So, it has been like 100 years since I posted here, but I thought it would be a good idea to start blogging again. I think blogging is not only a good outlet for me, but it is a good way to keep up the writing.

Recently, I have been given the opportunity to learn a lot about myself and my commitment to family and stuff like that. Vincent, my grandson has moved into the house. His parents are residing elsewhere until they can find a more permanent place to live which will require the time consuming task of saving money.

So, we have become pseudo parents to our grandson for the time being. Well as you might imagine, this is a change of life. It is pretty major. We went from just watching him for a few hours on a Friday to becoming his full-time care-givers.

Here are a few things I am observing and reflecting on in regards to this Kairos moment in my life:

• I am underequipped to be a parent to a toddler.
• Tammy and I had it pretty good prior to Vinny’s arrival.
• I like the idea of not having any children to take care of anymore.
• I love this little boy who has barged into our life.
• I want to be the best parent-grandparent I can be for him — nothing else matters as much now.
• Tammy and I will have to come through this together or not at all.
• All 0f my other activities will have to come second to caring for him and my wife.

Here are a few questions I am seeking God about:

• What is God trying to teach me through this experience?
• How long will we be caring for him?
• When will Tammy and I find time for each other?
• Will it kill us to give him back to his parents in a month or two?
• Is God challenging my commitment to my family here?

There is much more to this situation than meets the eye.  I am reading a book now on raising a happy toddler (The Happiest Toddler on the Block) and it is giving me some good insight into what it is to be a 3 year old.  It has been two weeks now that we have been caring for him and it seems to be getting slightly easier.

He has only had a couple of bad days in that time.  So, I am beginning to see that he really has an easy temperament.  Knowing this helps me to place things in perspective when he is angry or upset.  I just find that I really want to do well at this, because I think that it really matters a lot for him.

Check out this article on BBC subtitled:  “A US businessman facing financial problems has apparently faked his own death by bailing out of his plane and letting it crash in a Florida swamp.”

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7825584.stm

Here’s a really interesting post I came across today.  I’m a little late to the game, since it’s Christmas-related, but it’s still very much worth the read.

Apparently the “wise men” or “magi” were actually adherents to the ancient religion known as Zoroastrianism, which bears some similarities to what today we would call Astrology.

It is in light of this information that Matt writes this post.  Here’s a few snippets, but definitely go over and read the whole thing (emphasis mine):

Now we come to the awkward part. Astrology – along with numerous other “magical” practices – was expressly prohibited by the Mosaic law, a code of conduct that had governed the Jewish people for centuries.  In other words, God revealed himself within a religious tradition that is outside of the confines of the Bible. Later in the Matthew narrative, he will do the same thing a second time, coming to the magi in a dream.

It is common for Christmas narratives to water down this oddity. Some translations – and almost all stories that are based on the biblical narrative – attempt to describe the magi as “wise men” or “kings.” Almost never are they characterized as astrologers, much less priests of a foreign religion.

Yet the writer’s clear implication – that, at this crucial moment in history, God acted, and even provided guidance to those who were a part of “another” faith, and even within the practices and frameworks of that faith – ought not to be skipped over lightly.

Clearly, something remarkable has happened here. To the writer of Matthew, God has initiated the process by which all people will be drawn to him, a move that will become explicit when Jesus later instructs his disciples to make disciples of all of the nations. In the meantime, God has apparently gone ahead of them, preparing the nations for the revelation of his redemptive work.

It’s a subtle twist on a familiar Biblical story, yet I believe it could have vast implications if we really think about it and don’t just breeze past the topic…

Read the rest of the post for Matt’s thoughts on some possible implications.

Aaron Niequist has a great post here, about the vast array of people with different personalities there are out there, in contrast with the relatively narrow slice of those personalities that end up “with the microphone”:

the beauty of humanity is that we’re all so different. . .experiences, perspectives, backgrounds, personalities, gifts, tastes, histories, etc. . .but the kind of people who end up with microphones tend to be a pretty narrow group. this is not a problem, as long as we’re aware of it. the individual who needs to be in front of people badly enough to get good at it is a certain kind of person with a certain kind of viewpoint. (i can say this as a firstborn attention-seeker!)

so i guess we need to continually remind ourselves that every one of us hear and speak from a certain bias. objectivity is quite hard to come by.

each news story we see was written by someone with a deep back-story.
how many music critics are frustrated musicians? might that influence their reviews?
pastors are often wonderful teachers of deep truth – as experienced through their eyes and lives.
O how we need piercing wisdom and profound humility.

This made me think of our community, and how we’re trying to create a place where lots of different people can come together and share their stories together. Where everyone’s opinion is valued, and everyone is given a chance to be heard.

We’re giving everyone the microphone.

So I got an email the other day from Martin saying he was under the weather a bit and someone in the email thread asked him to clarify how he was feeling. He said that he has a bit of man-fluenza. So I wrote back, “what? is that like the man-flu?”

I had never heard that term before so today, since I am enjoying a little time off, I did some research. watch the videos to learn more about this terrible scourge (from England) that currently I feel I may have gotten.

Connie and I had a few things in common we found. For one, we were both night owls. Tammy would tire out around 10:00 PM and Connie and I would stay up talking. We talked about a lot of stuff.

Tammy didn’t seem to mind this, and I kind of didn’t ask her either. Instead Tammy would go to sleep and then Connie and I would talk. We talked about her life. How she got thrown out of her house because of her jealous sister.

Occasionally Connie would say things like, “I really like talking to you. You really seem to understand me.” But I never saw anything in it. She seemed to just miss Ted a lot. I remember thinking that Connie looked really cute pregnant. But it was not a “Connie is so hot” thing. It was more of a “she is so cute” kind of thing.

After a week or so I noticed that Connie was cleaning the house right before I got home. I think at first I thought, she must have gotten the memo that Tammy missed. I really appreciated having her help out like that.

A few nights after I noticed it, she made a comment in one of our late night discussions.
“So, does Tammy do anything around here?”

I cringed. “Yeah, sure she does.”

“What?”

“Well, you know whatever needs to get done. She does laundry and dishes and stuff.”

“Well I never see it.”

“Well, I have been thinking about that very thing lately.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean is it really fair of me to expect her to clean up a lot around here? I mean just because my Mo…”

“…It’s her job John.”

“Well, now I don’t know. Why do you say that?”

“You know. You go to work all day and work right? I mean you aren’t just sitting around all day are you?”

“No of course not. Yeah, I work.”

“Well, as a woman staying at home, it is her job to keep your home clean. You shouldn’t have to do anything.”

I thought about what she said, and I realized that there was something deep down in me that absolutely agreed with that.

“Well Connie, what would you suggest I do? She isn’t taking any hints on this one.”

Connie gave what looked like a victory smirk and said “Just put your foot down John.” She leaned forward in her seat and looked at me. “Just be a man and let her know where her place is.”

I cringed again inside. Is this really how normal couples deal with their stuff? I had no idea. I did know that I was not about to get bossy and tell Tammy what to do just because of what Connie had said. I changed the subject of our conversation and then later went to bed.

The next couple of weeks went by pretty quickly. I did notice that Connie seemed to be more concerned about Tammy’s lack of housecleaning skills. You could tell because as Connie would wipe something off she seemed to be glancing at Tammy while she did it. There was something in the way she looked at Tammy that was a little scarey. I don’t think Tammy noticed.

I talked to Connie about it and said, “You know that I don’t expect any cleaning out of you as a guest in our home don’t you?”

“Sure John, I know.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“I just can’t stand a messy home. I was raised to be tidy and neat.”

“Well, I can understand that. I was raised the same way. I guess when you think about it Tammy was not raised with a great deal of housekeeping.”

“No she wasn’t. When I lived with her, her Mom would make a big mess in the kitchen and just leave it there for days.”
“Wow,” I said.

“John, just put your foot down with her and she will straighten up.”

I smiled and politely changed the subject. Later that night I felt a little guilty about talking to Connie about Tammy. I remember going to bed thinking that I was just going to have to lower my high standards. It was wrong of me to expect so much from her.

I was grateful for Connie. She seemed to understand my dilemma. Her suggestions of “putting my foot down,” were a bit much, but I thought she meant well.

Well, the fourth week of Connie’s visit rolled around and things were progressing on the war front. I came home one evening very tired from work. I was really exhausted and I was full of metal grindings and dirt. I just wanted to come home, get undressed, shower and hit the sack.

When I walked in the house, Tammy was in the living room watching TV. Connie must have been in her room at the opposite end of the house. I said hello to Tammy and went straight back to the room.

That is when it hit me. From the threshold to the back of the room was random debris from the house. Clothes, trash of all kinds, unpacked items that were not put up. It was basically a mess.

I looked on the bed and that is when I realized that the bed looked very much like the floor. It too was covered with clothes. Some were clean clothes, some were dirty. There were other random items on the bed as well.

And so instead of getting undressed and showering, I just lost it completely…

I walked straight to the bedroom window stumbling a bit on a pair of blue jeans. Using my thumbs I slid the latches on both sides of the window inward and opened it up wide. I could feel a gust of warm air rush past me.

I then began to methodically grab stuff off of the bed and toss it out the window while at the same time grunting loudly these words: “I .. am sick… of… this… garbage! This house will get clean if I have to throw everything out the window!”

Tammy heard me grunting and rushed into the room to see what was going on. I looked at her and said “What is it going to take to get through to you that this kind of a mess is completely unacceptable?” I said that as I tossed two coke cans out the window that were all half full at least.

Tammy’s eyes began to tear up and her face turned red and then she turned, and ran. My heart sank. She wasn’t supposed to do that. That’s not fair. She must stay and fight. She can’t leave. I got a moment of clarity and dropped the pair of socks and empty bag of Doritos I had in my hands poised for ejection. Then I took off after her. As I ran out to the living room I saw a figure sitting on the couch and I noticed that the front door was open.

I was relieved and then quickly disappointed to realize that the person sitting in the dark was not Tammy, but Connie. I opened my mouth to apologize to her for the dramatics, when she quickly said, “Just put your foot down John. She will comply.”

I ran past her and out the front door of the trailer. I could see Tammy walking out to the street. I had no idea where she was going, but I decided to follow her. She walked out to the street and then took a right and was walking toward the Base.

I caught up to her and just walked with her for a while.

“Hey,” I inquired.

“Hey.” She continued at the same pace walking towards the security gate of the air base.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” I did my best to keep up as cars drove past to my right side going the opposite direction.

“No, you’re right. I am a lousy housekeeper.”

“Hey, I never said that. Would you at least look at me?” The breeze kicked up by a passing conversion van tossed her hair up and then down. She was so pretty. Why did I have to blow up like that?

Tammy looked over at me as she walked and thankfully slowed her pace a bit. “Is that how it’s going to be John?”

“What?”

“Whenever you have a problem with me you’re just going to freak out and throw stuff?”

“No, no… I mean that’s not even me. I was just you know…”

“…What?”

“Just, putting my foot down, trying to lay down the law or whatever.”

“What?” Tammy stopped walking and turned to me. Rather than looking hurt or embarrassed she had an inquisitive look.

“You know, just telling you what I need and stuff.”

“No, what did you just say?”

“Laying the law…”

“… No, You said something else.”

“Putting my foot down?”

“Yes, that’s what you said. Is that something you felt you needed to do?”

“Well, yeah. I mean well… Oh I don’t know. Look I am sorry, I really don’t know what came over me. It’s just that in talking to Connie, and…”

“…You talked to Connie about this?” A few warm raindrops fell from the sky and landed on the tip of her nose and back of my hand. Both of us turned around and began walking back to the trailer.

“Yeah, I am so sorry. I realize now that I really am not that crazy about this issue.”

“She told you to ‘put your foot down?’”

“Yeah, those were her words actually.” Tammy stopped, grabbed my right arm and turned me towards her. A motorcycle zoomed by on my left and the guys on it turned his head to look back at us as he passed.

Then as Tammy’s eyes locked on to mine she said, “Connie told me that if you should ever, ‘put your foot down,’ she used those exact words; then I should leave. She said to never put up with that kind of talk from you.”

I swallowed hard, taking in the complexity of the situation as I stood there on the side of the road with Tammy. Then I put my arms around her. Someone driving a late model Datsun Pickup truck honked as they drove by. I continued hugging Tammy.

“Let’s go home,” I as much as shouted in her ear over the noise of the passing vehicle. Together we picked up the debris that littered our lawn outside of the bedroom window. We talked a lot that night. After making up and me apologizing once more we decided that there was something wrong with Connie.

What that was we did not know. We were concerned for her, but also angry that she had as much as pitted us against each other on purpose. What was she thinking? Why would she do something like that? We slept that night after a bit of making up and decided to just let it go.

The next day, I woke up and went to work. It was a pretty uneventful day. I called Tammy sometime during the day to reassure her that I loved her. I decided at that point that I could either have an immaculate home, or an immaculate bride. I chose Tammy. See there was no precedence set in our relationship for Tammy being this amazing house keeper. In fact when I would go over to her house I was shocked at how messy it was. It never clicked that Tammy was just a mess. How could I expect that just because the two of us got married she would somehow become this amazing house keeper?

I realized that I would rather live in a giant pile of garbage with her, than in a beautiful museum without her. That night I drove up into the parking lot and sensed that something was wrong.

I parked the car and walked up to the front door. I put my ear up to the door to listen and heard nothing unusual. Then I opened the door to the trailer.

There was Tammy sitting on the couch watching TV, and then there was Connie in the kitchen wiping something off. For a split second she seemed fine, almost happy, but then as she finished wiping off the countertop she began to cry. I mean tears, shaking, the whole red-in-the-face thing. She looked at me through crocodile tears and said “John, she’s doing it again…” She collapsed onto one knee and dropped the rag she was wiping with. “…I can’t do this all on my own…” Then she rocked her pregnant self back onto her rear and planted her face in her hands.

I was shocked and amazed at how quickly she could flip a switch and be this distraught and I just started laughing. I quickly covered my mouth, but my voice betrayed me as I snorted out loud. Connie looked up at me with surprise in her eyes.

“How did you do that Connie?”

She looked up at from the ground her eye brows wrinkled together as if to say what?

“How is it that you seemed perfectly fine when I walked in here, but as soon as you saw me you immediately broke down into this? Are those real tears? Amazing.” I was through with her drama. She was crazy. I knew it. Tammy knew it as well.

Connie just stood up, brushed herself off and marched off to her room. Tammy and I watched her from our places in the living room and as soon as the door closed to her room, we both broke out in silent laughter. We weren’t trying to be mean, but it felt good to have the upper hand on Connie. Each time our eyes met the laughter grew louder.

It had been nearly a month since Connie first arrived at our doorstep and it looked like Tammy’s Mom was not coming to get her. I didn’t know what to do with her. We decided that we should keep her around until she had a ride home, but just be very careful not to get pulled into her dementia.

But it was inevitable that we would get pulled in much further before I put her out on the street.

Twyla Tharp on the Subject of Motivation and Creativity

Interesting little video here about being creative, about what success and failure can mean for us, and about what it is that (should) motivate us to create whatever it is that inspires us.

Just thought I’d pass it along.

(HT: 43folders.com -> Merlin Mann)

Tammy found this picture and I had to post it. He’s my little buddy.

This is an excerpt from an autobiographical writing that I started in 2004:

You know they say that the youngest in the family always gets what they want.  They are always the ones that get the most attention.  They are the ones that get the best toys, etc.  But is that really true?

I was not by any means the youngest in my family, but I was for awhile.  I was the baby in my family all the way up to the age of 7.  And this is what happens to the baby.  Yes, they get attention, but it is more doting than anything else.  Does the youngest ever have any good information to offer the family?  No.  And if he did, no one would listen to him.

Does the youngest ever get taken seriously?  Occasionally, but most people only hear half of what he says, and that is only so they can build a platform for what they want to say.  Will the baby ever grow up?  No.  He will always be a baby and never add up to the sum of his older siblings.

Are these things all true?  Of course not, but, perceptions are everything so they say.  My perception was that in the thoughts and minds of my parents and siblings, I would always just be a baby.

I set out to prove them and everyone else wrong by getting married at the age of 19, right out of high school and joining the military.  I was going to be a grown up at the age of 19 if it killed me.  I had something to prove and I did it.

Tammy too was the youngest in her family and though I can’t speak for her, she certainly could relate to what I am saying.  I guess when you think about it, we were two babies playing house in the great state of Mississippi back in 1986.

Our first place to live was an apartment in downtown Columbus, Mississippi.  We were paying 200 dollars a month, all bills paid.  The apartment consisted of 2 rooms with a bathroom.  There was a Living Room/Kitchen combo, then a very short hallway where the bathroom entrance was to the right.  Further down the hallway was the bedroom.  It was small, but it was all we really needed at the time. 

My military salary was a whopping 650.00 a month, so this apartment cost almost a third of my income.  On top of that we were paying over 250 bucks a month for my 1985 Pontiac Sunbird.  That left us around 200 bucks a month for food and entertainment.

This meant that we spent a lot of time together at home and on base playing pool and shopping at the commissary.  Of course the first month we spent in our apartment with the doors locked to the world trying to meet a self-imposed quota on marital intimacy.

We lived in that apartment for 3 months or so before I realized that driving to the base would be much easier if we lived a little closer.  So Tammy and I went trailer shopping.  Just like the jewelry vultures that establish businesses around military bases to sell cheap jewelry at outrageous prices utilizing payroll deduction to make you feel like you are getting a real loan, there were trailer parks all over the perimeter of the base. 

They were guaranteed to lease you plenty of low quality living at a price you can afford.  And if you fail to pay up, they just call your first sergeant.  Well, we managed to find a trailer.  It was a nice one that had two bedrooms and two bathrooms.  It had a big kitchen and a decent sized living room.

We lived there for a few months when the first conflict occurred.  It was an unspoken conflict at first that slowly turned into a confrontation to be reckoned with.  See, I think many of us go into marriage with certain expectations of their spouse.  These expectations come from many places.  There are the expectations that come from being in a relationship with that person and then expecting them to maintain their end of the deal in very much the same way that you have grown to expect from them — thus an expect-ation.  Then there are those expectations we place on each other that we have derived from other relationships.

These other relationships range from simple dating relationships to the bonds formed within a person’s family – even their parents.  For instance, if your girlfriend 2 years ago liked to give you elaborate back rubs and you grew to like this, than you may expect that your current girlfriend would do the same. 

You might even encourage her to do so by saying, “Hey would you mind giving me an elaborate back rub?”  Then if she says, no you can respond with, “Well, my other girlfriend used to do this and she was really good at it.”  Okay, I would not recommend that.  Not that I ever tried that.

My initial expectations came from my Mom.  Before you get weirded out let me explain.  See my Mom is and always has been an exceptional house keeper.  The entire time we were growing up the house was a museum.  She kept it that way.  I rarely if ever saw her just sitting down enjoying television or anything.  She was always picking up or cleaning something.

Tammy was not meeting the expectations I had of her.  I expected her to be this amazing house keeper, just like Mom.  I remember coming home from work to find that the trailer looked a lot like it did when I left that morning.  I never said anything to Tammy because I was really just trying to figure out why she wasn’t cleaning up more.

Instead, my way to deal with the let down was to do the cleaning myself.  I remember picking up clothes, doing dishes, vacuuming the floors feeling a bit like a martyr.  I would go to work and then come home and clean, clean, clean.

It was tiring, but the clean house was worth it.  Tammy seemed content to let me do all the housework.  Of course I never sat Tammy down and said, “okay Tammy you will be doing most of the day-to-day house work, while I go in to work everyday.”  I just assumed she knew that she was supposed to do this stuff.

Well, in the midst of this silent conflict we were having, an old friend came in from out of town.  Her name was Connie.  Connie, a month before this point had married my best friend Ted.  Tammy and I attended the wedding and I was the best man while she was the matron of honor.  Our Youth Pastor presided over their wedding and then did an impromptu wedding for Tammy and I while Ted and Connie witnessed.

Anyway, Ted had joined the Navy and he was off in basic training when Connie came to visit us.  They were a lot like us in many respects except Connie was pregnant and they decided to get married because of that.

Well, Connie was dropped off by Tammy’s Mom and was to stay with us for a week.  We thought this was so cool.  Not only did we get to play house in real-life, but we got to show off for our friends.  It felt good inviting Connie to stay in our “Guest” bedroom.  She was about 7 months pregnant and she was going to give birth to a nearly ten pound baby.

Well, what was supposed to be a one week stay turned into a two week stay, then three and then nearly four.  Connie stayed with us almost a whole month before I ended up kicking her out of our home into the street nearly 8 months pregnant.

Yeah, that’s right. This freakin’ blog is for whatever I want! lol Here’s Vinny: