A Moment of Silence

The collective heart rate of a full transatlantic flight rises in time with the blood curdling squeals of a 3-4 year old child in full hysterics. The lungs on that kid! And the stamina… She has been going full steam like this for a solid hour now, showing no signs of letting up.

The lady across the isle from me peers judgingly back at the helpless Asian family a few rows back. “Something’s wrong there,” she mouths to her husband. “Something’s very, very wrong.” The girl seated directly in front of the family looks especially pleased.

“Whaaaahhh! Whaaahhh! Daddy! Daddyhhh! Let me down! Let me down! Please let me DOWN!” Upon which Daddy proceeds to walk her down the aisle towards us. Lovely. “Daddyhhh! Daddyhhh! Let me down! Let me down!” He lets her down and she does a classic belly flop, kicking and screaming on the floor. So he picks her back up. Another lady hands her a lollipop, to which she responds by screaming even louder (if that were possible) and kicking some more. The lady with the judgmental eyes cringes and backs away in disdain from the flailing feet on Daddy’s hip.

Later, when she returns from the restroom, I overhear the lady tell her husband the stewardess has never seen anything like it. “In her 15 years of service, this is the worst she has seen.”

The jarring noise tapers off. Finally! I take a deep breath of relief, grateful for the moment of silence. Did she finally tire out and fall asleep, I wonder, hopefully. But no, we’re not that lucky. The restroom door opens, and the horrendous sound returns at full blast.

Half way through the meal, she finally does appear to fall asleep, and silence returns, only interrupted by the occasional outcries of the several other young children on board. But they all are angels compared with this monster child. I can almost hear their mothers thinking how their little Bobby really is perfect, after all. A cumulative sigh is felt as peace returns to earth and my fellow passengers and I snooze for a couple of hours.

Eventually, breakfast is served and the monster awakes and bellows with renewed energy while we circle London in a holding pattern. Fortunately, the torture is almost over and our flight lands without incident, though some nerve endings arrive a little more fried than when they took off.

Home, Sweet Home

Today we're leaving!

First, Sweden for two weeks. Then Norway the week of Christmas. Be back next year!

Can't wait to see everyone... :D

Holiday Cheer

The neatest thing happened to me the other day. I am in line at the McDonalds drive-thru for a quick bite to eat. Exhausted after a 12-hour whirlwind workday the day before and little sleep, I get to the check-out window. The guy hands me a receipt. I look at it, confused, wondering why he is handing me the previous customer’s receipt. When I hesitate to take it, he says in broken English: “She pay for you.” She what? Who? “Yes, the lady, she pay for you.” He gestures to the car in front of me at the pick-up window. I flash on a TV commercial where a woman picks up a guy’s dry-cleaning bill as a way of coming on to him. But this doesn’t seem to be a come-on. It’s a female driver with the whole family in the car. “Yes, she say is for Merry Christmas or something.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just smiled, honked my horn and waived at the car as it disappeared out of view. It wasn’t a large sum of money. Just a small, random act of kindness. But it totally brightened my day. This is what the “holiday spirit” is all about, isn’t it? People being kind to one another and picking up one another’s tab at the fast food joint. I immediately decided I’m going to pay it forward and do the same thing to someone else. I’ll let you know how it goes! If any of you have had a similar experience, or done something of this kind, I’d love to hear about it.

Why don’t we all go out and spread some more holiday cheer?!

COLD

It's cold.

Most of the snow melted and then it got cold again, so now we're stuck with the ugly brown edges and patches of crusty, rotten snow. So much for the winter wonderland of a week ago!

-7°C , 19°F is really not so bad but here it FEELS so much colder, it seems. I complain about the heat in the summer, but for some odd reason, I seem to complain more about the cold in the winter than I ever did growoing up in Norway. It's like the cold just bothers me more here. It's mental for the most part - you just don't EXPECT it to get very cold here, so psychologically, you're not prepared for it. And you don't dress for it, either. Plus, this cold is like a humid cold that pierces to the bone, unlike the dry cold that you can stand in much lower temperatures. And then you add the wind chill factor...

So, here is a tribute to the Norwegian spirit I received from David:

+15°C / 59°F
This is as warm as it gets in Norway, so we'll start here.
People in Spain wear winter-coats and gloves.
The Norwegians are out in the sun, getting a tan.

+10°C / 50°F
The French are trying in vain to start their central heating.
The Norwegians plant flowers in their gardens.

+5°C / 41°F
Italian cars won't start.
The Norwegians are cruising in cabriolets.

0°C / 32°F
Distilled water freezes.
The water in Oslo Fjord gets a little thicker.

-5°C / 23°F
People in California almost freeze to death.
The Norwegians have their final barbeque before winter.

-10°C / 14°F
The Brits start the heat in their houses.
The Norwegians start using long sleeves.

-20°C / -4°F
The Aussies flee from Mallorca.
The Norwegians end their Midsummer celebrations. Autumn is here.

-30°C / -22°F
People in Greece die from the cold and disappear from the face of the earth.
The Norwegians start drying their laundry indoors.

-40°C / -40°F
Paris start cracking in the cold.
The Norwegians stand in line at the hotdog stands.

-50°C / -58°F
Polar bears start evacuating the North Pole.
The Norwegian army postpones their winter survival training awaiting real winter weather.

-70°C / -94°F
The false Santa moves south.
The Norwegian army goes out on winter survival training.

-183°C / -297.4°F
Microbes in food don't survive.
The Norwegian cows complain that the farmers' hands are cold.

-273°C / -459.4°F
ALL atom-based movement halts.
The Norwegians start saying 'Faen, it's cold outside today.'

-300°C / -508°F
Hell freezes over.
Norway wins the Eurovision Song Contest.

SNOW

Friday morning we woke up to a foot of snow outside our door. Although I admit this is nothing compared to the Scandinavian conditions of my childhood, here in Tulsa this kind of snowfall is highly unusual.

So for those of you who didn't hear about our historic snow storm, below is an article from NewsOK.com for your amusement:

Record-breaking storm
The system that spawned severe thunderstorms Wednesday and transformed into a strong snowstorm Thursday reached historic proportions in the process, the National Weather Service said Friday.

Before the precipitation ended early Friday:
The 10.4 inches of sleet and snow measured at Tulsa International Airport for Thursday brought the monthly total to 10.5, which was the highest monthly snowfall for November. The previous mark was 5.6 inches in 1972.

The 10.4 inches Thursday was the highest daily snowfall for November, beating the 4 inches in 1972.
The normal annual snowfall for Tulsa is 9.1 inches, surpassed by this week's single storm.

Tulsa also set a record for maximum rainfall for the day with 1.14 inches. That broke the mark of 0.73 inch set in 1981.

There also were records set in other northeastern Oklahoma cities and towns.
Bartlesville recorded 15 inches of snow, beating the highest daily snowfall mark for November — 6 inches, set in 1923 and tied in 1951.

Golden Impressions

Thanksgiving

Sitting in a chaise lounge on the deck of the bunk house. Pleasant notes from Louis Armstrong and Norah Jones float from the small radio on the railing. Sun on my face. Want to write something. Peaceful. Sleepy. Golden leaves in heaps on the ground. Golden thoughts. Warm, golden air. Small breeze rustling through leaves. Distant sounds of children. Car pulls up with pleasant people. Life is golden.

Inspiration takes time. Time, peace, rest. Silence. In silence inspiration grows. Quiet silence. Peaceful, quiet time. Brown smell of earth and leaves. Golden smell. Scent of gold. Quiet voices. Peaceful conversation. Trees. Shadows. Rustling leaves. So sweet. So pleasant. So golden.

Bond. Casino Royale. Daniel Craig’s Bond is masculine, brutish and elegant all at the same time. Know all those Bond girls? Well, before all those, turns out there was a Bond woman. Smart, sophisticated, lovely. Not girl. Decidedly woman. After she stole his heart, he gave her what was left of his soul. And then she died and his heart and soul died with her, never to be captured again. Leaving him the cold, detached and calculating man he became. More polished, yes. Charming to the hilt. But less human.

Pang! Gunshot. Piercing the silence. Again! Echo rolls through the valley and back. Strange, round bug crawling on my jeans. I brush it off. Laughter. Distant laughter and voices. Bits of conversation floating across my ears. Pang! Pang! Someone target practicing. Upsetting the silence.

Again, silence takes over. Snoring by Michael. In the loft with window open. Sun still golden on my face but shadows longer. Footsteps in leaves. Crunch. Crunch. Birds chirp. Water swishing in pewter basin. Kay: “Jim’s going coon hunting tonight.” Jeanie: “How can you go squirrel hunting at night?” “Coon hunting.” “Oh, coon hunting.” Michael humming now. Humming like a lion. Hums when he feels happy. Happy hum. Golden hum.

The Prestige

This weekend I saw the movie The Prestige – a great film, definitely recommended! I won’t give anything away; just say that the movie tells the story of two rivaling magicians, both haunted by a tragic accident in their youth. When one comes up with an impossibly brilliant new illusion, the other’s tormented competitiveness turns dangerously obsessive. The plot twists rapidly between characters and throws a fast-paced shuttle back and forth in time.

The film is based on the 1995 Christopher Priest novel by the same title and stars Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, Michael Caine and Scarlett Johansson. The film features David Bowie, and is directed by Christopher Nolan, who also directed Caine and Bale in Batman Begins.

A great magic trick has, according to Caine’s character, who builds illusions for magicians, three parts: The Pledge, where something apparently ordinary is presented, The Turn, where the ordinary is turned into something extraordinary, and The Prestige, where the audience sees something shocking they’ve never seen before.

The real magic of this film is that in the end you realize you have not merely been watching a movie – you have just witnessed an expert magic trick. The story’s Prestige occurs when you comprehend the truth that was right there in front of you the whole time, but somehow manages to elude you. This intricately woven tapestry of misdirection and deceit, belief and disbelief keeps you guessing – right until the very end.

Are you watching closely?

Fashion Fallout

Fabulous fall fashion is here! Full bottoms and slim on top, or big tops with skinny bottoms. This year is all about the new silhouettes. Belts are a must. They’ve traveled north from hip to waist after a sizzling vacation down south.

The waistline, mind you, is the most important body part this season. And legs, of course. You gotta have’m if you think you’ll rock the new dresses, whose hemlines have traveled quite a bit too. The sweater dress, cozy and comfy, could be worn over pants, leggings or bare gams.

The styles we lowly consumers finally get to touch and feel in stores this fall were showcased at designer fashion shows in Paris, Milan and New York many months ago. Crowded with glitterati wearing their newest, shiniest personalities; runways grazed by sleek physiques in the latest belted trench coats and round-toed boots. Limelight hogs swarming like moths around a streetlamp while stone-faced, ashen waifs snaked down the catwalks clad in heavy black and grey with hints of red.

Recently though, at the Madrid Fashion Week, models that were too skinny were banned from the runways! One small step for womanhood, one giant leap for the fashion industry.

What we cover our bodies with is obviously more than covering. Aside from shielding us from the elements and sparing us the embarrassment of public nudity, clothing plays the role of mask, uniform, hideout, statement, expression, projection, decoration. What are we hiding from? What are we saying? What statement do we make? And why do we care. So much?

Fashion sense is not just about clothing. A fashion forward individual has gotta show off the season’s featured body part, and if you don’t have one, buy one. Be it a smaller waist, fuller chest, straighter nose, poutier lips, archier eyebrows – or why not just buy a new face and body altogether. I mean, look at Pam Anderson or even Ashlee Simpson. Works for them, right?

The fallout of the fashion industry is that no one is good enough anymore. Striving for so-called perfection so many go under the knife in search of the elusive ideal look.

Like the look means anything. It ‘s nice gift wrap. But what’s the gift? What is beneath all those layers of packaging?

A kid on Christmas sees his presents and gests all excited. Does he admire the wrapping and display the presents neatly in his room, so that all his friends can admire the beautiful gift wrap someone gave him? Right. He tears off the wrapping , crumples it up and throws it away. He wants to see what’s inside.

How disappointing if he found a box full of greed, selfishness, cheating, lying, and self-indulgence! Someone called it whitewashed graves. All pretty on the outside and rotten on the inside.

But looking fabulous doesn’t necessarily exclude being fabulous on the inside. Just remember, shine your inside first, then let the inside shine through. If you want to wrap the whole package in some fine fall fashions and be fabulous inside and out – more power to you. I say, live fabulously!

Fall Is In The Air!

This morning, for the first time this year, I felt that unmistakable scent of fall in the air. Ahhhh… It is one of those crisp, clear days that makes you want to go for a bike ride. No more 100-degree weather – or so we hope. Time to plant pansies, mums, and decorate in yellow, red, and brown.

Here are some lyrics for the occasion, written by Michael of Jazzcow:

Ground

You hold yourself against the wind.
People pass and you pretend,
To be deep in thought, but you're thinking about them.
Was it righteousness or sin.

You hold yourself against the wind.
You feel it coming back again.
You turn up a smile and you pretend,
To have no need, to need no friend.

Autumn leaves falling to the ground.
Coloring your pain,
In yellow, red, and brown.

So you turn the other cheek.
And you find yourself slow to speak.
You try to be strong, but you are weak.
You never seem to find the things you seek.

Autumn leaves falling to the ground.
Coloring your pain,
In yellow, red, and brown.

Autumn leaves falling to the ground.
Coloring your pain,
In yellow, red, and brown.

-Michael Staub-

Nine-Eleven

It’s 9/11 – the 5-year anniversary of horrifying terrorist attacks on the Pentagon and World Trade Center.

I remember the day it happened. It was working at my college Admission’s Office at the time, sitting at my desk when the department secretary came rushing in from the lobby where she had been working the receptionist’s desk. “We have been attacked,” she exclaimed – “America has been attacked!”

We all gathered in front of the TV in the lobby and watched in disbelief the footage of the 2nd airplane flying into Tower II. The silence, the bewilderment, the suspense of the time that elapsed before suddenly, that enormous structure began to implode upon itself, crumbling, crashing, down, down, down… until a monstrous cloud of dust was all that was left.

Nobody got much more work done that day. Groups of us were standing around talking, guessing, watching the coverage. Most of us had a hard time tearing ourselves away from the TV screen for more than a few minutes at a time. There had been reports that all air traffic had been grounded, and that at least one more plane had been commandeered and was in the air with potential terrorists on board. And that that plane later crashed somewhere in Pennsylvania.

I’ve heard it said about those who remember Kennedy being shot – that they will always remember where they were and what they were doing the moment they heard the news. That’s how 9/11 is for me. I wasn’t personally affected by the tragedy, in that I didn’t have any relatives or friends in New York at the time. But nevertheless, that day is etched into my memory.

The colors are a little blurred now. I don’t remember what I wore. But it was a moment that changed the world. That I will always remember.

Leave Jesus Out of Pop Culture, Please

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the fact that Jesus never started a religion. He was born a Jew, raised a Jew, lived as a Jew, and remained a Jew throughout his life. He never told anyone to stop being Jews, or any other religion for that matter. He didn't say “you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my religion.”

He also never discussed music, whether it was good or bad, or what kinds should be considered sinful. He never told anyone not to dance. He never told anyone what not to wear. And he never told anyone not to drink alcohol. In fact, as we all know, he transformed water into wine. He apparently thought this was a more appropriate beverage for a good party.

Jesus sure seemed more concerned with religious hypocrisy than legislating morality. He was concerned with people’s hearts, not their exteriors. And he encouraged his followers not to worry so much about such outward things, but rather make sure they were doing well on the inside.

In fact, those who only cared about appearances, he called “white-washed tombs” and likened them to dirty dishes that had been polished on the outside but were full of rotten remains. And who were they, again? Oh yeah. The preachers and religious teachers.

He said they didn’t practice what they preached. He claimed they did everything to draw attention to themselves. That they always wanted the most important seat in the house and loved titles. That they tithed but neglected “the more important matters of the law – justice, mercy and faithfulness.” The similarities to today’s Christian celeb list are almost shocking. And Jesus said they were full of “greed and self-indulgence,” of “hypocrisy and wickedness.”

The church pendulum has swung from open warfare against pop culture to here lately pretty much adopting every aspect of it. Only about a decade after it was “pop.” It seems really interested in packaging the Gospel in a culturally relevant wrap. And somehow, the bigger and flashier the packaging gets, the smaller the contents become. It’s just like the supermarket!

Jesus never tried to be “relevant.” He never tried to look like, act like, or sound like the pop culture of the day. I’d say he was counterculture. Did he influence his culture? Sure. But he never meddled in people’s personal lifestyle preferences, such as taste in music, clothing or beverages. He cared about the well-being of the whole person.

He was into content and left the packaging alone.

Hibernation

Yeah. I feel alive. Everything’s been better lately. I feel like a person. A real human being. Feel like I’ve been slowly waking up from a long sleep, or something. My brain started functioning again. I’ve been having ideas. Funny… didn’t know my brain was asleep, but now that it is starting to wake up, I realize it’s been hibernating for a long time. It is stretching, yawning, sniffing the air... its circulation has slowly been increasing. I don’t think it is fully awake yet, but it is getting there. It is sensing that the winter is almost gone and there’s a scent of spring in the air. (Really, fall is what it is, but spring works better with the metaphor, hehe…) It is inhaling it. Drinking it in. Filling its lungs with it. Preparing to launch into a new season.

It’s not that anything on the outside has changed. Things are really no better or worse than they were months ago. But on the inside I feel alive. I feel like a part of me that has been hidden and numb for a long, long time is starting to stick its head out there, starting to show up. It’s like the real me finally decided to come forward.

Time might have something to do with it. Looking back, always working more than one job and running ragged all the time has probably not been a great recipe for a spicy inner life. Now, I feel I finally have time to be me. I’m a slow person. I require a lot of time. It takes awhile for me to do most things. I do them well, and thoroughly, given enough time. With too little time I neglect to even try. It’s that all-or-nothing mentality that has been plaguing me all my life. But I’m realizing, even being me requires a lot of time. Time to think. Time to get in touch with my emotions, my fears, my desires, my… thoughts. They require time. Simple as that.

This I Believe

I used to believe in the power of God and Dad.

When as a kid I implored my parents for a pet, I was persistent. Asking for smaller and smaller pets as I figured this would increase my chances. After begging for a parakeet one night, Dad told me to pray and believe God for it.

So I did.

And sure enough, God and Dad came through, and I was granted permission to get a parakeet, on the strict condition that I alone take care of it.

And I did.

I devoted myself to my new pet and the many more parakeets, hamsters, mice, a rabbit and fish to come.

As a teenager, I wanted to go on a multi-nation mission trip, and again, Dad told me to believe God for the money to go. And again, God and Dad came through. Somehow, he was able to come up with the amount needed even though we didn't have much.

God and Dad were on a pedestal in my world.

They were powerful, benevolent beings to be respected and admired. Over time, through a series of unfortunate events, involving various members of the family, Dad was shot down from his high post, and with him, went God.

Dad and I have had a civil, yet distant relationship for years, and so have God and I. Though I often longed for a warmer, closer connection, I found myself unable to speak their language, as that would involve entering their reality.

God and Dad create reality. I am familiar with both their realities, but am currently living in the world of flesh and blood, of action and reaction, choice and consequence. I can relate to God’s spiritual reality as transcendent of this world, as above and beyond that of the senses, but I have difficulty entering that reality these days.

Perhaps it is not so much difficulty as it is unwillingness. It has taken me years to realize that I have always related to God through the reality of Dad. In our home, Dad’s word was law, and to Dad, the law was God’s word.

Ergo, Dad’s word equals God’s word. Dad’s reality becomes God’s reality.

When I no longer could, or would, speak Dad’s language, as it were, I found I lost my ability to communicate with God. When I stopped traveling to that remote and distant planet of Dad’s version of reality, I also stopped entering into the realm I had come to know as the presence of God.

So I spent a bunch of years trying to untangle what was God and what was Dad.

I’m still not totally sure half the time, but so far, I’ve come up with this:

God is good and so is Dad. God, however, has omniscient perspective, and Dad does not. God’s definition of good is often what we think is bad but ends up being good anyway… What Dad means for good often ends up bad. Dad fails and God doesn’t.

Dad wanted to teach me to believe in God – to trust in God and not in people. Inadvertently, Dad taught me to believe in himself. To expect him to come through with a solution to my problems. When he fell short of my expectations, I didn’t know what to believe.

It took me a long time to learn that there’s nothing wrong in needing people. Not to fix your problems or live life for you. But it is through people God shows his love, shows his will, interacts with us. No man is an island. People are the voice by which God communicates – most of the time. God became man. He chose the human form. He made friends.

Now, I believe in the power of God.

I believe this power is everywhere in the physical reality God created. In the air, in the mountains, in the streams – God is in the flowers, the trees – and in the people I find myself surrounded with. So, go ahead, talk to me. Engage me. I want to hear from God.

About Time

Time is running away.
It’s like it committed a crime or something, its running so fast. Why is time in such a rush, anyway?! I think it has something to do with watches and computers.

They say what you don’t know won’t hurt you. Once upon a time, when time was young and lazy, we didn’t know all that much, so we must not have been hurting that much either.

Today, though, it’s a different story. In this age of information, we’ve got pretty much every piece of information we might ever want, literally at our fingertips. Just type your question into the computer, and BAM! There it is. The answer. Most diseases have been cured – although new ones keep cropping up. Those damned diseases. Won’t ever quit. Anyway, my point being, we’re well on our way to taming nature and conquering the universe.

But there’s one thing we’re still trying to figure out, and that is time. How the heck does it do that?! That thing. Slow and fast, slow fast, fast slow. When you want it to stand still, it becomes a sky rocket. When you want it to go ahead and hurry the bleep up, it becomes this syyyyyyyyyyrupy substance that barely moves.

Time is rushing like water.
That is, when it is in a rush. Which is most of the time. Rush, rush, rush… new directions, new challenges, new everything. You never see the same piece of time again. Never. It changes constantly, renewing itself, becoming something different. Time heals everything, they say. Well, that may be true. It’s just how the body heals itself. It just piles layers and layers of new cells on in place of the old, broken ones, and bam! You got a scab. And bam! You got a scar. And – maybe not bam, but eventually, maybe, scar’s gone, too. At least much less visible. With time.

Time is a strange creature.
A ball that bounces around with no apparent plan or direction. I pick it up in my hand to study it, to find out what it really looks like, must try and do something with it, then, all of a sudden it is gone like the spirit in Aladdin’s lamp; unnoticed it has vanished and run out between my fingers like sand in an hour glass.

Before, when time was just a round slice that trotted along, round and round in circles at a comfortable speed, there was no problem. But then the railroad was invented and the trains had to be on time. We had to start keeping track of time. Connections and communications were developed. Time was synchronized all over the world. Then we got digital watches. And that’s when time really got in a rush.

Ever watched a stopwatch count time? All those tenths and hundredths racing, galloping, flying ahead, crumbling away at time. Nothing left behind. A burning fuse being eaten away. And then came the nano-seconds. Computerized time tracking, because we had now broken time up into such small pieces that the human brain could no longer relate to it (just read Alvin Toffler’s Time Wars described in the Antioch Group - recommended.) No wonder we get stressed out!

Time to slow down.
People have never had as much spare time as in our time. And never have people complained as much about lack of time. But we need not forget that the same industry that provides us with all our “time saving” gadgets, also gives us plenty of stuff to waste our “saved” minutes and hours on. What would we do without TV or videogames, for crying out loud! Old people probably wonder why young ones always seem so stressed when they have their entire lives ahead of them to do whatever it is that they need to do. Truth of the matter is, they are the ones with a reason to stress out, with so little time left. But then, again, they were born of a different time.

Time to be. On time.
Which I rarely am, even though I always try to be. Why is it so difficult for me to be on time?! I think it has something to do with always trying to cram too much stuff into my time space. You know, that room of time we all have at our disposal. “I don’t have time,” we say. But that’s definitely a lie. If there’s one thing that is absolutely evenly divided between every human being, it is time. Rich or poor, high or low – we all have that same size room of time to furnish as we wish. Our problem is always trying to fit too much furniture in without thinking of leaving enough living space.

Enjoy the time you have. Be. Measure out some time to live.

It’s about time.

Miracle-Gambling and the Cult of Quick-Fix Christianity

Why is it that some Christians are so obsessed with miracles? Jesus did say that certain "signs" and "wonders" should follow those who believe - yet it sure seems these days, too many believers follow these so-called miracles and not the other way around. The Benny Hinns of the world seem to thrive on the expectation in their followers that something miraculous will happen and in an instant fix all their ailments - often caused by decades of poor diet and unhealthy lifestyles.

People speculate in financial miracles, too. They spend years mismanaging their money, all the while praying for a miracle to wipe out their debt and fix their problems. The problem, however, is plain and simple irresponsibility.

When a relative or friend finally steps in and bails them out, they chuck it up to a “miracle” – “God” came through in a powerful way.

Sure, I believe God is full of grace and we all could use a second chance from time to time - hey, we're all human, so we're going to screw up now and then.

But waiting around for a miracle instead of doing your part to fix your own situation - or better yet - listening to those around you who warned you not to make the stupid decisions that got you into the mess in the first place - is the ultimate form of laziness.

Always wanting God to come through with a quick-fix solution is nothing other than a gambling habit.

Put your coin in the slot machine and expect a big win in return!

Christians seem especially prone to be caught in pyramid schemes and multi-level marketing ploys that promise quick profits with minimal effort. Always the sucker for a quick fix, they pay the required fees and setup charges, all the while feeding their “sponsors.”

The next step is pestering those in their own circle of friends and relatives, to the point of alienating them all – if they weren’t already alienated by these people’s constant expectancy that someone else (read: “God” in the form of the people in their lives) will pay off their debts, pick up when they crash, and basically take care of them since they refuse to do so themselves.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in miracles. I believe that in rare and extreme circumstances, God chooses to break his own natural laws and overstep nature – make something supernatural happen. But mostly, he trusts us to play by the rules he established - to sow and reap, work with our hands, and to use our God-given brains to develop medicine, make money, and create a future for ourselves and our offspring.

How about putting your money on that horse.

Marriage

Been married 7 years today to a wonderfully complex, highly creative and deeply feeling person, a man I love more today than the day I met him, a man I respect and admire more the longer I live life with him. Who ever said marriage is easy? It isn't. But when you're with the right person, and you look at your relationship as something of value to be constantly maintained and developed, and you put in the time and effort it takes to make it work, the rewards are undeniable. I love you deeply and truly, my One and Only Love.

Scribbles

I am going to attempt to scribble some legible thoughts and random musings... As I'm not the most consistent person in the world when it comes to following through on personal projects and ideas, bear with me if my postings end up being infrequent and scattered. It'll be an experiment. Hear hear. What?