A man and his pet giraffe walk into a bar and start having a few quiet drinks. As the night goes on, they get pretty drunk. The giraffe finally passes out near the pool tables and the man decides to go home.
As the man is leaving, he's approached by the barman who says, "Hey, you're not gonna leave that lyin' here, are ya?"
"Hmph," says the man, "that's not a lion, it's a giraffe."
7/05/2003
this is funny, right?
well, I thought so....
oh...and a disclaimer...
I had someone express concern that there was an advertisement for Drinking Games on my blog site. I didn't see it myself, but I have a hunch the game wasn't "How Much Mountain Dew Can You Drink Before Your Bladder Explodes?"
The little blue ads on the right aren't part of a Christian ring or anything like that. It's a reciprocal ad program where I get 500 ads for every 750 I show. I'm willing to take part in this program if it helps get the message in front of those who wouldn't otherwise see it. And I'm not terribly concerned that the ads that are shown on my site for other sites that may not share my worldview will sway too many of my regular readers. However, if you ever come across anything that is overtly objectionable, please let me know, so I can take care of things.
Thanks for your understanding and cooperation.
The little blue ads on the right aren't part of a Christian ring or anything like that. It's a reciprocal ad program where I get 500 ads for every 750 I show. I'm willing to take part in this program if it helps get the message in front of those who wouldn't otherwise see it. And I'm not terribly concerned that the ads that are shown on my site for other sites that may not share my worldview will sway too many of my regular readers. However, if you ever come across anything that is overtly objectionable, please let me know, so I can take care of things.
Thanks for your understanding and cooperation.
and the nominees are...
upon visiting SBC.net, we've discovered that there are 44 SBC churches within a 10 mile radius of our home. In Colorado, there were four SBC churches within a 20 mile radius. It's not that we think God can only have a spiritual home for us within 10 miles of where we live, but we might as well check out what's nearby.
We've decided to visit FBC Cumming tomorrow. It's a bigger church. We've got a little church about a half mile away that we'll probably visit within a couple weeks. But they've got a HUGE cemetary behind the sanctuary. Something troubles me about that. Isn't church supposed to be a place where we focus on life in Christ?
Well, I better go to sleep, so I'm fresh and alert to worship with all my attention. I'm looking forward to hearing a good word from the Lord.
We've decided to visit FBC Cumming tomorrow. It's a bigger church. We've got a little church about a half mile away that we'll probably visit within a couple weeks. But they've got a HUGE cemetary behind the sanctuary. Something troubles me about that. Isn't church supposed to be a place where we focus on life in Christ?
Well, I better go to sleep, so I'm fresh and alert to worship with all my attention. I'm looking forward to hearing a good word from the Lord.
not raunchy enough for the big bucks
having recently read (in USA Today) that movie studios are aiming for a PG-13 rating (by adding a vulgarity to an otherwise tame children's movie [such as in last summer's Spy Kids sequel] or by cutting out justenoughblood/sex/violence/language to escape an R-rating), I took this quiz, provided by Quizilla, linked to by Chris at WIT, and found out my blog is rated:
What rating is your journal?
brought to you by Quizilla
So I guess I still won't have to be checking your IDs for a while longer.
What rating is your journal?
brought to you by Quizilla
So I guess I still won't have to be checking your IDs for a while longer.
a rose by any other name...
speaking of new names....
its funny how every once in a while, a series of events merge in a confluence of thematic obviousness that just demands to be blogged.
Cotter recently declaring his new name to us was the third such instance of name-related anecdotes that present just just a situation here.
Just before we left Colorado, we visited two families of friends. At the one friend's, we were suprised to see that they had added a new dog (acquired from the local Humane Society) to the family roll call. Leah, friend and family matriarch, told us the dog's name was "Cotton."
After a short time, Leah's son came in and immediately began calling Cotton "Cricket." I asked Ben, the son, why he was trying to confuse the dog. His reply: "The dog is 13 years old. His name is Cricket. He doesn't have any idea who this Cotton is that mom keeps calling." On our way home, Kelli and I determined that this dog is basically the same age as Kelli's grandmother (using the highly reliable dog years-to-human years 7:1 ratio), or roughly 91 years old. So Leah's valiant attempt to rename Cricket would be like Kelli going to her grandmother's and saying "Ruby, it's so good to see you!" even though her name for the previous 9 decades has been Ruth. We expect to learn that Cricket's re-education will be proportionately as successful as would be Grandmother's.
Just three days later, we were visited by friends from church who's teenage son is mowing our yard for us. He is a good young man who, for the time I've known him, has been called Mitchell. When we were saying our final goodbyes, he informed us that upon entering high school next fall, he'd be primarily identified by his middle name, "Blake." Granted, we had been conditioned a bit with the Cotton/Cricket controversy, but it was still unsettling nonetheless to try to imagine Mitchell as Blake. In some sense, it was like back in the late 80s when I found out Rick Astley was a skinny white guy, only the surprise was in reverse. I hope Blake has more success with his new name than Garth Brooks did when he started expecting people to call him Chris Gaines.
And now my son wants to be known exclusively as "Buddy."
So all this to ask the deep question, "what's in a name?"
When I was young, I wanted to be renamed "Bill." I wouldn't answer to Bryan. I named a favorite stuffed animal "Bill" and told everyone that we were twin brothers named Bill. I watched the Mickey Rooney movie endlessly (okay, maybe not). I thought it was the coolest name, perhaps because one of my dad's good friends, a bear of a man, was named Bill. Or perhaps because Bill Bixby played Bruce Banner, who became the Incredible Hulk, who (as I've mentioned previously), I thought my brother and I had invented.
But I digress.
In biblical history, names are both seemingly incredibly important, and also incredibly trivial.
God is constantly renaming people, and the names are always significant. Abram (meaning 'high father') became Abraham ('father of multitudes'). Jacob ('heel catcher' or 'deceiver') became Israel ('he will rule as God'). In these such instances (and others) the names given by God were at the least significant, and actually quite prophetic. (Chuck Missler has an interesting study that the genealogical list given in Genesis 5 is actually a prophecy of the Christ, identified by the names of the men listed).
Now, on the other side of the coin is the fact that people such as Joseph, Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah never appear concerned when they were each renamed by their pagan "life-title" holders to such ear-catching names as Zaphenath-Panneah, Belteshezzar, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, respectively. They were each either stripped of their names because of the original name's relevance to the God of Abraham, or because the new name was deferential to the pagan god of the person in power. In no instance, though, do we see any one of them standing up and saying, "My name is _____________!" reminiscent of the "Toby/Kunta Kinte" scene in Roots. They seemed to recognize that a person's true name is given only by God and not by man, and if some pagan yahoo wanted to call them Rosebud, Pansy Boy, or even Bootlicker, then so be it.
Interestingly, the only references to my name (not my name specifically, but generally) that I can find in the Bible is that (in Luke 10:20) those who belong to Christ by faith are to rejoice because their names are written in heaven, and that when the end of the beginning occurs and the beginning of eternity is about to be initiated, the determining event of who passes from one to the next is all about whether or not a person's name is written in what is called The Lamb's Book of Life.
Now, I believe my name is written there. Not because of anything I've done. God knows I don't deserve to have my name written on any VIP list that is associated with eternal perks. But a little less than a dozen years ago, by faith, I claimed a promise of God that said, "anyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will not be put to shame." So I did. And I believe that Jesus Christ Himself, in an inkwell that was tapped when a spike pierced his flesh securing Him to a cross, signed my name in His book before time ever began.
When I think of it, it causes me to quote the great Theologian Keanu Reeves who once said, "whoa!"
Now, because of that, I'm able to claim other biblical promises that say I am sealed & guaranteed by the Holy Spirit until the day of Redemption, where my faith will be fulfilled by the greatest understanding of reality -- when I enter the presence of God Himself, Jesus (who is, of course, the Christ).
So, to quote another great theologian, Leslie Nielson, "surely, everything will work out for the best. But just don't call me Shirley."
I don't know if it's Bryan McAnally that's written in that Book. But I believe whatever my name is, I'll recognize it. Because the Bible says that my shepherd, my Savior, will be the one speaking my name. And it promises me that I'll recognize His voice.
It reminds me of a few years ago when I was teaching a Sunday school class and I kept asking a guy to read a passage for the class. "Mike, would you like to read?" no answer. "Mike...how about reading for us?" still nothing. "MIKE, do you want to read?" Finally, "Mike" looked up. "Oh, me?!? Sure, I'll read. But my name is David." I was embarrassed for "Miking" him into submission, but he was cool about it. "You can call me Mike," David said, "now I just know that you're talking to me."
I'm sure I'll be willing to go by whatever Jesus calls me when the roll call sounds. As the great theologian Redd Foxx once said, "you can call me ray, or you can call me jay, but you doesn't have to call me Johnson."
I don't know what that means. Sorry, but some theologians are too deep, even for me.
Conversely, as uninterested about my own name as I'm supposed to be, I am to be incredibly interested in the name of Jesus. I'm supposed to do everything that I do, in His name. I am supposed to seek to bring glory and honor to His name in all my conduct, in all my motives, in all my aspirations and inspirations. There seems to be a recurring theme that when it comes to me & God, its not about me or my name, but its about Him and His name.
Hmmmm.....
Anyway, before I go, it appears that Jesus Himself is going to be involved in this Re:naming project. Revelation 3:12 says He will write on those who overcome His "new name." Then, a bit later in Rev. 19, we see this:
Okay, I could pretend like I know what that means, but y'all could spot a fraud a mile away, so I won't. But I have two thoughts on this.
1. Does He use a new name because of the bad reputation that "Christians" have given their label over the past 2000 years? You know, kinda like why there are no kids named Judas, Adolph, or OJ anymore?
2. I'm not terribly original when it comes to "pet names" for my loved ones. I call Kelli "honey." And she calls me "Lothar, King of the Domicile (but that's another blog altogether)." Anyway, I didn't begin calling her "honey" until we reached a level of intimacy where it was appropriate. Believers' future relationship with Jesus will be one of eternal intimacy -- so much so that it is presented as a marriage where the church is His bride. I find it pretty cool that God loves us so much, and thinks us to be so special that He is saving His new name -- His eternal name -- to share with us when its all said and done and its all said and done.
Is a name a big deal? I don't know. But probably not....for now, anyway. I mean, some names are cooler than others. I've heard of the stories (true or not, I don't know) of people with unfortunate names. For the longest time growing up, I thought it was incredibly coincidental that the channel nine weatherman had the name Stormy Rotman. This led to the epiphanal discovery of the grammatical tool of nickname quotation marks, in 7th grade English. But even if your name is particularly appropriate, or dishearteningly ironic, it probably won't matter when Jesus performs a Ben Stein-esque reading from the Lamb's Book.
Bueller....
Bueller....
Bueller....
Well, I better close. My boyCotter Buddy wants to play ball.
its funny how every once in a while, a series of events merge in a confluence of thematic obviousness that just demands to be blogged.
Cotter recently declaring his new name to us was the third such instance of name-related anecdotes that present just just a situation here.
Just before we left Colorado, we visited two families of friends. At the one friend's, we were suprised to see that they had added a new dog (acquired from the local Humane Society) to the family roll call. Leah, friend and family matriarch, told us the dog's name was "Cotton."
After a short time, Leah's son came in and immediately began calling Cotton "Cricket." I asked Ben, the son, why he was trying to confuse the dog. His reply: "The dog is 13 years old. His name is Cricket. He doesn't have any idea who this Cotton is that mom keeps calling." On our way home, Kelli and I determined that this dog is basically the same age as Kelli's grandmother (using the highly reliable dog years-to-human years 7:1 ratio), or roughly 91 years old. So Leah's valiant attempt to rename Cricket would be like Kelli going to her grandmother's and saying "Ruby, it's so good to see you!" even though her name for the previous 9 decades has been Ruth. We expect to learn that Cricket's re-education will be proportionately as successful as would be Grandmother's.
Just three days later, we were visited by friends from church who's teenage son is mowing our yard for us. He is a good young man who, for the time I've known him, has been called Mitchell. When we were saying our final goodbyes, he informed us that upon entering high school next fall, he'd be primarily identified by his middle name, "Blake." Granted, we had been conditioned a bit with the Cotton/Cricket controversy, but it was still unsettling nonetheless to try to imagine Mitchell as Blake. In some sense, it was like back in the late 80s when I found out Rick Astley was a skinny white guy, only the surprise was in reverse. I hope Blake has more success with his new name than Garth Brooks did when he started expecting people to call him Chris Gaines.
And now my son wants to be known exclusively as "Buddy."
So all this to ask the deep question, "what's in a name?"
When I was young, I wanted to be renamed "Bill." I wouldn't answer to Bryan. I named a favorite stuffed animal "Bill" and told everyone that we were twin brothers named Bill. I watched the Mickey Rooney movie endlessly (okay, maybe not). I thought it was the coolest name, perhaps because one of my dad's good friends, a bear of a man, was named Bill. Or perhaps because Bill Bixby played Bruce Banner, who became the Incredible Hulk, who (as I've mentioned previously), I thought my brother and I had invented.
But I digress.
In biblical history, names are both seemingly incredibly important, and also incredibly trivial.
God is constantly renaming people, and the names are always significant. Abram (meaning 'high father') became Abraham ('father of multitudes'). Jacob ('heel catcher' or 'deceiver') became Israel ('he will rule as God'). In these such instances (and others) the names given by God were at the least significant, and actually quite prophetic. (Chuck Missler has an interesting study that the genealogical list given in Genesis 5 is actually a prophecy of the Christ, identified by the names of the men listed).
Now, on the other side of the coin is the fact that people such as Joseph, Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah never appear concerned when they were each renamed by their pagan "life-title" holders to such ear-catching names as Zaphenath-Panneah, Belteshezzar, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, respectively. They were each either stripped of their names because of the original name's relevance to the God of Abraham, or because the new name was deferential to the pagan god of the person in power. In no instance, though, do we see any one of them standing up and saying, "My name is _____________!" reminiscent of the "Toby/Kunta Kinte" scene in Roots. They seemed to recognize that a person's true name is given only by God and not by man, and if some pagan yahoo wanted to call them Rosebud, Pansy Boy, or even Bootlicker, then so be it.
Interestingly, the only references to my name (not my name specifically, but generally) that I can find in the Bible is that (in Luke 10:20) those who belong to Christ by faith are to rejoice because their names are written in heaven, and that when the end of the beginning occurs and the beginning of eternity is about to be initiated, the determining event of who passes from one to the next is all about whether or not a person's name is written in what is called The Lamb's Book of Life.
Now, I believe my name is written there. Not because of anything I've done. God knows I don't deserve to have my name written on any VIP list that is associated with eternal perks. But a little less than a dozen years ago, by faith, I claimed a promise of God that said, "anyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will not be put to shame." So I did. And I believe that Jesus Christ Himself, in an inkwell that was tapped when a spike pierced his flesh securing Him to a cross, signed my name in His book before time ever began.
When I think of it, it causes me to quote the great Theologian Keanu Reeves who once said, "whoa!"
Now, because of that, I'm able to claim other biblical promises that say I am sealed & guaranteed by the Holy Spirit until the day of Redemption, where my faith will be fulfilled by the greatest understanding of reality -- when I enter the presence of God Himself, Jesus (who is, of course, the Christ).
So, to quote another great theologian, Leslie Nielson, "surely, everything will work out for the best. But just don't call me Shirley."
I don't know if it's Bryan McAnally that's written in that Book. But I believe whatever my name is, I'll recognize it. Because the Bible says that my shepherd, my Savior, will be the one speaking my name. And it promises me that I'll recognize His voice.
It reminds me of a few years ago when I was teaching a Sunday school class and I kept asking a guy to read a passage for the class. "Mike, would you like to read?" no answer. "Mike...how about reading for us?" still nothing. "MIKE, do you want to read?" Finally, "Mike" looked up. "Oh, me?!? Sure, I'll read. But my name is David." I was embarrassed for "Miking" him into submission, but he was cool about it. "You can call me Mike," David said, "now I just know that you're talking to me."
I'm sure I'll be willing to go by whatever Jesus calls me when the roll call sounds. As the great theologian Redd Foxx once said, "you can call me ray, or you can call me jay, but you doesn't have to call me Johnson."
I don't know what that means. Sorry, but some theologians are too deep, even for me.
Conversely, as uninterested about my own name as I'm supposed to be, I am to be incredibly interested in the name of Jesus. I'm supposed to do everything that I do, in His name. I am supposed to seek to bring glory and honor to His name in all my conduct, in all my motives, in all my aspirations and inspirations. There seems to be a recurring theme that when it comes to me & God, its not about me or my name, but its about Him and His name.
Hmmmm.....
Anyway, before I go, it appears that Jesus Himself is going to be involved in this Re:naming project. Revelation 3:12 says He will write on those who overcome His "new name." Then, a bit later in Rev. 19, we see this:
Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse. And He who sat on him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and makes war. His eyes were like a flame of fire, and on His head were many crowns. He had a name written that no one knew except Himself. He was clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God. (11-13)
Okay, I could pretend like I know what that means, but y'all could spot a fraud a mile away, so I won't. But I have two thoughts on this.
1. Does He use a new name because of the bad reputation that "Christians" have given their label over the past 2000 years? You know, kinda like why there are no kids named Judas, Adolph, or OJ anymore?
2. I'm not terribly original when it comes to "pet names" for my loved ones. I call Kelli "honey." And she calls me "Lothar, King of the Domicile (but that's another blog altogether)." Anyway, I didn't begin calling her "honey" until we reached a level of intimacy where it was appropriate. Believers' future relationship with Jesus will be one of eternal intimacy -- so much so that it is presented as a marriage where the church is His bride. I find it pretty cool that God loves us so much, and thinks us to be so special that He is saving His new name -- His eternal name -- to share with us when its all said and done and its all said and done.
Is a name a big deal? I don't know. But probably not....for now, anyway. I mean, some names are cooler than others. I've heard of the stories (true or not, I don't know) of people with unfortunate names. For the longest time growing up, I thought it was incredibly coincidental that the channel nine weatherman had the name Stormy Rotman. This led to the epiphanal discovery of the grammatical tool of nickname quotation marks, in 7th grade English. But even if your name is particularly appropriate, or dishearteningly ironic, it probably won't matter when Jesus performs a Ben Stein-esque reading from the Lamb's Book.
Bueller....
Bueller....
Bueller....
Well, I better close. My boy
this post sponsored by Bob Vila
Got the home PC up today. For some reason I can't make the DSL work, and can't get tech support until Monday. So, I'm on the phone line with Earthlink for a bit longer.
I've got about a hundred things I'd like to blog on, but a slew of unpacked boxes and a myriad of move-in projects will limit my posting for a while.
Thanks to Irene & Tony for kind words. We're thrilled to be in GA!
I've got about a hundred things I'd like to blog on, but a slew of unpacked boxes and a myriad of move-in projects will limit my posting for a while.
Thanks to Irene & Tony for kind words. We're thrilled to be in GA!
6/30/2003
to explain
why the trip only took 1660 miles instead of the 1935 that were originally planned. Kelli's sister, Shari, had already planned a surprise trip to Denver, thus negating our need to travel the additional mileage south to visit her in Weimar, Texas. After much duplicity and shell-game conspiring involving multiple family members, Shari and her two youngest children joined G'Mom & G'Dad in visiting us in Florence before our departure. So we ended up driving 1000 miles on day 1, 200 miles on day 2, and 460 miles on day three.
We stayed in Shreveport, LA, and Clinton, MS. We wanted to visit the President Clinton memorial museum, but discovered that its Hall of Dishonor was under additional construction, and would likely not be ready for about 100 years, when the curators could possibly compile all the significa that would belong there from Billy Bob's tenure at the helm.
We stayed in Shreveport, LA, and Clinton, MS. We wanted to visit the President Clinton memorial museum, but discovered that its Hall of Dishonor was under additional construction, and would likely not be ready for about 100 years, when the curators could possibly compile all the significa that would belong there from Billy Bob's tenure at the helm.
two thumbs up
I took my two oldest children with me to see The Incredible Hulk the other night, while we stayed in Clinton, Mississippi. There were basically three parts where they had to cover their eyes -- where the Hulk fought the dogs (I didn't want them having any *additional* irrational fears of dogs), a brief scene where the post-Hulk Banner shows his rear after bustin' out of his BVDs, and a scene showing family violence. Also, for those curious, there were only two objectionable words that I caught (though I don't tend to watch a movie with pad & pencil in hand, marking those things down) -- a single profanity, and a single vulgarity. From my perspective, the movie was pretty enjoyable, the hulk was visually impressive, although the majority of the scenes were too dark to fully appreciate (which is why the desert scene was my favorite -- specifically with the tanks). The ending was deep (literally & figuratively), that will likely require additional viewing on DVD (which I'm sure pleases Ang Lee and studio heads). Perhaps because of my childhood identification with the story, I rate this as better than the Spiderman, Daredevil, Batman, Superman, and X-Men movies.
here's what the other two reviewers had to say about the movie....
Kaylyn:
-- it looks like it hurts when he turns into the Hulk.
-- Betty's dream made me sad.
-- did that frog just explode? eeeeww grossy.
-- that part sure sounded scary (dog fight scene).
-- Is the Hulk good or bad? oh.
-- Is the general good or bad? oh.
-- Is his daddy good or bad? oh.
-- Is the blonde guy good or bad? oh.
-- Why is he naked except for his shorts?
-- I really liked the movie, I just didn't understand it.
Cotter:
-- wow. I can't run as fast as the Hulk.
-- and Mommy, my favorite part was when.... (repeated 100 times, with 100 different scenes)
-- that part didn't scare me!
-- well, he won't be coming out of *that* explosion.
-- do you want to see me jump like the Hulk? only I can't jump as far as him. And he lands on his feet. I fall down when I jump high.
-- why is he naked except for his shorts?
-- did Bruce take off his Hulk costume?
-- my favorite heroes are the Hulk, Spider Man, and Anakin.
-- that movie was cooooool.
here's what the other two reviewers had to say about the movie....
Kaylyn:
-- it looks like it hurts when he turns into the Hulk.
-- Betty's dream made me sad.
-- did that frog just explode? eeeeww grossy.
-- that part sure sounded scary (dog fight scene).
-- Is the Hulk good or bad? oh.
-- Is the general good or bad? oh.
-- Is his daddy good or bad? oh.
-- Is the blonde guy good or bad? oh.
-- Why is he naked except for his shorts?
-- I really liked the movie, I just didn't understand it.
Cotter:
-- wow. I can't run as fast as the Hulk.
-- and Mommy, my favorite part was when.... (repeated 100 times, with 100 different scenes)
-- that part didn't scare me!
-- well, he won't be coming out of *that* explosion.
-- do you want to see me jump like the Hulk? only I can't jump as far as him. And he lands on his feet. I fall down when I jump high.
-- why is he naked except for his shorts?
-- did Bruce take off his Hulk costume?
-- my favorite heroes are the Hulk, Spider Man, and Anakin.
-- that movie was cooooool.
we've arrived
after 1660 miles and three days of travelling, we've arrived in our new home locale of Cumming, GA. Our stuff should arrive tomorrow morning. it's a little surreal after preparing to come in Feb., then being made to wait, and then hurried to arrive. it's been an adventure, and I'm looking forward to the next chapter!
6/24/2003
we're packing up our home tomorrow, and leaving on Wednesday for the Great Trek across America TM that will culminate in our relocation to Cumming, GA. My blogging will be spartan at best, but I look forward to being able to regale you with the saga of travelling 1935 miles and the untold adventures that await.
The BBC reports a scientific study that there are only 78 genes differentiating men from women.
78.
seems inordinately small, if you ask me.
here's just a few (deliberately trying to be non-offensive, by the way). And these are anecdotal, and therefore perhaps not inclusive in the list of 78.
1. I was emotional when John Elway retired, but logical when a beloved dog died. My wife was logical when John retired, emotional at the dog's passing.
2. I still cannot color coordinate outfits. My wife was born with the ability to accomplish this.
3. Under extreme circumstances, I can wear the same underwear for more than one day. My wife is aghast at this.
4. A five minute computer game "break" can turn into a 3-hour battle to complete a level that will result in me growling to the children, "not now, Daddy's working!" Kelli is able to log on, check her email, send replies, and log off. This baffles me.
5. My beloved is extremely organized in all facets of her life. I share that organization with my music collection, which is categorized by genre, sub-categorized by decade, and further categorized alphabetically. Unfortunately my tax records are compiled in a cardboard box kept together with duct tape and labeled "Taxes 1992---Eternity."
6. I don't get Steel Magnolias. She doesn't get Gladiator. Neither of us will make a discernable effort to bridge this bilateral gap of misunderstanding.
7. When several of the original Blake Street Bombers of the Colorado Rockies re-signed with other teams, I understood this as the economics of baseball. She understood this as a breakup where the guy was suddenly dating the ex's best friend.
8. I call my son "dude," "bud," and "big guy." She calls him "baby," "sweetheart," and "darlin'."
9. My wife is concerned about having smooth heels and soft hands, and will buy products to help acheive these aims. I am concerned only with having a non-retreating hairline and not having body odor. I've only had to buy products for one of these concerns, but will, if necessary, purchase anything and everything necessary to maintain the other.
10. Morning prep time. Her: 1 hour on a good day. Me: 20 minutes on a bad day.
It was the great theologian Jerry McGuire who said, "you....complete....me." and it was his counterpart (don't remember her name) who said, "you had me at 'I'm a sports agent who makes a 6 percent commission on multimillion dollar athlete contracts and endorsement deals.'" I don't know what that has to do with anything, other than we live in a world where we have a lot of Mickey Gilley relationships takin' place. You know: Lookin' for love in all the wrong places.
You don't know how thankful and blessed I feel to have one wife...for life. When God brought Kelli into my life, I wasn't looking for love, much less looking for a wife. All I was looking for was a friend who was willing to drive me home. Over the next several months, we learned just how different we were from each other. But with each difference, God's Spirit whispered to each of us in His inimitable way, This is the one I've chosen for you. And before I knew it, even without looking for something so wonderful, I discovered that I would never be albe to live my life 'in completion,' if she wasn't a part of it.
I'm glad God made me and my wife so different. We are so alike on important matters of faith, of sense of humor (though I tend to laugh longer and harder at jokes related to body functions than does she), the passions that compel us, and other practical ideologies. But she is so very feminine. She is such a godly woman. I've said before that I never again need to hear another sermon on the Proverbs 31 woman, because I experience a living sermon each and every day with one. She honors God, she lives for Christ, and She follows His Holy Spirit. She defers to me, but always encourages me, offers me wise counsel, and most important, prays for me. Apart from my salvation, she is undoubtedly God's greatest gift in my life.
For eight years, I've had the privilege to be her husband. God could have given her to anybody, and they would have been blessed to get her. But He saw fit to bless me. Too often, I fail to prove that I deserve such a blessing. And oh, how I feel the weight of responsibility to be the steward that God has ordained me to be as her husband, and the father of her children. But time and again, He uses her to impart grace upon grace in my life, demonstrating in tangible, memorable, and eternally important ways that I am a better man, a better husband, a better father, and a better Christ-follower because she and I are made one flesh, by our faith in Him.
The psalm of my heart praises God for the blessing of my wife. I thank Him for her, on this special day. And on every day.
6/23/2003
perhaps I was being paranoid, but as I worked through the myriad of button-pushing related to the automated voice menus necessary to turn off the gas to my home, I was placed on hold to speak with a customer service representative.
The song playing to fill the void of empty silence
na na na na hey hey hey goodbye...
and then
I kid you not
I was disconnected.
A relative of mine, Stacy Young, was recently killed in a "Toughman" Contest held in Florida.
Here are a series of articles related to her death.
In the email updates I have received from family on this matter (she is the daughter of one of my dad's cousins), the negligence occurred on the following levels:
1. She was invited to participate because the contest needed women (and I think her entry fee was waived to accomodate that).
2. She was matched against someone with much more advanced skills
3. The ring doctor doubled as the ring photographer, and was apparently so busy taking photos of her death blow that he wasn't available to administer aid.
I don't know how this will all play out. Lawsuits will likely be involved.
Please pray for Stacy's family -- especially her two daughters who witnessed the tragedy.
we completed our garage sale on Saturday. We made about $100 total. We didn't expect to make much, because we didn't have anything over $10 listed for sale. And most of the stuff that was priced at $10, we sold for $5.
That is, except, for all the baby stuff. We hadn't moved much of Kelsi's merchandise. So near the end of the sales day on Sat., we saw that a neighbor girl who was also moving was *very* pregnant. So we decided to give her all our things. This included a stroller, a bath, two car seats, a bouncy seat, and two boxes of clothes. We decided there was no real good reason to take money for it, since she was obviously young, and would need all the money she had (actually I think she made us take $4 for it).
Well, we were feeling pretty good about helping her out. Then, yesterday, Kelli came across some things (like a baby monitor) that we thought she could use. So, she packed it all up and took it across the street to give to the (sonn-to-be grand)mom to give to her (mother-to-be) daughter. Turns out the girl's mom wasn't so thrilled with out benevolence. She had comethisclose to convincing her daughter to give the baby up for adoption. But then, after receiving all our stuff, she determined that she could do it on her own.
Turns out the mom to be is 14 years old.
oh yeah, so is the dad-to-be.
we were apologetic about it, and the girl's mom said she wasn't angry with us. But the more we thought about it, we didn't really feel bad.
I mean, how often do you go to a pregnant woman and ask, "is it okay with your mom if we give you this stuff?"
we determined she (obviously) wasn't too concerned about getting mom's permission on important matters.
The area we were convicted of the most is that we never took enough advantage of getting to know them to know what the situation was before we're all moving away from each other.
the moral of the story: a well-intentioned gift is always nice, but a well-intentioned friend is always the better gift.
I've never been fired. From anything.
but I found this to be interesting from founders.org
How to fire your Pastor.
(note: please make sure the chamber, as well as the cartridge of your revolver is empty before you attempt to clean it. Accidental discharge may result in serious injury, or even death.)
6/22/2003
the list of most influential blogs, and the people who love them (or maybe not).
6/21/2003
I think someone just called me a dumbledork
just who is this Harry Potter I keep hearing people talk about? Is this really a person, or just a reference to a hirsute ceramicist?
Is he related to Mr. Potter from Its a Wonderful Life? Or to Colonel Potter from the 4077?
His name keeps getting linked with a term that confuses me: The Order of the Phoenix, and I don't know what it means. Is he a cult leader, or a travel agent?
Is he related to Mr. Potter from Its a Wonderful Life? Or to Colonel Potter from the 4077?
His name keeps getting linked with a term that confuses me: The Order of the Phoenix, and I don't know what it means. Is he a cult leader, or a travel agent?
personal trends update as determined by by blogspot advertising
heretofore I'd noticed predominantly "christian-oriented" advertising.
But ever since I added the amazon link to the book I co-wrote, my ads are now "amazon-oriented."
whatever the ads say, I'm oriented toward eternity, just trying to walk the most direct path until I get there.
But ever since I added the amazon link to the book I co-wrote, my ads are now "amazon-oriented."
whatever the ads say, I'm oriented toward eternity, just trying to walk the most direct path until I get there.
my brother lives in Sayreville, NJ
but this is not about him.
This is about overreacting PC idiots (reported dutifully at How Appealing, the appelate blog).
A Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the Sayreville school district's decision to suspend a kindergartner for saying to friends "I'm going to shoot you" to his friends at recess.
Lost in the details was the fact that the 5 and 6 year-olds were playing glamour photographer.
This is about overreacting PC idiots (reported dutifully at How Appealing, the appelate blog).
A Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the Sayreville school district's decision to suspend a kindergartner for saying to friends "I'm going to shoot you" to his friends at recess.
Lost in the details was the fact that the 5 and 6 year-olds were playing glamour photographer.
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