and do what is needed to eradicate a hideous threat to peace and genuine freedom in the world. I’d like that…but…being a father of a soldier, I seem to see it differently than I did a few months ago. Before, saying “we must” didn’t risk what is precious to me.

I hear people on the other side of the spectrum feverishly arguing that we have a moral obligation as a nation to take in those who flee from the very threat that they have witnessed first hand and provide for their needs regardless of the cost. But, like many of us trying to make ends meet in a difficult economy, I don’t know how to squeeze more tax dollars out of what I have. Saying “we must” is easy when it doesn’t risk my comfort.

I think that’s the core of many of our issues. I am so quick to say “we” when I really mean “they.” Continue reading We…but Not Me

I Don’t Belong Here

Tori and I are in Honduras!

I’m fascinated.

And I’m petrified.

My work is very much centered around communication. I’m a speaker. I’m a writer. I’m a vessel of information to the people I serve – sometimes sharing insights they may not have had, more often reminding them of truths they already know. My work is, at it’s core, to speak to God on behalf of men and then (and only then) speak to men on behalf of God.

Last evening I was locked up at the suggestion of going to buy a bottle of water and a can of Pringles. I am utterly comfortable communicating with just about anyone in English. I feel isolated and very dependent upon my son and daughter-in-law and my wife (who has MUCHO MAS Spanish skills than I) to even make a simple purchase.

Continue reading I Don’t Belong Here

Possum in a Can

A couple of nights ago I couldn’t get to sleep. So I got up and decided to revisit a project I had been working on that evening. I heard something rustling around in the garage but, upon some investigation, could not tell what it was.

The next day, hoping to rectify a malfunctioning turn signal, I went out to the garage. I remembered the midnight noise and did some investigating. It seems I had left the lid open on the large trash can I keep in the garage. It was positioned right next to my new portable grill. I began to pull the trash can out of the way and was startled by a slight movement inside the can.

I’m going to go ahead and own up to the fact that there was momentary loss of constitutionary control of demeanor.

Upon closer investigation, this is what I saw:

Possum_in_a_Can.JPG

Continue reading Possum in a Can