One of my favorite movies is called, "WestWorld". I think it was made in the late 1970's or early 1980's. The movie is about a special place where families could go on vacation and the setting was the old Wild West. The cool thing about it was that everything was "computerized" (this was years before computers were commonplace.) The whole area was run by an underground bunker of computers and wires and computer programmers who oversaw everything that happened via hidden video screens.
The great thing about "WestWorld" was that everything in it was programmed to give a positive response to whatever your wanted to do. You could live in this world for a few days and be anything you wanted to be and do anything you wanted to do in this "other world". If you wanted to hit on the girl in the barroom, then you could, and she would be amiable to do whatever you desired. If you wanted to get in a bar-fight (I think this must be for the guys), then you could do that and you didn't have to worry about "losing" the fight. Everyone and everything in the scenario was fake except for you, the person paying for the vacation.
Yule Brenner was the bad guy in WestWorld. He was the notorious evil gunslinger and he would always end up picking a fight with the men on their "vacation". He was a ruthless killer and the "fastest gun in the west". But, it didn't matter. You could take him in a gunfight, even if you didn't know a Colt 45 from a roll of masking tape. He was programmed for you to outdraw him and kill him and you would get to hear all the "fake" barmaids ooh and aah over you. You were "the man".
One day something went terribly wrong in WestWorld. A guy (a "real" guy, a vacationer), got into a showdown with Yule Brenner. ..... and Yule Brenner outdrew the guy and killed him...dead,... on the spot. (I guess they, (the WestWorld programmers). figured it didn't matter that there were real bullets in the guns..... I mean, what could happen?....
Everything started to unravel. There was a "glitch" in the computers and all the bad guys and bad girls and even "nature" (yes, they even had rattlesnakes).... all these animatronic creations were set loose to do as they were programmed, except that they were no longer programmed to let the vacationers "win". It was complete chaos, (and good movie-making entertainment for me).
I got to thinking about this one day and suddenly realized how much it related to "ChristianWorld". Christian World is made up of mostly fake stuff, just like it was in WestWorld. ChristianWorld is a special place you can visit (especially on television on a late Sunday night). In ChristianWorld you can have all your heart's desires met. Want a new Cadillac? You got it. Want perfect health? Got it...no problemo. Rolex?... Easy peasy. Want a God? Very cool... There's a God,.... and He's programmed to always answer your prayers exactly the way you want them to be answered. Everything in ChristianWorld is programmed to satisfy your every desire and whim. Beneath the surface, in their underground bunkers are these men (and women) who are handsomely paid to make sure you have the best "gol-durn" vacation you ever had!... (There's no real cussing in ChristianWorld....at least not while the programmers are on duty.)...
I use to visit "ChristianWorld". I thought it was a cool concept. I bought into it for a time, ....even took a vacation there once or twice. I remember the last time I went. Yule Brenner picked a fight with me. Inexplicably, he outdrew me. Luckily I just suffered a flesh-wound and made it out alive. After that I never went back.
I talked to God about it..... I told him I didn't like "ChristianWorld". I thought it was evil, deceptive, and that it could easily lead some people to think that it was how the world (and God), actually operates. No, I didn't like ChristianWorld,.. not one bit.
God told me He didn't like it one bit either, that He didn't have anything to do with it, really. I was glad to hear that. For some reason it made me feel...safer.
I can live with a flesh wound here and there,...... I just can't live with a fake, puppet God....
Monday, May 10, 2010
Stories
Writing these blogs has caused me to think back on a lot of stuff in my life. I read about a guy who keeps a journal, and every time he thinks of something from his childhood, he writes it down in the journal. He says he doesn't remember much about is childhood, about his past, and he's afraid that he won't remember his "life"..... so he's writing it down the best he can as he remembers bits and pieces.
I remember, when I was really young, years before my dad became an alcoholic and somewhat of a terror to the family..... when he would tell me these "stories" about his life growing up. He spent his childhood days growing up in the Missouri Ozarks and his younger adult years working on a ranch in Texas. He would tell great stories about hunting and fishing, roaming the still-uncultivated woodlands of the Mark Twain National Forest, his encounters with black bears, bobcats, and hidden caves in Missouri and Rattle Snakes, deserts and scorpions in Texas. As a young child I was fascinated by his stories and I can still remember saying often, "Dad, tell me a story. Tell me again about the "Texas Tornadoes" and the "Armadillo and the rattlesnake".... or whatever the story happened to be. They were all great stories, especially to a young boy. My aunt, his sister, had the same amazing ability. She told me some amazing stories about her life and kept me spellbound for hours on end.
I think it's sad that we, as a society, seem to have lost the whole art of story telling. We are a people of the "T.V." We still listen to (and watch) "stories", but they aren't, in reality, "Stories".
What we see on television are mostly fictitious accounts, created in the imagination of a writer sitting in a room inventing a story, to be acted out by people who are not really the characters they are portraying. Actors acting like other people who act out stories that have nothing to do with the real world. It's really a weird thing if you stop and think about it.
Someone asked me once why I wanted to be a counselor. I told them that I like to hear people's "stories".... what makes them tick, what made or makes them the people that they are today. I like their stories because I grew up listening to real stories and so I think I have a natural appreciation for it. Sometimes, by listening to folks tell their stories I can catch a glimpse of something that is missing from their story. Something like "adventure" or "awe" or "unconditional love". Some stories are filled with sadness and loss. Some are really funny. Some are just normal roads that have taken an unwanted detour and need to be redirected onto the main highway of life.
Your life,... my life,.. is a story,.. filled with other "stories". I hope you remember some of yours. I hope, if you have the time and inclination, you will share some of your stories with other people, especially your kids. Take a vacation from the television and video games and tell them about some of the events of your life. Tell them a funny story, an adventure story, a sad story... it doesn't matter which it is as long as it's true and real and part of who you are. You are passing something special down to the next generation Tell your stories...before the art and magic of the telling gets lost forever....
I remember, when I was really young, years before my dad became an alcoholic and somewhat of a terror to the family..... when he would tell me these "stories" about his life growing up. He spent his childhood days growing up in the Missouri Ozarks and his younger adult years working on a ranch in Texas. He would tell great stories about hunting and fishing, roaming the still-uncultivated woodlands of the Mark Twain National Forest, his encounters with black bears, bobcats, and hidden caves in Missouri and Rattle Snakes, deserts and scorpions in Texas. As a young child I was fascinated by his stories and I can still remember saying often, "Dad, tell me a story. Tell me again about the "Texas Tornadoes" and the "Armadillo and the rattlesnake".... or whatever the story happened to be. They were all great stories, especially to a young boy. My aunt, his sister, had the same amazing ability. She told me some amazing stories about her life and kept me spellbound for hours on end.
I think it's sad that we, as a society, seem to have lost the whole art of story telling. We are a people of the "T.V." We still listen to (and watch) "stories", but they aren't, in reality, "Stories".
What we see on television are mostly fictitious accounts, created in the imagination of a writer sitting in a room inventing a story, to be acted out by people who are not really the characters they are portraying. Actors acting like other people who act out stories that have nothing to do with the real world. It's really a weird thing if you stop and think about it.
Someone asked me once why I wanted to be a counselor. I told them that I like to hear people's "stories".... what makes them tick, what made or makes them the people that they are today. I like their stories because I grew up listening to real stories and so I think I have a natural appreciation for it. Sometimes, by listening to folks tell their stories I can catch a glimpse of something that is missing from their story. Something like "adventure" or "awe" or "unconditional love". Some stories are filled with sadness and loss. Some are really funny. Some are just normal roads that have taken an unwanted detour and need to be redirected onto the main highway of life.
Your life,... my life,.. is a story,.. filled with other "stories". I hope you remember some of yours. I hope, if you have the time and inclination, you will share some of your stories with other people, especially your kids. Take a vacation from the television and video games and tell them about some of the events of your life. Tell them a funny story, an adventure story, a sad story... it doesn't matter which it is as long as it's true and real and part of who you are. You are passing something special down to the next generation Tell your stories...before the art and magic of the telling gets lost forever....
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
My Life In A Convent
Yes, it's true. I use to live in a Catholic Convent...
A few years ago we bought a house and were in the process of selling the house we were in and moving to our new home. Unfortunately, the timing was off and we sold the house we were in and had to move out before we could get into the house we had just bought. Quite a quandary.
The Lutheran Church I grew-up in had just purchased this old Convent and was in the process of remodeling it for a new ministry. We inquired about perhaps moving in there for a few weeks until we could get into our new home ...and they agreed. They figured it was good to have someone there to look after the place until they could get their remodeling crew all lined-up. So they gave us the keys and we moved right in...
It was a huge place. It almost felt haunted because it was so big and old and quiet and it had so many rooms. Our cat went into a hole in the wall and we didn't see her for 3 days. When she finally emerged she was totally covered in dirt and cobwebs.... weird...
We slept upstairs and every morning I would say to my wife, "Did you hear that weird organ music in the middle of the night?"... It would always freak her out.
My two boys were pretty young, 8 and 10 years, I believe. It was cold that time of year so we couldn't do much outside. There was a fairly large room with built-in chairs on each side. I might have been The Chapel... probably was. Anyway, my kids and I invented this game that we played in the chapel. We called it "Peakball". I don't know how it got it's name. You know how a child's mind has such a goofy imagination. Maybe even one of my kids named it... can't say for sure.Peakball was just an old sock taped-up with masking tape. We played it like a soccer game, where one person had to kick the "ball" and hit the opposite wall (being guarded by another player) to score a point. It was great fun... I thought it might be sort of "sacrilegious", being in the old Chapel and all. I thought I heard God's voice one day while we were playing.... "He shoots!... He Scores!"...
After that I thought it was cool with Him.
I got up to shave one morning, went into the bathroom, and found that the mirror had been painted over....strange. So, I went into another bathroom (I think there were about 7 bathrooms in this place)...and THAT bathroom mirror had been painted over also!... It was the same with ALL the bathrooms... mirrors painted over... I must have gone out to my car to shave in the rear view mirror. I asked someone about this phenomenon and they told me that the "Sisters" who lived there painted over all the mirrors. They didn't want to look at themselves. They though it would be make them "prideful". They wanted to stay humble. They even had a little round tube thingy that, if they got a meal or message or anything from the outside world, whatever was delivered was stuck into this slot and they would spin it around into the next room to be received... so they never actually let anyone "see" them....or them see anyone else!..
You know, ... it's a weird thing about pride. The Bible tells us that it's embedded into the human heart. There's "good" pride,.. like when your kid hits a home-run in little league and you're proud of him (or her),.. and then there's this "bad" pride where you think you're pretty hot stuff, God's gift to women, or men, or humanity... kind of feeling.
Some people look in a mirror and are prideful, while others can look into that very same mirror and see nothing but shame. I use to be one of those people.... the ones who see shame.. and blame... and guilt...when they look into a mirror.
That was before I realized that I had been forgiven by God for all the crappy stuff I had done. He had forgiven me simply because I asked Him to. The hard part for me wasn't "Has God forgiven me?".... but, "Have I forgiven myself?"..... I think we're a lot harder on ourselves than God even thinks of being. Nowadays I can look into the mirror just fine. My life has been truly blessed. I can say to the man in the mirror, "You're a jerk. You don't deserve any of this!".... and the man looking back at me always says, "No, you use to be a jerk, and too frequently you still do jerky stuff, but, you're not the man you once were. And, yes, it is true that you DON'T deserve any of this good stuff!... it's all grace. Just don't forget, ....It's ALL grace...
So... live with it..."
A few years ago we bought a house and were in the process of selling the house we were in and moving to our new home. Unfortunately, the timing was off and we sold the house we were in and had to move out before we could get into the house we had just bought. Quite a quandary.
The Lutheran Church I grew-up in had just purchased this old Convent and was in the process of remodeling it for a new ministry. We inquired about perhaps moving in there for a few weeks until we could get into our new home ...and they agreed. They figured it was good to have someone there to look after the place until they could get their remodeling crew all lined-up. So they gave us the keys and we moved right in...
It was a huge place. It almost felt haunted because it was so big and old and quiet and it had so many rooms. Our cat went into a hole in the wall and we didn't see her for 3 days. When she finally emerged she was totally covered in dirt and cobwebs.... weird...
We slept upstairs and every morning I would say to my wife, "Did you hear that weird organ music in the middle of the night?"... It would always freak her out.
My two boys were pretty young, 8 and 10 years, I believe. It was cold that time of year so we couldn't do much outside. There was a fairly large room with built-in chairs on each side. I might have been The Chapel... probably was. Anyway, my kids and I invented this game that we played in the chapel. We called it "Peakball". I don't know how it got it's name. You know how a child's mind has such a goofy imagination. Maybe even one of my kids named it... can't say for sure.Peakball was just an old sock taped-up with masking tape. We played it like a soccer game, where one person had to kick the "ball" and hit the opposite wall (being guarded by another player) to score a point. It was great fun... I thought it might be sort of "sacrilegious", being in the old Chapel and all. I thought I heard God's voice one day while we were playing.... "He shoots!... He Scores!"...
After that I thought it was cool with Him.
I got up to shave one morning, went into the bathroom, and found that the mirror had been painted over....strange. So, I went into another bathroom (I think there were about 7 bathrooms in this place)...and THAT bathroom mirror had been painted over also!... It was the same with ALL the bathrooms... mirrors painted over... I must have gone out to my car to shave in the rear view mirror. I asked someone about this phenomenon and they told me that the "Sisters" who lived there painted over all the mirrors. They didn't want to look at themselves. They though it would be make them "prideful". They wanted to stay humble. They even had a little round tube thingy that, if they got a meal or message or anything from the outside world, whatever was delivered was stuck into this slot and they would spin it around into the next room to be received... so they never actually let anyone "see" them....or them see anyone else!..
You know, ... it's a weird thing about pride. The Bible tells us that it's embedded into the human heart. There's "good" pride,.. like when your kid hits a home-run in little league and you're proud of him (or her),.. and then there's this "bad" pride where you think you're pretty hot stuff, God's gift to women, or men, or humanity... kind of feeling.
Some people look in a mirror and are prideful, while others can look into that very same mirror and see nothing but shame. I use to be one of those people.... the ones who see shame.. and blame... and guilt...when they look into a mirror.
That was before I realized that I had been forgiven by God for all the crappy stuff I had done. He had forgiven me simply because I asked Him to. The hard part for me wasn't "Has God forgiven me?".... but, "Have I forgiven myself?"..... I think we're a lot harder on ourselves than God even thinks of being. Nowadays I can look into the mirror just fine. My life has been truly blessed. I can say to the man in the mirror, "You're a jerk. You don't deserve any of this!".... and the man looking back at me always says, "No, you use to be a jerk, and too frequently you still do jerky stuff, but, you're not the man you once were. And, yes, it is true that you DON'T deserve any of this good stuff!... it's all grace. Just don't forget, ....It's ALL grace...
So... live with it..."
Plastic Surgery
I had to go in for a doctor visit the other day... so, I took along a really good book to read (Blue Like Jazz, by Donald Miller... I highly recommend it), and was looking forward to some quiet time while I was waiting for my name to be called.
Suddenly, right at 9 a.m on the button, the television, bolted to the wall directly above my head , began blaring..."The Regis And Kelly Show"!.... loud enough that folks could hear it all the way through the building and the McDonald's about a block away.
I tried to just keep reading and simply ignore the inane blathering above my head. But, something about their conversation caught my attention. They suddenly started talking about "plastic surgery",.. and how, breast enhancements were becoming "passe". The NEW trend was in "calf" enhancement and , "upper arm" implants. (I kid you not).... Folks had commented so much on Michelle Obama's sleeveless blouses and how great her "arms" looked that now women wanted arms like hers... or "calves" like.... I don't know..... calves?.....(the barnyard variety)....?
Anyway,... it made me almost sick,.. and mad. They were talking about all these implants and I was thinking to myself, "What they really NEED is a BRAIN implant!"....
I had recently seen a program on t.v. where entire families in Asia were living on floating boats, eating fish out of a river full of diesel fuel, garbage and human waste. Raising families on 5 bucks a day by selling fish from that same nasty river. And here we are, worried about how we "look". Amazing.
Plastic surgery. That's a good name for it. Plastic.... Like when something isn't really real. We use to say, "Hey, is that real?".... and someone would answer forlornly, "No, sorry,...it's just plastic".
I think it's a real gauge of where our society is. We, as a society, are so fixated on "appearance". Women have to have bigger (smaller sometimes, but most of the time "bigger")...breasts, and firmer "butts", and better skin and nails and teeth and eyelashes....calves and upper arms. Men have to have more hair, six-pack abs, bigger.... well, you figure it out.... The only thing it seems we don't need bigger or more of .... ego.
I realize I'm venting. I normally try to write a blog that is more.... more,... uplifting?....
But, sometimes you just gotta vent. All I'm saying is: If you are one of those people thinkin about having plastic surgery (unless you've been in a fire or accident and need to be restored to some "normalcy".... please, I beg you... don't!... That goes for face-lifts too. Have you actually "seen" Kenny Rogers lately? His wax figure in Branson, Missouri looks more lifelike that he does.
We all love Martin Luther King Jr. We love to think about what a great man he was, how he changed segregation, how he stood up (and was persecuted for standing up for) some amazing things. We love to quote him. It makes us sound kind of cool, ...I think...
Martin Luther King Jr. said: "A man (or woman) should not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character."
I agree. I also think we shouldn't judge "ourselves" by the content of what is "under" the skin, especially Silicon Valley "implants". We all need to work on our "character". We need "character" implants.
That's what I love about God and The Church, real community, family, and 12-Step Programs. They help develop character. They don't care about your bra size....
Someday, if God ever asks me, "What did you do with your life, .... I don't want to stand there like and idiot and say, "Well, let's see... I got these really cool hair implants.... and I got these great looking abs...and "calves"... don't forget those!... Spent a fortune on them!"....
And God would look at me sadly and say something, like.... "I see... but, I don't think you really understood the question. The question was: "What did you do with your.... LIFE"?.....
Suddenly, right at 9 a.m on the button, the television, bolted to the wall directly above my head , began blaring..."The Regis And Kelly Show"!.... loud enough that folks could hear it all the way through the building and the McDonald's about a block away.
I tried to just keep reading and simply ignore the inane blathering above my head. But, something about their conversation caught my attention. They suddenly started talking about "plastic surgery",.. and how, breast enhancements were becoming "passe". The NEW trend was in "calf" enhancement and , "upper arm" implants. (I kid you not).... Folks had commented so much on Michelle Obama's sleeveless blouses and how great her "arms" looked that now women wanted arms like hers... or "calves" like.... I don't know..... calves?.....(the barnyard variety)....?
Anyway,... it made me almost sick,.. and mad. They were talking about all these implants and I was thinking to myself, "What they really NEED is a BRAIN implant!"....
I had recently seen a program on t.v. where entire families in Asia were living on floating boats, eating fish out of a river full of diesel fuel, garbage and human waste. Raising families on 5 bucks a day by selling fish from that same nasty river. And here we are, worried about how we "look". Amazing.
Plastic surgery. That's a good name for it. Plastic.... Like when something isn't really real. We use to say, "Hey, is that real?".... and someone would answer forlornly, "No, sorry,...it's just plastic".
I think it's a real gauge of where our society is. We, as a society, are so fixated on "appearance". Women have to have bigger (smaller sometimes, but most of the time "bigger")...breasts, and firmer "butts", and better skin and nails and teeth and eyelashes....calves and upper arms. Men have to have more hair, six-pack abs, bigger.... well, you figure it out.... The only thing it seems we don't need bigger or more of .... ego.
I realize I'm venting. I normally try to write a blog that is more.... more,... uplifting?....
But, sometimes you just gotta vent. All I'm saying is: If you are one of those people thinkin about having plastic surgery (unless you've been in a fire or accident and need to be restored to some "normalcy".... please, I beg you... don't!... That goes for face-lifts too. Have you actually "seen" Kenny Rogers lately? His wax figure in Branson, Missouri looks more lifelike that he does.
We all love Martin Luther King Jr. We love to think about what a great man he was, how he changed segregation, how he stood up (and was persecuted for standing up for) some amazing things. We love to quote him. It makes us sound kind of cool, ...I think...
Martin Luther King Jr. said: "A man (or woman) should not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character."
I agree. I also think we shouldn't judge "ourselves" by the content of what is "under" the skin, especially Silicon Valley "implants". We all need to work on our "character". We need "character" implants.
That's what I love about God and The Church, real community, family, and 12-Step Programs. They help develop character. They don't care about your bra size....
Someday, if God ever asks me, "What did you do with your life, .... I don't want to stand there like and idiot and say, "Well, let's see... I got these really cool hair implants.... and I got these great looking abs...and "calves"... don't forget those!... Spent a fortune on them!"....
And God would look at me sadly and say something, like.... "I see... but, I don't think you really understood the question. The question was: "What did you do with your.... LIFE"?.....
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Epiphany
I grew up listening to a lot of music. We use to sit around an old piano and sing, "Fly Me To The Moon", "April Love", "Sentimental Journey", "Moon River",...etc; all the old beautiful standards of the 30's, 40's and 50's.... I still think they're great songs.
Then, one day, when I was in my early teens, I heard "Yesterday" by The Beatles. I had an epiphany. I had never actually seen the guy who "wrote" the song actually "sing" the song, and Paul McCartney really delivered an amazing performance of it on the Ed Sullivan Show. I didn't even like The Beatles until I heard "Yesterday".... and it changed my life. I knew from that moment on that I would never look at songs quite the same, and I wanted to be part of that "magic" of creating such a beautiful thing.. such wonderful art.
I've written songs ever since, the first one when I was 15 years old. It wasn't a very good song, but it was my baby, my creation, and I thought it was the most beautiful song in the world. Today I can't (maybe I just don't want to) remember it.
The best definition I've read, of an "Epiphany", is this one: A sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, commonplace occurrence or experience.
My "experience" listening to "Yesterday" changed my life and set me forth in a direction that I never would have normally set-out on. It made me a "songwriter" for life. That was "my" art. For others it's painting, or sculpture, or photography. The possiblities are seemingly endless.
I've had four "Epiphanys" in my life. The first one I just described. The others?... The day I fell in love with my wife. I never knew that I could love another human being even more than I loved myself. It was an amazing thing. Then, when my children were born and I experienced the miracle of life... life from life, God's big fingerprint to tell us He's here with us. And God... God,... that was the fourth one. The day I realized, for the first time in my life, that the big hole in my soul was shaped like a snow-white,... Dove. (You see, ... everything is song-related)... :-)
"One the wings of a snow-white, dove... He sends His pure, sweet love.. Like a sign from above,... on the wings of a dove"..... (an old song by Ferlin Husky)... Do you think Ferlin Husky is a real name?.... hard to make up something like that.....
Anyway, that was my fourth epiphany. Realizing my need for God and asking Him to come into my life. (I thought it was just to "help" me... I didn't know it would "change" me!)....
I've heard alcoholics and addicts talk about having their epiphanys... their "a-ha" moment. That moment when a big light-bulb came on in the dark recesses of their souls and they, for the first time, came to see that they were, indeed, "powerless" over their addiction(s) and totally helpless in fighting the biggest battle of their lives. Step Number One....
I don't know how to create an "epiphany". I don't think that's even possible. It's like trying to describe what the color "blue" tastes like. If you've tasted it, then you KNOW. But if you haven't, well then... it's futile.
I wish everyone could experience an epipany. Especially those moments that change the course of a life for the better. Especially the one where God becomes something more than an Old-Testament Sunday School lesson. The one where He becomes a "person" you can know and talk to and vent your frustrations to, ....entrust your very soul to. I pray that happens for everyone who reads this. I think that's the only real answer,... to "pray" for the light, the "a-ha" moment... when the meaning becomes clear.. when the sun rises over the horizon and you say, "There it is!... THAT'S what I was looking for!"... When everything becomes "new"... for the very first time...
Then, one day, when I was in my early teens, I heard "Yesterday" by The Beatles. I had an epiphany. I had never actually seen the guy who "wrote" the song actually "sing" the song, and Paul McCartney really delivered an amazing performance of it on the Ed Sullivan Show. I didn't even like The Beatles until I heard "Yesterday".... and it changed my life. I knew from that moment on that I would never look at songs quite the same, and I wanted to be part of that "magic" of creating such a beautiful thing.. such wonderful art.
I've written songs ever since, the first one when I was 15 years old. It wasn't a very good song, but it was my baby, my creation, and I thought it was the most beautiful song in the world. Today I can't (maybe I just don't want to) remember it.
The best definition I've read, of an "Epiphany", is this one: A sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, commonplace occurrence or experience.
My "experience" listening to "Yesterday" changed my life and set me forth in a direction that I never would have normally set-out on. It made me a "songwriter" for life. That was "my" art. For others it's painting, or sculpture, or photography. The possiblities are seemingly endless.
I've had four "Epiphanys" in my life. The first one I just described. The others?... The day I fell in love with my wife. I never knew that I could love another human being even more than I loved myself. It was an amazing thing. Then, when my children were born and I experienced the miracle of life... life from life, God's big fingerprint to tell us He's here with us. And God... God,... that was the fourth one. The day I realized, for the first time in my life, that the big hole in my soul was shaped like a snow-white,... Dove. (You see, ... everything is song-related)... :-)
"One the wings of a snow-white, dove... He sends His pure, sweet love.. Like a sign from above,... on the wings of a dove"..... (an old song by Ferlin Husky)... Do you think Ferlin Husky is a real name?.... hard to make up something like that.....
Anyway, that was my fourth epiphany. Realizing my need for God and asking Him to come into my life. (I thought it was just to "help" me... I didn't know it would "change" me!)....
I've heard alcoholics and addicts talk about having their epiphanys... their "a-ha" moment. That moment when a big light-bulb came on in the dark recesses of their souls and they, for the first time, came to see that they were, indeed, "powerless" over their addiction(s) and totally helpless in fighting the biggest battle of their lives. Step Number One....
I don't know how to create an "epiphany". I don't think that's even possible. It's like trying to describe what the color "blue" tastes like. If you've tasted it, then you KNOW. But if you haven't, well then... it's futile.
I wish everyone could experience an epipany. Especially those moments that change the course of a life for the better. Especially the one where God becomes something more than an Old-Testament Sunday School lesson. The one where He becomes a "person" you can know and talk to and vent your frustrations to, ....entrust your very soul to. I pray that happens for everyone who reads this. I think that's the only real answer,... to "pray" for the light, the "a-ha" moment... when the meaning becomes clear.. when the sun rises over the horizon and you say, "There it is!... THAT'S what I was looking for!"... When everything becomes "new"... for the very first time...
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Uncle Ray's Potato Chips
It had been a long day of recording. I had been laying down tracks for my "Flying Sheep" CD, had spent a good part of the day recording sheep sounds at the local fairgrounds (that's a whole 'nother blog right there)..... and so I really hadn't eaten much that day. I was driving home late at night and stopped into the local "Get It And Get Out" store... (That's what I like to call those places). It was just a truck stop/mini mart type of thing.... Anyway, being the health-food nut that I am, I headed straight for the candy/potato chips/beef jerky/Ho-Ho's aisle...
I was rifling through a display of potato chips and saw that they had some called, "Ray's Potato Chips". Hmmmm... never tried those before, ... so I grabbed a bag and headed for the checkout. And then,... while I was walking towards the counter, I just happened to turn the bag around and read the back of it. I was shocked at what I saw. I was dumfounded. I was dismayed... I was taken aback, I was blown-away...... (O.K.., I think you get the picture)..... It's a lot easier if I just let you "read" the back of the potato chip bag for yourself:......so here goes....
"On a very cold January day in Detroit, Bob Jenkins and a fellow Detroit Edison electrician were driving to a job site. Bob saw two young men by the roadside and asked his buddy to stop the truck. They were both shivering. Neither young man had a coat, sweater, or gloves. They looked very cold. Bob took off his coat and put it on one of them and handed his knit cap and gloves to the other. When he got back in the truck, his buddy said, "What are you going to do? We have to work outside at the Sub Station." Bob said, "I'll be o.k."
Bob has always been my hero. I have seen his kindness and consideration for others all my life.
My brother is now with our Lord Jesus Christ. He is experiencing what our Lord has promised us all,... life everlasting in Paradise for all who believe in Him."
It was hard for me to fathom that someone would actually write a eulogy for his brother and then have it printed and distributed nation-wide on a bag of potato chips! Ray must have really loved his brother...
As another "Bob Jenkins" it was a sober reminder that one day, I too, shall shed this mortal coil (don't ask me about "mortal coil" stuff.... I read it somewhere and it sounded kind of cool). Anyway....I just pray that IF someone takes the time to write a eulogy for me that they have noticed the changes in my life over the years, my feeble attempts to live-out the God-given life that I am blessed with... to hopefully to have seen Jesus working in me. As someone once said, "If I'm ever arrested for being a Christian, I hope there's enough evidence to get me convicted".
Thanks Ray, for reminding me of my tenuous grip on this life, and the miracle that awaits in the life to come.... eternal life through Jesus Christ.
I had to smile at Ray's parting words:
"You have a choice when choosing potato chips and snacks. From my family to yours, thank you for choosing Uncle Ray's."
I was rifling through a display of potato chips and saw that they had some called, "Ray's Potato Chips". Hmmmm... never tried those before, ... so I grabbed a bag and headed for the checkout. And then,... while I was walking towards the counter, I just happened to turn the bag around and read the back of it. I was shocked at what I saw. I was dumfounded. I was dismayed... I was taken aback, I was blown-away...... (O.K.., I think you get the picture)..... It's a lot easier if I just let you "read" the back of the potato chip bag for yourself:......so here goes....
"On a very cold January day in Detroit, Bob Jenkins and a fellow Detroit Edison electrician were driving to a job site. Bob saw two young men by the roadside and asked his buddy to stop the truck. They were both shivering. Neither young man had a coat, sweater, or gloves. They looked very cold. Bob took off his coat and put it on one of them and handed his knit cap and gloves to the other. When he got back in the truck, his buddy said, "What are you going to do? We have to work outside at the Sub Station." Bob said, "I'll be o.k."
Bob has always been my hero. I have seen his kindness and consideration for others all my life.
My brother is now with our Lord Jesus Christ. He is experiencing what our Lord has promised us all,... life everlasting in Paradise for all who believe in Him."
It was hard for me to fathom that someone would actually write a eulogy for his brother and then have it printed and distributed nation-wide on a bag of potato chips! Ray must have really loved his brother...
As another "Bob Jenkins" it was a sober reminder that one day, I too, shall shed this mortal coil (don't ask me about "mortal coil" stuff.... I read it somewhere and it sounded kind of cool). Anyway....I just pray that IF someone takes the time to write a eulogy for me that they have noticed the changes in my life over the years, my feeble attempts to live-out the God-given life that I am blessed with... to hopefully to have seen Jesus working in me. As someone once said, "If I'm ever arrested for being a Christian, I hope there's enough evidence to get me convicted".
Thanks Ray, for reminding me of my tenuous grip on this life, and the miracle that awaits in the life to come.... eternal life through Jesus Christ.
I had to smile at Ray's parting words:
"You have a choice when choosing potato chips and snacks. From my family to yours, thank you for choosing Uncle Ray's."
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Co-Dependent Part 2
We had a middle-age woman in our family counseling session talking about how she would get in her car at night and cruise the part of town where there was a lot of drugs and crime, hoping to find her son, hoping to rescue him. She could imagine herself storming the "drug-house" in the middle of the night, scooping up her son, bringing him home, nursing him back to health, ... if she could only "rescue" him..... all would be right with the world.
Parents, especially women, are more often than not, lead by the heart... and are often led into this type of insane behavior. Fathers, I believe, are just as affected by a son or daughter lost into the world of drugs, but they tend to keep their emotions more bottled-up inside. Someone has to be the "strong one" and try to keep things in control.
Life with an addict, whether it's a son, daughter, husband, wife, (father or mother),...even a close friend, can become a roller-coaster of ride of emotions. We don't respond well when we can't "control" the situation. We tend to so immerse ourselves into the lives of those we want to control that we fail to look after ourselves in the process.
It's been scientifically proven that someone who is in a co-dependent relationship with an addict often becomes as sick, or sometimes, more sick, than the addict themselves. The addict is happy to stay on the "Chemical Vacation" and is oblivious to the hurt and anxiety that they are causing to those they love. The non-addict family member (at least not chemically an addict), is caught up in all the emotions of hurt, anger, betrayal, frustration, worry,...etc., but, they don't have the same escape from reality that the addict has. This can manifest itself in physical symptoms such as migraine headaches, ulcers, muscle spasms, spastic colon, more colds and flu, sinus conditons, ...etc., ...just a general decline in physical health from all the worry and sleepless nights and anxiety about the future. Waiting for that 3 A.M. phone call from the police... or the hospital... night after night after night.....can take it's toll.
When an addict finally reaches their "bottom" and gets into the process of recovery, they normally get connected to a healthy support system (such as Alcoholics Anonymous), where they can learn about their disease, the recovery process, and find tools to help them navigate the path ahead. For the co-dependent family member this is just as important... to find a healthy support system... to help them understand the dynamics of addiction and the role they should play in supporting (and often NOT supporting), the addict in their life. Whether the addict ever seeks help of not, it is vitally important for the family to be involved in a family support group or some type. Family members need to be counseled in effective ways to deal with the ongoing problems associated with having an addict/alcoholic loved-one. Al-Anon and Alateen are two very important programs for family members.
The bottom line is this: We, whoever we may be, or even how much we care and try to do, do not have the power to control the life of another person. This is a hard truth to accept. Often, in our efforts to "control" the addict/alcoholic, we are actually making it harder for that person to seek the help they so desperately need. We don't help the addict by constantly bailing him or her out of bad situations which are caused by their addiction. Just like the addict eventually has to do, family members need to learn to "Let go and let God" be in control.
There is a lot of good information on the internet that speaks about Co-Dependency. If you find yourself relating to this situation I hope you will do some research on the subject, reach out and get help for yourself and the other family members who are suffering ...along with the addict. Addiction... IS...a family disease.....
Parents, especially women, are more often than not, lead by the heart... and are often led into this type of insane behavior. Fathers, I believe, are just as affected by a son or daughter lost into the world of drugs, but they tend to keep their emotions more bottled-up inside. Someone has to be the "strong one" and try to keep things in control.
Life with an addict, whether it's a son, daughter, husband, wife, (father or mother),...even a close friend, can become a roller-coaster of ride of emotions. We don't respond well when we can't "control" the situation. We tend to so immerse ourselves into the lives of those we want to control that we fail to look after ourselves in the process.
It's been scientifically proven that someone who is in a co-dependent relationship with an addict often becomes as sick, or sometimes, more sick, than the addict themselves. The addict is happy to stay on the "Chemical Vacation" and is oblivious to the hurt and anxiety that they are causing to those they love. The non-addict family member (at least not chemically an addict), is caught up in all the emotions of hurt, anger, betrayal, frustration, worry,...etc., but, they don't have the same escape from reality that the addict has. This can manifest itself in physical symptoms such as migraine headaches, ulcers, muscle spasms, spastic colon, more colds and flu, sinus conditons, ...etc., ...just a general decline in physical health from all the worry and sleepless nights and anxiety about the future. Waiting for that 3 A.M. phone call from the police... or the hospital... night after night after night.....can take it's toll.
When an addict finally reaches their "bottom" and gets into the process of recovery, they normally get connected to a healthy support system (such as Alcoholics Anonymous), where they can learn about their disease, the recovery process, and find tools to help them navigate the path ahead. For the co-dependent family member this is just as important... to find a healthy support system... to help them understand the dynamics of addiction and the role they should play in supporting (and often NOT supporting), the addict in their life. Whether the addict ever seeks help of not, it is vitally important for the family to be involved in a family support group or some type. Family members need to be counseled in effective ways to deal with the ongoing problems associated with having an addict/alcoholic loved-one. Al-Anon and Alateen are two very important programs for family members.
The bottom line is this: We, whoever we may be, or even how much we care and try to do, do not have the power to control the life of another person. This is a hard truth to accept. Often, in our efforts to "control" the addict/alcoholic, we are actually making it harder for that person to seek the help they so desperately need. We don't help the addict by constantly bailing him or her out of bad situations which are caused by their addiction. Just like the addict eventually has to do, family members need to learn to "Let go and let God" be in control.
There is a lot of good information on the internet that speaks about Co-Dependency. If you find yourself relating to this situation I hope you will do some research on the subject, reach out and get help for yourself and the other family members who are suffering ...along with the addict. Addiction... IS...a family disease.....
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