Blue Crabs

Close this one out...

2011-08-28T11:05:00.003-05:00

Yep... I have not written since January - I have had several people wonder about this, as I have wondered about it. God has been full of grace for me here, AND, I believe I grieve His heart when I do not use... no, more strongly, I bury the talents He gave me.

I was thinking about why I have not written. I do know that back in the spring I was pretty "lit up" about this dude that was teaching stuff from the margins of scripture (when you establish conclusions around stuff that God clearly leaves as inconclusive in the bible)... anyhow, I loathe this practice, as tempting as it is for the spinning brain, if God does not make it clear - He does not intend for us to have it nailed so-to-speak. Leave it alone and enjoy the ambiguity of it - don't "solve it" against the sounding board of your dysfunctional-childhood, cortisol-infused, pothole-riddled synaptic highway system! This is how all divergent religions (some people call these "cults", some people call these "alternatives") are formed by the way... see "Christian Science, Mormonism, Jehovah's Witness, Pensacola-Toronto-Kansas City Revivals [yes these revivals were constantly, and still are, filling in the margins] et al...). ANYHOW - back to my point - I was lit up and I was really angry because a ministry I am forever enmeshed with was affiliated indirectly with this "creative thinker" and I was SOOO upset that this affiliation could hurt that ministry.

-THEN-

Someone I respect as much as I can respect someone ever in eternity said to me... "if a church elder ever read your blog, you would not be allowed to teach in that church and that ministry would be in jeopardy..." (something very close to that, that is what is burned into my brain though). My stomach hurts right now writing this... I, AND MY THOUGHTS, ARE DANGEROUS TO THE WOUNDED! What I write, could keep the ministry that turns people back to Jesus in their deepest pain, out of a church!!! The truth of that had me ready to delete everything I have ever written and I feared to write ANYTHING again. I am shaking a bit right now. SO - look, I know that elder boards in churches are a GIANT tool of evil for very religious law keepers to exercise their elaborate hiding schemes in concert with each other and they hurt people deeply, regularly, often, and most often without recourse. Elder boards are ALSO tasked with keeping dangerous idiots (EVIL) from bringing stupid dangerous marginal ministries into their churches - so they often err on the very conservative side of "allowance" - and you know what, I don't think they are wrong in doing that... it is quite a conundrum.

So I thought, and thought, and thought... If I were a church elder and I read this blog, would I let Russ teach and lead in my church. If I don't know him... nope, probably not - and many would say "no way, no how, never". So here I am, caught between who I am, what I think about, what has happened to me... and needing the formal organization of the Church, because they have facilities basically, to house the execution of life giving ministries... I am caught between them being dangerous. My only hope, is that God will protect me there I guess. (HA! imagine that, CRAP - I have to rely on Him again!).

Well, while I have been "caught", and stuck, and, and, and... I chose to rely on myself and I buried my "talents". Then God...

First - my friend who mentors and loves me well - came to me and gave me a ceramic figurine. He found it at the coast - it was a Blue Crab. He did not know what was going on with me or why I had not been writing, and, he bought me the crab. He gave it to me and said he did not necessarily know why God wanted him to give it to me but that he thought it might be around the fact that "maybe a chapter is closing". He said that my last post was very powerful and that maybe God has a new place for your writing to go now - just a different chapter. I was stunned because I had been wondering that myself. I said that Crab figurine, was an alter now, a marker of the end of this blog. It means more to me that he can know, and I am deeply touched by his obedience to listening to God, and his kind care for me.

AND YESTERDAY - I listened as Dr. Henry Cloud told us lots of great stuff - and I could not move off of this point - "Observe the Ant, oh Sluggard" - that is a scripture and after you do a word study on "sluggard" you come to the word indolent - or, "avoids pain". I have been avoiding pain, seeking pleasure, working on other stuff - AND - avoiding / leaving my talent buried... God, I think, gave me a talent to write when he made me and I should be writing. Tres told me long ago "Russ, writers write, so... write!"... he simply wanted to tell me that I am not a great writer, and I will remain not-a-great-writer if I don't use what I have been given - I become a "wicked and lazy servant" of my gifting. God rewards movement, activity - He lives through me not For Me "cast, step, go, walk, run, do, be, etc..." lots of stuff God calls us to contain verbs that are not "wait" and "rest" dang it. Yep, the dreaded "Faith without Works" verse is in the bible - when I don't write, a piece of my faith - - - is Dead. So I am going to write and I am going to write, and I am going to write more... "God willing".

AND - not here. This blog had it's purpose and it's place - and it will stay for anyone to enjoy the ramblings of a ranting dysfunctional in his "formative" years. I don't know what will become of me or writing, don't know... don't know if it is my primary talent, I just know it is one of them and I am an idiot if I don't get after it and write.

So join me and my brain over at... http://arrowsinmyshank.blogspot.com/

There went I

2011-01-08T08:04:00.002-06:00

I need to warn you, this post is a bit graphic, it is about the porn industry, and me.

You know that saying "There but for the Grace of God go I"... well, a couple of weeks ago I was talking to a friend of mine over coffee... about a documentary he and his wife saw on the porn industry. It was all pretty typical if you have ever ventured into the underbelly that evil thrives in to make this industry thrive.

It is 95% about abused, numbed out, drug addicted women being thrashed by dangerous angry men... most of whom share some drug and sex addiction, and a majority of the men have some serious women hating violence in them. The ones that make it out of the industry will tell you the truth, and the ones still in it... they try to act so "normal" when interviewed in these documentaries, and yet they drip with dysfunction - the men that produce the porn - well, you could scrape thick slabs of sleaze off of them with a shovel if you needed. They truly are scum. The actors are victims and perpetrators all rolled into a mess. Watching one of the documentaries will do wonders for anyone with a porn addiction that has a conscious and/or any faith because the truth behind those "scenes" that are so addictive is pathetic and sickening. If you have ever seen a "behind the scenes" view of porn being made, it is so bizarre that it is stunning. It is like another day at the office and they talk and take breaks and get themselves aroused "enough" to continue with the scene after having a soda and setting up the camera somewhere else in the room... and the level of disassociation is palpable and thick because in the deepest part of them - they know they are desecrating one of God's most precious gifts and evil is lurking and laughing.

Well, my friend was describing this and I was like "oh, I know, it is so wild to see the mess of it all..." - then he moved on to something that shook me a bit. He was talking about a part in the documentary where they had 2 good looking 20 something men doing a gay porn scene. Immediately I thought, "well, of course gays are in that industry like crazy". Then he said it was just like the heterosexual scene production process but this was crazy... because both the men were married (to women) and their wives were also porn stars. Both wives were there, sitting on chairs behind the cameras helping stimulate their husbands during breaks because it was difficult for them to stay aroused... because they weren't gay / aroused by men... and to finish the scene they both needed to anally rape one another. And it was sort of a ho-hum day at the office just plow through it sort of resignation to doing it. When asked, the men said "well, straight sex scenes pay about $600 on average, and we each get $3000 for a gay scene... so it is a no-brainer, the money is so much better"... I could imagine evil nodding its head with delight.

So, in my head I thought "HOW, how could two men disassociate THAT MUCH... how could they even do that to one another and kiss and... oh my god, what the hell, I could NEVER do that"... We left and went back to our desks and I left for home shortly there after. I was driving home thinking about how crazy what I had heard was, and how I could not imagine... then it hit me. Tears welled up in my eyes because - shit... shit, shit, shit - I know exactly how they could disassociate "that much". I did it for five f-ing years when I was younger. I was sexually abused by a boy raping gay bastard from England for 5 years - and I just plowed through it, resigned to the belief that it is simply the cost of survival, to be away from my miserable home, and to keep attached my two closest friends at the time both of whom he was also abusing. Plowed through and resigned to death. I know, I know exactly how they can check out - hate every moment, hate yourself, hate your abuser - and still swallow, and still have an orgasm.

So... it is not "There but for the Grace of God go I"... it is "There with God watching - I went"...
By his Grace - I can sit here and write about it, it helps.

Sorry this is sort of graphic but I needed to write it.

Advent 24 & the Big Finish!

2010-12-28T07:46:00.006-06:00

I am here... gotta finish this marathon off. We left town for Christmas so it was hard to write.

Well, we stayed here Christmas Eve, Kim sewed all day to finish off the 9 homemade snuggies she made for all of our nieces and nephews. She got really soft and high-end fleece (because if you have ever felt a TV Snuggie, you know it is made of cheap "dog-blanket" fleece), and she made them all Snuggie's with hand pockets and foot pockets. They were a HUGE hit by the way. So the Eve of our Lords Birthday was spent relaxing and playing with the boys, getting ready to leave town early, early the next morning. Around 6 we took showers, got out the Eggnog, talked a bit about Jesus, Prayed together... and opened presents. It was a lot of fun and everyone was playing with their "stuff" for a while. We opened presents on Christmas Eve because we were leaving for Corpus around 3:30 a.m. so we could go Duck Hunting with the Corpus Orrick Clan. We won't do this again by the way, and my son Jacob let on to some wisdom when he wanted to stay home for Christmas morning and not Duck Hunt until Sunday morning. He is 16 and feigns indifference to much (as 16 year old's tend to do!) but he loves Christmas morning with just us - opening presents, having breakfast, and enjoying one another... He loves to hunt so I really should have listened when he said he wanted to stay home instead and hunt later, he was giving us an opportunity for beauty. Should have listened... should have listened - live and learn.

This, is as the still, quiet voice that the Spirit speaks with... The Lord lets you know the path of the most beauty every time I think, if we will only listen. I have learned to listen to it - and I remember the gut ignoring moment when I chose to move ahead with going Duck Hunting instead of listening to the Lord's voice through my son, I can see the moment clearly... dang it!

So, we finished our evening and scrambled to get stuff ready to leave... slept for a few hours, scrambled some more, and stumbled out way out of the house just before 4 a.m... On the way out of town, we were running about 20 minutes behind - on 37 south just downtown we were diverted off the freeway as the police were closing it. About exactly when we were originally scheduled to be passing by Hildebrand road and 37, a man committed suicide by walking his dog in the center lane of the freeway we were on around a sort of blind corner there, we were late, we were spared being either the car that hit him... or certainly we would have been one of the first cars to see it all - and apparently it was messy. The Lord kindly delayed us, just enough.

We got to the Sweeny Switch on Lake Mathis around 5:30 a.m. and Kim dropped me and the boys off with our nephew Hunter (his name, and his skill!). Kim went on to Corpus to help our Niece Michelle and her brother Mike with the morning cooking in preparation for a big Christmas dinner. I wanted to go Duck hunting with my boys that morning because I thought it would be a great memory maker with them, it would certainly be an adventure, and it just seemed like the right thing to do. Nothing was wrong with it... and - it was a good and fun hunt. Here are some pictures from our Christmas Morning Duck Hunt:

So, it was beautiful where we hunted, and it was fun, cold, muddy and okie dokie - good just not the best. The reason I know this is that we went hunting again Sunday Morning and the hunt was even more fun because we got many more ducks... AND this was a memory maker and my boys and I and my nephew had fun doing this. The Lord walked us grace-fully through this choice on Christmas morning. In the place we were building stronger family bonds and loving each other in relationship, we honored the Lord and what he created us for...

So, now it is Christmas morning. We get back to our Nieces house at around 10:30 a.m. and, well, it was again just this bag of words - interesting, fun, funny, sad, head shaking, enjoyable, and simply - family. We were at Michelle's house and the house was filled up with the siblings of 2 families that have a long history together - the Orrick boys and the Peel boys - and a few girls! The sad first - most of the Peels and a few of the Orricks are Redneck-Alcoholics, in other words they drink a lot of beer and they drink it all day. The attention to beer has not been good for their health and it is a little bit hard to watch them focus on such sad survival of their dysfunction. There was not a single person at this event that did not come from a relatively horrible home, save my boys (and they had Kim and I as parents so they have their OWN stories!). This brood of country boys is as kind and funny as they come though, I mean they would give you the shirt off their back at any moment and they are really hilarious to hand around, and we have been around them a lot over the years so it is not unusual or unexpected, or odd to spend a holiday with all of them. What is good is that they all care about one another, and they all take care of one another, and they are a solid 1/3 of Kim and I's family - so, family is family baby and it is good to be with them in short stints. Like I said, they are VERY kind and really funny.

AND - it is just an adventure in redneck lore to hang out. I was standing at the sliding glass door looking out into the back "yard" about 30 minutes before we called everyone in to eat. And after around 7 minutes of country boy people watching I had at least 5 more "yoooou might be a Redneck jokes"... just from watching my family! FOR EXAMPLE... "If you are using a walker, because your knee replacement surgery allowed you to stand up straight for the first time in 8 years and that revealed your hip problem... if you are using that walker to get back over to your large Styrofoam cup filled to the rim with Cabernet Sauvignon, over ice, after peeing in the corner of the back "yard", and you accidentally knock your plastic chair over in the fire and it starts to melt... Yooouuuuu might be a Redneck!"... that is NO JOKE that is just simple observation of Uncle Rickey, one of the most gentle and kindest men I have ever fished with!

Anyhow, we made it to dinner. And it was quite a spread. Michelle (who is 22), her dad (Kim's brother Mike), and Kim made the meal - but mostly Michelle because having this all at her house was her idea. She is a wonderful young lady and she wanted her family together, the parts that are speaking to one another (because Kim's twin brother and dad, are "feuding" with Kim's older brother so the family is in 1/3's). She wanted to get us together and have a family Christmas meal. This is a picture of our beautiful niece and my wife in the kitchen. They fixed a Turkey, a Ham, Orrick family recipe cornbread and biscuit dressing, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, green bean casserole, corn, mash potatoes, and giblet gravy... buttermilk and pumpkin pies for dessert... AND, it was amazingly awesomely fantastic. I was so proud of Michelle and everyone gave her a standing ovation for the meal. I was a little tear filled because I told her that her Mema (Kim's mom and Michelle's most loved grandmother who passed away several years ago) would be soooo very very proud of her - and that she is smiling from Heaven right now. It was a sweet moment. They asked me to say the blessing and that felt good to allow me to honor the Lord for this gaggle of God's children that He was born for, and died for, and loves with a bigger smile than I have for them... After eating we had redneck triptafan coma naps with football game watching, kids laughing and playing. Then everyone opened presents that night together, it was fun, and that was Christmas day!

The next morning we went hunting again, did great, cleaned the birds, packed up... and headed for the 2nd 1/3 of Kim's family at the family ranch east of Feer outside of Agua Dulce (in case you were wondering!) Anyhow this is Kim's twin brother and his family. They are also tons of fun to hang around and our boys just love them to death. We are hoping for a day when everyone is back together again - maybe after Kim's stupid and horrible father dies... Anyhow, we left the boys with Kevin and their aunt, nieces and nephew at the ranch... and they are spending this week with them, Jacob is helping Kevin (Kim's twin) at the Gulf Coast Nut and Bolt business in Corpus to make some money... they will visit Kim's dad at his restaurant, the Chat -n- Chew (I am not shitting you, are we country or what!). Finally, at the end of the week they will go to Houston and Kim and I will join them for New Years! It will be fun.

This is a long post, and I wanted to write down what we did because I just wanted to remember it all. It has been a good Christmas, and it has been a hard Christmas.

I think I want to say Thank you Jesus for comming to us, for insulting our sin with Your Amazing Grace... for loving us in our mess, pain, shame, sin, and Glory. Jesus, Happy Birthday, thank you for my family, for my friends... for all You give, for all you withhold, for all you allow, for your smile of tender, untempered, wild love... Thank you Jesus, thank you.

Avent 22 & 23 - Holy Baby

2010-12-23T09:07:00.002-06:00

Holy Baby!!! It is only 2 days till the party. Last night we had tamale's, chili, queso, some wine, apple cider with spiced rum and cinnamon... with a couple that enjoys enjoying enjoyment... who doesn't! And we have another brood coming over tonight. It was fun and we ate and talked and listened to Christmas music amidst the candles and lights and all that stuff.

We noted as we ate the tamale's, how much they cost. They are delicious and they are expensive little packages of spicy and tasty shredded meats and stuffing's wrapped in masa... I expect the expense comes from the fact that they are a complete pain in the ass to make. It is an involved process involving corn, pigs head (you need the facial meat), etc. and so forth... and Mexican ladies that know what the heck they are doing! After this all day process, out comes the little corn husk wrapped Christmas gift called the tamale. You really can only get excellent ones here... in San Antonio, and ANY dispute of that is really foolish my well meaning readers. Oh, you can find good tamales across the country for sure... made by transplanted San Antonio Mexican Americans! And... I have eaten tamales wrapped in banana leaves from central Mexico made by a native Mexican, etc. etc... sometimes great food gets iterated on until it is muey perfecto in a certain location and the tamale has been perfected HERE - so SHUT IT - HEAD, PANTS, NOW!!!

A little incongruous rant to leave you wandering about my sanity! ANYHOW, we were commenting on how much these babies cost because we ate them last Christmas also over at Mark and Tracy's. They served tamales on Christmas - and they had no money to serve tamales. They always gave extravagantly and more than what was "prudent" because the tastes of life were what was important - and the money would take care of itself, somehow. There are apparently a stream of visitors now flying, driving, and launching themselves up to Michigan in furrowing procession to be with the Johnson's over the holiday's. The reason is that they represent more life and family than many / most of those making their way up, have ever had / felt / enjoyed / experienced... ever. The fallout of the Johnson's pilgrimage to the tundra simply means several things.

People will make their way up there to be loved and to love, well
People will have to find a way to be loved and to love here in their absence
People will be REALLY JEALOUS of the people who get to go up there before OTHER PEOPLE get to go up there!!!

THERE, I said it, I am Jealous of all you Johnson hoggers! And that says nothing of the lap sitters that had the Johnson's land in their backyard and now make toasts like "It is sooo wonderful to have you guy's" (because they are too sophisticated to say y'all!) "to have you here, in Michigan... we prayed for this and look what God has done, it is long overdue blah blah blah" over wine and candles and warmth. So, I want you all to know that I AM JEALOUS of your proximity and fortune.

Yesterday morning, I was texting Mark that I was thinking about him and I missed him... and about half-way through my textual creation, he called me to ask for money... NO, just playin cause I'm a playa'... he called to say that they had tasted good stuff the night before and he often connects good tastes with me and Kim (I know it is "Kim and I" English majors). We have been lots of places together and tasted lots of amazing wows all over the place... including each others tables and couches. It was cool that we were thinking about one another at the same time, not surprising, just cool.

Anyhow, I miss the Johnson's, I am jealous of all the Johnson travelers, I am trying to be loved and love well in their absence... and last night was a few steps there, hopefully tonight will be as well... and... and - I think that until we die - we will be going wherever the Johnson's are to be with them because the uniqueness of our relationship cannot be supplanted - not even - and it should be emulated with others because they taught us something important about loving each other that is essential for life.

SO... Johnson lovers - Let's live in the tension of absence and loving each other well - and visiting whenever we can.

End stream-of-consciousness, but that is what I was thinking about...

Advent 15 thru 21 - Paradox

2010-12-21T08:01:00.004-06:00

A couple of things... On Sunday I was at church and worship was awesome. At one point they did a little drama where they were trying to depict a Christmas gift that was "worldly", "disappointing", etc... whatever. A girl opened the gift and inside was a wilted rose and she was left empty and wanting. Jesus was behind her urging her to the other side of the stage where the Gift of His life was waiting by the cross. So she makes her way over there and accepts the gift and opens it and it is a perfect, vibrant rose and her and Jesus embrace. This was background-ed by a really awesome song we were singing with the band. It was cool, I had tears, it was true... and it is also dismissive of the rent vale. Right before we started the song/drama a teenager set it up by saying "blah, blah, blah, we OFTEN FORGET the REAL meaning of Christmas".

See, I don't think Christians or non-Christians have any chance of "forgetting" metaphorically or literally the "real" meaning of Christmas. Even the humanistic politics of trying to remove Christ from Christmas and the strained efforts to say "holiday" instead of Christmas scream at us... "HEY, LET'S SAY HOLIDAY INSTEAD OF CHRISTMAS BECAUSE CHRISTMAS HAS THE WORD CHRIST IN IT AND WE ARE AFRAID OF CHRIST BECAUSE MY HEART HURTS WHEN I HEAR THE WORD JESUS"!!! The truth I think is that we live walking in and out of His open invitation. We can walk past the vale to sit with Him at the party, and we can stand outside the room holding our comfortable shame with contempt.

We are torn with our paradoxical God... "Jesus I Believe, Help me Lord with my Unbelief" "The true meaning of Christmas is Christs birthday party, I want an iPad" "I love you Lord, I fear what you will allow to build my faith" "You love me Lord, you have allowed evil to rip me in half" "I rebel and clinch my fist and shoot the finger at you Lord, you never leave me and kindly invite me to a safe, warm, loving embrace that fills my heart with hope"...

So, enough with the "we forget the true meaning..." easy guilt inducing missives. Let's talk about the wild ride it is to stand in the tension between our sin and our Savior... He is all about that and I feel close to Him when I see Him teaching, loving, growing, and never forsaking me there.

Advent 12, 13, & 14!! catch up

2010-12-14T08:16:00.004-06:00

The other day I asked a husband "Do you love Christmas?"... he quickly said "no, nope I just hate all the overblown hype and commercialization...". About 30 minutes later his wife was sitting on the couch and he was in the other room - same question - "Do you love Christmas?"... she responded quickly also "I do, I just love it, I love what it means, I love doing things for my kids, it is just fun to celebrate...". Interesting contrast... same roof - polar opposite approach to the BEST time of the year. I think our opinion of Christmas is strongly tied to our stories, and I mean like a welded bond of steel.

You can put me squarely in the "love" camp. I hear the "overblown commercialization" excuse most often from grumpy scroogey grinches. They are SAYING that they choose not to dive in and focus on celebrating life, hope, awakening, salvation, eternal enraptured love... Jesus because they don't like what political correctness and retailers have done to Christmas in the name of money. That is a giant load of steaming... well - they are really saying I feel too much shame in this season and I choose to offer contempt and reluctant routine as a way of coping.

Hmmm, well, what if I applied that same reasoning when it comes around to THEIR birthday celebration? I am certain they would appreciate my focus to be on them and not the burden of shopping for a present, paying for a meal, or thinking of something "nice" to write in a stupid card for them... What if I just boycotted celebrating them and their yearly accomplishment of existing for another 365 days and said - your birthday is just a stereotype, a bullshitteous agglomeration of traditional fattening on chocolate cake with bad singing of a bad song... Well, of course - outside they would say "fine by me, I don't need anything", and inside they would be sinking in self doubt and the shame of not being enough to celebrate.

So you get the point - let's do this thing and do it big baby. It is JESUS for heavens sake! I don't give a crap what the "world" has done with it or is trying to do with it - We are having a month long life-fest... everything we eat and say yummmmm, everything we say with kindness and a smile, every warm fire we sit in front of, every winter ale, fine wine, or eggnog and rum we sip, and every song we listen to and sing... is about HIM, our most awesome and coolest possible savior.

"Jesus, someone has a birthday coming up...??? It's YOU! We are having a Jesus Birthmonth if that is o.k. with you sir - because you are all that is Worthy". "We just want to say, to put it mildly... "love you Lord".

Advent 10 & 11... not me

2010-12-12T02:08:00.002-06:00

Tonight we went and ate a Christmas party dinner with some friends... We had crab stuffed mushrooms, brie with garlic and sweet peppers on crackers... pinwheel fajita steaks, corn, salad, potatoes and green beans... baked Alaska for dessert... Wine, Kahlua and Coffee, Kahlua and Eggnog... It was a Christmas meal dude!

Between appetizers and meal... our host, had taken some money she saved and bought each of us gifts. She wanted us to each say what we thought the gift meant and then she would tell us what she was thinking and we all gave each other words about the gifts. This was all very reminiscent of the community loving and learning we absorbed from Mark and Tracy when they lived here and taught all of us how to share a special meal and tell each other important things about our relationships. It is tragic to not have them with us, and it is important that we honor the legacy they left us.

Anyhow, Kim opened her gift and it was a painting and a poem on it... it was about this simple and important fact - Kim matters - what she offers and who she is matters, it matters when she is present, and painful when she is not... it was very meaningful. I opened mine and it was a picture of the strong, powerful arm of Jesus reaching down from Heaven and grasping the wrist of an arm reaching up for help. This was given to me... I think I knew right away what they wanted to tell me - and I was not going to have anything to do with "being" the arm of Jesus for people needing someone to grab a hold in their distress and not letting go... I saw the nail wound in the wrist of Jesus' arm and I just could not put myself with him there. I immediately said that what it said to me was "I need to be rescued..." I felt a lot of truth for me in that as I stared at the painting - I do need his rescue, I need for him to come for me in many places in my story.

That perspective prepared me to hear what they wanted me to know. I have been that arm for them, I have been the one that did not give up on them... I was told I am a safe man for women - I was told I fight for men with rare persistence. They said a whole lot of words around those concepts and I am more convinced than ever now... I need Jesus to rescue me. I cannot be those things for others unless I surrender, break, and cry out for His grace in the face of all that I do to not need Him in so much of my shame.

I felt proud to be a vehicle for the Strong Arm of Jesus... "If I rise, on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea... Even there, Your hand, will find me - Your Strong Arm will Hold Me Fast... Even there, Your hand, will find me - Your strong arm will hold me fast..."

I love Christmas...

Advent 8 & 9... then He smiled at me...

2010-12-10T08:37:00.003-06:00

The other day I was watching Evan Almighty. That movie is pretty funny and the 2 guys that made it are pretty devoted Catholics so they do put some compelling truth in the dialog.

There are 2 parts that I really like in this movie. One is when Evan's wife and boys leave him, his hair cannot be shaved, God has him in a wool robe that cannot be shed... he walks out on the front lawn as his family drives off and he talks to our invisible God, and says "I know, everything You do, You do because You love me...", and that that instant the sprinkler system comes on and hits him right in the face and Evan cries out "Could You Love me a little LESS!" This strikes a nerve with me right now because I am working on the places I am exasperated with God. When I am at the end of myself, without answers. The truth of what God has "allowed" in my life is overwhelming, I can't "explain" why God allowed my sexual abuse, and why he allowed it to happen 100's of times, etc. etc. etc. My exasperation led to an endpoint where I was simply asked, "What now, what have you done with God, is He in the room?" So here I am:

I can't deny His presence
I can't deny that He is Love
I can't explain anything He has done and "allowed"
I need... I need His rescue, now, in the moment - when I am ready now to surrender

I simply cried out for his rescue with my community surrounding me... and he did. In my repentance for "what I had done with Him" and my tossing him out of that part of my story and my self-goddiness... I acknowledged His Love for me - and in the mess I too feel like saying with a smirk to God "could you love me a little less? God, please..."

This is where the play with God is so humbling and warm and drawing. At the very end of the movie Evan meets with God under a tree and they have a little chat. It is the first conversation they have had since Evan has surrendered, obeyed, and been rescued by God. During the whole conversation God has a smile on his face FOR Evan. The last thing they do... God says "are you ready to do it?"... "Do what?"... God says "the dance! Let's do the dance!". God and Evan do a little jig and it brings me to the brink of tears every time. Morgan Freeman (playing God) captured a look of "delight" on his face for Evan. God was thrilled, delighted, playful, and so loving FOR his son, Evan. It is just a short moment but it provokes a TON of longings.

Hence the title of this post. As I said last Christmas, "The Little Drummer Boy" is my favorite Christmas song and my favorite line in that song is "...then He smiled at me...". At the very deepest core of all of who I am that is what I long for the very most - to look Love right in the eyes - love that has no fetter, complete and thorough for me, to look back at God's face when he captures mine and see... His smile... for me. I can't even imagine it.

No words from Him could communicate more.

Advent 7 - Tradition

2010-12-07T09:02:00.003-06:00

Traditions are memory markers - they are an anchor point for stories. I think traditions are tied comfortably to faith... they should be something you can count on, something kind and consistent that invites you to remember and sense our own emotional cup of hot chocolate with little marshmallows next to a fire with your bulldog sleeping next to you - traditions get us in touch with our gratitude.

I remember when I was little, of the few things I remember that leave me feeling good... when I was growing up I loved decorating for Christmas. I still remember where everything went. We never moved when I grew up so I knew every square inch of our house and I can still tell you, if I sat with my sister we could remember every Christmas decoration and every spot that every one of them belonged. Our dreary home looked great at Christmas... my dad never spent money, and at Christmas he would. What that meant is that my sister and I always had lots of gifts and our stockings were full of trinkets - I was always up at dawn, so excited, picking through my stocking. At Christmas time, always one, or both of my Grandmothers came to stay with us. So the drunken waste and smoking was dramatically curbed and we had this 2 week season of something that felt normal and dreamy.

Then I remember when I hit about 14 or 15... my mom's mom, my Grand"mother" (from Maryland) was in the throws of Alzheimer's... I never saw her again. My dad's mom, my Grand"ma" was living with us and also in the throws of dementia. Needless to say... the decorating had started to fall on my sister and I - but we knew every detail, and we did it - meticulously. Then when I was a junior my sister went to college in Austin and from then, until I was married 11 years later - every year I would go home and pull stuff out and decorate my parents house for Christmas. I was progressively more alone in hanging on to that task as my mom and dad did little to care for... well anything including themselves. Christmas and my home through college and my twenties was a time of dread for me. I was stuck between what I remembered and wanted - and what was happening to my hope. I still loved Christmas outside of my parents house and I spent all sorts of time in the homes of my friends.

So, now my dad is passed away, my mom does not know who I am any longer... and I have my own family. Kim has fond memories of her home being decorated for Christmas, and we always went to Corpus for Christmas for years with our boys. Our wounds kept us from making our home the center of our traditions... and going to Corpus with our boys was good, Kim's family was relatively functional when the boys were little and their house was full of family and kids everywhere - our boys remember all of that fondly, so do I. Then Kim's mom passed away - Kim's dad shit all over his 3 kids (Kim, Kevin, and Mike) and everything we could count on changed as the family fragmented and no longer really talks to one another - it is unreal. So Kim and I began to struggle with who we were at Christmas... what could we hang on to. We got invited to the Johnson's for the first time during the holiday's after that. Well, we were thrown into a family that was all about tradition and memory making. It took a while for us allow ourselves to not feel like intruders there, but we eventually did and we experienced some years of tradition making with that family.

Well, just about 5 years ago Kim and I began to embrace that we needed to hope more here and create more beauty out of what we had left. So we started decorating our house from the places we remembered, from the leftovers of everything that was good about the traditions from our childhoods. The Johnson's are a 1000 miles away now so another shift has occurred in consistency... and - we have enough to hang on to now, that we can decorate, celebrate, elaborate, and promulgate gratitude and love for Love's sake at Christmas.

I remember my traditions, I remember that beauty grows green and colorful in the soil of a rich life and story - one of the primary ingredients in rich soil, is manure - the crap somehow can deepen beauty and give us the gift gratitude, thank you Jesus for how you have loved me.

Advent 5 & 6

2010-12-07T08:31:00.005-06:00

Well as promised... pictures of our Christmas house. And the Fridge is full of meats, and cheeses, and olives, and peppers, and we have Crackers and Bread... and Wine, and some winter beers. Now for the guests!

Pour out the good oil, lavish your celebration because Jesus was Born! He came to us - and... this is not our home yet - He is comming back!

Advent 4... belch...

2010-12-04T08:19:00.007-06:00

Ok, whatever - my friend "invited" me to post with her each day of Advent... that is the symbolic 24 days leading up to the celebration of the day Christ was born. I just am going to have to be more creative with my titles though... so today I have gas, so I denoted that right up front.

Our advent around here really just started yesterday though. I took off of work and put up our 2 Christmas Trees and cleared out the "every day" decorations to make room for the Christmas ones, and lastly I put up all of our outside lights.

One of the things I did while preparing the outside of our house for lighted mayhem, was to carry a big-ass boulder from the ditch near our house to put on the back of our basketball goal so it would not blow over again. All the kids on our street use our goal because it is in the cul-de-sac and, well, because it is "our" house! So... you see that big mutha... I "carried", I picked it up and carried it around 80 yards from the ditch to this resting place. Well, at one precarious point in the journey I had to step up around 1.5 feet... I did not make it! The extra 120 pounds or so was too much and I fell. As I was falling I tossed the rock in the grass in front of me, twisted my ankle, bashed my knee on the cement in front of me, landed on my back and scraped my elbow. CRAP. So I got up and limped it over here to its spot. I only say this to let you know, this was the beginning of the day! I did not want to take the time to go get my wheelbarrow, ugghhh. Anyhow, I did the house decorating, 3 hours of roof time, with a sprained swollen ankle, and oozing wounds on my knee and elbow. I did it though, I just toughed it out. I will show you pictures of the house when the inside is done.

This is the other little addition to our home for this season... He is a mini-Australian Shepard... his name is Bebo (because my wifes favorite musician is Bebo Norman) mainly because it makes a good dog name. I am glad that is not true of my name! But Bebo is a blue eyed little fuzzball and he is a lot of fun. We have been waiting to pick him up for 7 weeks and we just got him a few days ago.

So, our Thanksgiving sucked, there is no other way to put that. The day was a saga of less than glory that we will laugh at in 23 years... Kim's dad, her abuser, gave her hell the next day about how she did not come through for him... and that took 2 days to find light again. Anyhow, the door to Advent was not something to skip through this year. AND, here we are... Tracy invited me to hope with her and so with a big F.U. to evil - that is what I am doing!

Kim made / sewed a SpongeBob lounging robe for our son Reyn yesterday while I flitted around with trees and lights. It turned out fun and she did great making it. We had Blue Moon's with Oranges (because it was 77 and sunny yesterday!) and we worked around the house making ready for Christmas. Even with all the crap - we have a ton to be thankful for - a ton - and we will keep on, keeping on. I will take pictures of the house tonight so you can judge my Adventous Christmas light adornment while wounded masterpiece!

Here is some stuff...

2010-11-03T09:20:00.002-05:00

Here is some stuff going on for me this week...

I have been asked to leave my Director of Applied Research position at work and become the Director of Application Infrastructure Architecture. Well, that is cool and I can do that well because I know all that stuff. Here is what has been said to me in all of that:

I was the only candidate for the app infrastructure job that the architects respected enough to do that job well and lead them
The architects are excited and thrilled that I am their new boss
The researchers I am leaving, several of them have told me I was the best leader/boss/manager they have ever had in their careers and that was around 75 years combined experience talking
They have done all they want to "do" at work, and work is no longer about what they are working on, it is about who they work for and they want to enjoy coming to work... and I was a huge part of the keys to that for them
Two of them want me to take them with me to my new team, whatever it takes

Here is the thing... those are high compliments to who I am and how I have chosen to do my job in a bit of rebellion to the status quo of management... AND... I am having what feels like an impossible time feeling anything but shame... like it is not me they are talking about, I have made too many mistakes, and they just don't know... they can't know and say those things.

So that is sort of no fun...

ALSO - I told my 11 year old, turning 12 this month a "Blue Moon with an Orange" (that would be appropriate and mild) version of my story last night. He has not been sexualized in a damaging way yet, and it was time he and I had more words about what is going to happen to him and his body sexually in the next 3 years... so we did. Anyhow, it went well, and he listened, and he made pained scrunched up faces. And he said my story felt "scarey" to him. I told him it was scarey to me too. I hope God spares him what He has allowed in my life - AND - I told him he is enough... whatever comes his way.

ALSO - Kim is in Alaska, leading a Beauty for Ashes (SALTS Alaska) group full of native women with a first time leader that is native also. It is going very well, she is being who she is and it has been very good so far - AND - I am very proud of her. That is my "very" paragraph.

ALSO - I can feel evil swirling... comming for my 16 year old Jacob - it pisses me off and, it scares me, and... what will Jacob decide in the face of choosing. What will God allow?

Scurrying

2010-10-24T18:40:00.002-05:00

Today Kim and I and Reyn (our 11 year old) went to 1 o'clock service over at (CBC) Community Bible Church here in San Antonio. It is a mega-church and fully embraced in the arms of evils plan for the human-run-pagan-churchy-organism as a "church"... and... they have good worship, and messages that Reyn will even sit and listen to. He asks to go and that is a great thing. I don't really sweat the church thing anymore - I hope I have taught my boys this... Jesus is the main focus, Church's are just places... often good places, lots of good people there, and it is way down on the list of things you should feel guilty about. We do Home church a lot and we all lay on Kim and I's bed and talk about Jesus and stuff - our bulldog and both cats ALWAYS assume they must be square in the middle of home church.

Anyhow, we went to CBC, the music was really good, and the head pastor preached (usually his son does the 1 o'clock service)... this time it was Robert Emmit though. I enjoy his sermons, he is a kind and simple man... that tells LOTS of stories - that is why his church is mega and why people will follow him. I have never heard him, or known him to lead people to places that Jesus would not smile about... so that is good. AND TODAY... today was a little wild.

The topic of his sermon was "suicide"... yep. Two families literally ran out of the auditorium with kids in tow. He pulled no punches and even imitated the cries and moans of the bereaved that he has heard as he visits homes where people have killed themselves and lay dead in the next room while he holds the survivors hearts together. AND YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN EVIL SCURRY!!! It was wild and I could feel it moving like wild fire all over the auditorium. As he started the sermon the movement, restlessness, children's cries, fidgeting, and discomfort was shocking almost. It took 30 minutes for things to settle down and for the angels to apparently deal with what had been named. It was like Emmit said "we are going to deal with SUICIDE" and "WHAM!"... all hell woke up and ran for cover as it was named like a seething bitch! Emmit told stories, named the truth about what God said through Paul in Acts about killing yourself... "Stop, don't do it, we are all here for you!" and he even called the suicide hot line on his iPhone and talked to the lady there over his microphone.

Anyhow, it was cool and I was glad I was there. He told a story of another man named Emmit. He was beaten, sexually abused, verbally abused, and assaulted for many years as a little boy... all before the age of 10. And that was just the beginning because it continued as an onslaught until he was in his 20's. Emmit was his piece-of-shit fathers name so he ended up changing his name to Tyler... Tyler Perry. He has written all of his story, made plays about his stories, and made movies about his story. All of Tyler Perry's work emanates from his love for Jesus and his tragic story. I had heard that it is a good thing to watch EVERYTHING that Tyler Perry makes because some of him will be in all of it.

Pastor Emmit correctly said, "you are your story, you will never loose the trauma of your life - you just learn to live courageously with it". He also said your story, however traumatic, is never wasted - it is meant to be used to help others... to show others that whatever has happened -

There IS HOPE!

Very true...

A Womans Place...

2010-10-20T06:19:00.002-05:00

Is a Woman's place in the kitchen... not forcibly but PLEAASE! My wife is a really good cook! I have a friend Brad who's wife is certainly a good cook, AND, yes please - can Brad be in there also because he is a master of meat... simply put - the man turns his guests into drooling beggars regressed to child speak... "I have more meat now, please, yes I like it wif da sauce - please now more for to go in my mouth and belly Mr. Brad?"

I am now salivating at my permanently etched taste bud memory of Mr. Brad's Ribs... DANG! Anyhow, the point of this magical post is to say this - A woman's place, is in the Battle. They are awesome there. We were listening to Allender vocabulize his way through an explanation of some of this and there were 2 sentences he said that spawned much thought.

FIRST - most of our formation-Christian-forefathers based their understanding, rule making, and treatment of women in the church and society on Aristotle's theory of the female. You see Aristotle was confused by women (who isn't)... and instead of letting that confusion make him curious about these wonderful and amazing creatures, he simply went with what evil spoke into his life... and he wrote, as he believed "Women are FLAWED men"... And that just fit so nicely for all sorts of dismissive submissive and repressive treatment of women over the eons as more and more genius's adopted this unspoken baseline as the truth.

The feminine perspective is essential in ALL decision making. Churches should not move one inch without including a woman in the decision - and what will you have when you include women in your decisions??? HMMM - Well, you will have complete and utter chaos, and, you will make FAR better decisions.

You see men, we were created to lead women into battle - not "rescue" them. Eldridge is a good man - and he is an Aristolian practitioner. Women don't need men to rescue them in their desperate need to know they are beautiful and worth pursuing... Women need men to get off their ass, break through the front lines and fight like hell with their strength. Violent men will take the Kingdom - we storm the front and engage the enthusiasm that evil brings to the beginning of the battle.

As we engage, fight, and gain that initial push... our enemies tire just a bit but they are holding and maybe even gaining ground while incurring considerable loss - but it is a fight. Then it happens... in brief respite evil looks up to the ridge line and understands that it is in a fierce battle on the valley floor and now... now it begins to loose heart because it knows, it is afraid - and one unifying thought crosses its collective mind in that defeating moment -

"Oh shit... the women are here!"

Together... we reflect God in powerful strength and beauty that is as He intended it. We are then more than conquerors. So go today, engage, fight for your life - and let yourself be curious about what confuses you.

The user...

2010-08-15T10:08:00.002-05:00

I use god and in that he is a little "h" and a little "g" because he is me and god "liness" is laughable. When I look at what I want from God it is all about my circumstances and changing them. The longest part of my prayers are the classifieds. I guess that makes me a hedonist and even more in need...

So... realizations are good - for now, I will not sit idly by. (not putting an "I vow to" in that sentence or an "anymore" at the end...) I will live with the "for now" because I am pretty sure idly-by will sneak back into my life for a visit at some point - f#%&in evil. Amy Anderson was on a "deal" not so many years ago to stop with all the "extreme" talk and I just loved it. We pepper our language with finalities, big emphasizers, and always-and-foreverisms that make everything we say... essentially untrue and beyond our abilities - we sabotoge the whole Chicago-Style-Hotdog, the whole Chicken-Enchalada with Gwakamaly sauce... with Gimungous words.

I'll live a step at a time here and for the moment - not sit idly by waiting for God to answer my ads... I will wait for Him to finish growing my heart according to the plan before I get to go home, I've been thinking a lot about Heaven lately... something must be brewing in the big picture.

Hit me later

2010-07-21T08:59:00.003-05:00

Yesterday I could not believe what I had just texted to my son... I guess you know you are the parent of boys when this is the only text you sent to your kids yesterday:

"o.k. but don't blow anything up until your mother gets home, our neighbors work at night so they are probably asleep right now..."

I sent that message from a meeting I was in with some lawyers about 3rd party intellectual property, and about 10 minutes after I sent it I bacame quiet and sat back. Because the words in the text felt normal.

They are normal arn't they?

Wonders...

2010-07-20T06:24:00.002-05:00

Chesterton wrote... "we are perishing for want of wonder, not for want of wonders".

I think about heaven a bit - hopefully I do that because somewhere inside God whispers "this is not your home...". Anyhow, I sometimes wonder if there will be roads and cars and businesses, etc. etc. in heaven? I know we would all be working for free and the work would feel awesome because we would see our role in the "big picture"... something to wonder about anyway. But my point is that when I wonder about heaven, and I say something like "I wonder if there will be cars in heaven", it is because I am dumbified by the miracle of the "car". I cannot imagine how proud God is of this miraculous invention. It is just something that is in front of me every day so that is why I think about it... There are even more amazing vehicles and contraptions that demonstrate the recursive mathematics of the miraculous - it is just easy to think deeply about the "car" because they are plodding around me every day.

I was reading Leonard Read (I, Pencil) and I was so happy to know that I wondered the wondering of Chesterton and Read - I was like "YES! I wonder about this TOO!". Read's point in "I, Pencil" that the existence of the pencil confirms without question the existence of God just puts that much more emphasis on the awesomeness of the car. The invention and thoughts of literally millions of people across the globe are responsible for the "pencil"... and there is no human mastermind that globalized to bring the pencil into being - the unseen force, the harmonic of God allows and orchestrates such possibilities. He is so, so still creating beauty every day if we can see.

Evolutionists like to think this is the "collective brain" evolving when "ideas have sex" (hold your coffee! Idea's having sex to an evolutionary hedonist bitch means that one idea inherits properties of previous ideas that gave birth to it - it is true, lots of stuff in evolutionary theory is true... except the theory itself!). Atheists are so silly sometimes. This dude from Cambridge was yapping about the collective brain and its natural mystery - I was thinking how blind fools are when their answer about whether God exists slaps them in the mouth DURING their bloviations about how things come to be in the absence of any Creator. They are so allowing of the mysterious idea of something like a nearly infinite "collective brain" (so obviously God), and so unwilling to let that be something / someone that loves them.

When I wonder about the miracle of the car, and I wonder about sitting on a porch with friends on a slightly foggy morning overlooking a mountain pass, drinking coffee and eating doughnuts that don't make you fat, in heaven... it makes me less fearful of emptiness and pain. It makes me long for home and worried about the people around me that aren't going home. It makes my day colorful and I get perspective about the beauty of God's smile all around me... and I want to join in with it. The hugeness of God and what he has done, is doing, and is... is freaky and scary - and even in the face of all that "size", He still is a place I am drawn to walk towards. That is the miracle of Jesus I guess, and their most prized creation of all... relationship. Kiss your car today, it's a miracle!

P.S. Jacob (my son) and his friend and I blew up a water bottle yesterday with muratic acid (toilet bowl cleaner) and a bit of tin foil. It is wild! All fathers must do this with your sons!... Tear 4 three inch squares of tin foil off, wad them up, and put them in an empty water bottle. Put about 1/2 inch of muratic acid based toilet bowl cleaner in the bottle, put the cap on and shake it for about 5 seconds... then toss it in the grass and walk back about 30 feet. In about 30 seconds it will expand and blow that bottle up in a puff of smoke - it is loud and AWESOME! Anyhow it was fun, DON'T use Ammonia - you will blow your hand of shaking the bottle!

Where did my words go?

2010-07-13T11:17:00.002-05:00

Somehow, over the past 7 months - the richness of what I feel, the pain of what I feel, and the humor in what I feel - seemed better swallowed than shared. It is strange when what rumbles beneath and above feels more like a meal to be choked down quickly because... well you don't know what would be more painful. When what is inside may be dissappointing or hurtful to someone else, however true, I think I always opt to swallow and damage myself in lieu of explaining myself... self-protecting bull.

It is all terrifically dysfunctional and complete crap. The great silencing - the enemy laughs and I get a headache. I feel like this soup of sabatoge and strength, kindness and anger, hurt and hope... You bring all those things to a rolling boil and it is hard to be "careful". Sometimes, when you are a quiet person - it helps to "blurt" what you feel. I am not really a quiet person, so when I blurt it is generally divulgence without honor.

And be not swayed dear readers... I KNOW I AM BEING VAGUE! Hey, I wrote something! So this is a step towards beauty and finding an honorable voice for the passion of what God is iterating in my soul. Our entire life story, our themes, and even our scenes are like fractals of the Gospel story... you can frame the big story in His story, and you can frame most of your scenes in His story also, like a snow globe! I am trying not to fear emptiness and pain... because then I will be reduced to a quest for changed circumstances, self control, and a "better" life. And all that bullshit has nothing to do with God and His rescue.

Crab wrote... something that C.S. Lewis said - "God is NOT safe, and... He IS good."
That's some true shite there! Young one, this is for you, and it is rediculous!

...

2009-12-30T07:23:00.004-06:00

When I write, as I mentioned in my last post - I often use "...", slashes "/", dashes "-" and anything else that would cause you to pause... dramatically / thematically / imaginatively - with tickling prickles of baited breath waiting for the next words! I think I am a fan of the "dramatic pause"! I love to be moved and I think I love to move others.

What I must move towards is the plunge into the waters of dreams, hope, and imagination where I would engage the fierce and fantastical glories of bloody battle. The places I could really taste the wine, food, and laughter in the warmth of victory... and where I dare to receive the embrace of love and comfort from my family, my friends. This would all be the commitment to more, to walk in what I know. This... instead of standing numb on the shores of fantasy, self, almost, really close, and ultimate - simple - pitiful - lessdom.

The other night my wife said, this is as simple as opening a window, walking through the door, taking a step, etc. We have labored to reach the shore of hope. We have labored to open our eyes to the reality that we have arrived there... and now we labor to jump in. What will it mean, what will it require, who am I in there? I am sick of being a toe-dipping-bitch for evil. I want to run my ass into that water with wild-eyes and enraged glory... and...

...and, it is terrifying, almost paralyzing - and I don't want to go it alone. I am not seeing a bunch of people out there waiting for me and yet I do see some that I love to no end. I don't want to go this alone and I don't think there is any other way to go it. The paradox is that taking this adventure as an individual is the only pathway to experiencing this adventure with my wife, my boys, my friends, my community. I am not responsible for their plunge, I am responsible for mine, I am responsible to show them it is glorious, it can be done... to lead.

The Lord only invites you here, he does not push - He does not pimp you into life and he did not die on the cross for all my sins, rise from the dead in the ultimate act of glorious love... just to kick my ass. He does not leave me alone on the shore either - He loves me where I am and He has walked a long journey with me to get here. With his hand on my shoulder - He just looks at me, at the water, back at me with a closed lip smile - with loving unwavering eyes, and a very gentle and slight nod of his head sideways towards the danger. He knows I can do it, and He WILL go with me.

SO... I am standing at the edge in a "..." dramatic pause. What shall a man be made of, what indeed?

Drummer Boy

2009-12-22T06:24:00.002-06:00

My favorite Christmas song is The Little Drummer Boy... I am not completely sure why but it is. I have about 4 or 5 versions of it on my iPod and most of them are rock versions. I don't like happy bouncy or hip hop covers of it either. I like versions that grind a bit, and that sing it slow, low, and serious - still not sure why.

So (it probably is bad writing to start sentences with "so"... Katy? Lib? It is how I am thinking so I always start sentences that way..., I also am addicted to "..." the dramatic pause, I think I am way more dramatic than I would like to believe, hmmmm...). O.K... SO, what I know I do like about the Little Drummer Boy (LDB) is the story. I remember about 10 years ago I was listening to a big choir serious low version of that song and I shut my eyes; I watched a moving story of that song in my mind. My personal story gave me a blessing and a curse that way. I can disassociate and basically check out of any moment, quickly and thoroughly, and I can be in a better place. I was alone a lot when I was little and had plenty of reasons to "check-out" growing up in the chaotic debasement of my young life. It is a curse because leaving the room in my mind allows me to leave you... It allows me to have conversations where I am understood, then I forget to have the real conversation with real people. It is a blessing I guess because I have a lot of longings born there and I imagine all manner of the sublime. My question to me would be, "Who are you in your imagination Russell, what do you have, and do, and what do you say and who hears you?" (I know someone that is wondering that).

So with my eyes shut and the song building, I was swept to the part of the story where the little drummer boy says "I played my best for Him..." - and the song lingered there and I had some tears. I really long to metaphorically "play my best" for Him, I long to war with Him, to honor Him, to be pleasing to Him - I wanted to be the Drummer Boy playing my very best for Him.

The next lyric really touched me deeply in that moment and it is why I love this song -

"Then He smiled at me..." - I cried.

Of course He did, and it was a moment where I felt Him smile, at me. It was a wink where I felt understood and enjoyed and I was able to receive it. I have the most difficult time feeling enjoyed - I am enjoyed in places and I work hard to create moments where people "enjoy...", whether I am in the middle of them or not -and- I have a hard time "feeling" enjoyment when it is directed at me. I know betrayal has robbed that, I know when I understood that I was "used" for my abusers depraved salacity and not "enjoyed" for who I am... all those years - Well, when I felt the Lord's smile in that imagining moment so many years ago it built another bridge between us that I can cross at anytime. That bridge is in a beautiful place and I hope he sees me from it and smiles.

Anyway, it is Christmastime and I was sitting in my living room with all my Christmas lights on, next to our Christmas tree, petting my bulldog Lucy and listening to Christmas music at 6:00 a.m. with coffee - and I thought about the Little Drummer Boy - and I thought about the Smile of the Lord - and I thought I would write something.

Where was God?

2009-11-22T11:02:00.003-06:00

Yesterday I watched a show on the discovery channel called "WWII in HD". It is the result of a team of people scouring the world for unseen footage of WWII and re-mastering it as it were to offer it in HD... whatever, it is the unseen footage part that is interesting. This documentary came with footage from both theatres of war during that time (Pacific and Europe). At one point, it was April of 1945 in Europe and this is when we were moving towards Berlin. The Russians already had it surrounded and there was no fight left in the Germans that were not in Berlin. Well, the convoys heading towards the fight were very long and what was noted by the narrator here is that the convoy had abruptly stopped. This was because Americans looked off the road they were on to the right and about 500 yards away was their first encounter with what was up to that point only understood as a rumor. They were outside of one of Hitlers 1500 concentration camps where approximately 14,000,000 people were murdered, about half of which were Jews and the other half of which were "undesirables", interesting how we don't concentrate on the undesirables too much... (suspected gays, free thinkers, rebels, and... Christians).

This is where the "new" footage was stark. It was all in color so the blood was visible and everything else was gray, the faces, everything. Gray was the color of lifeless hell, and the blood... These were not still pictures of the piles of bodies, they were movies... the scenes were from Dachau, I recognized places I had walked this summer, there were piles of bodies stacked 11 feet high 65 years ago only 20 feet from where I stood on a gray day in July. Here are the words of soldiers and nurses that were there:

"It was often hard to tell the living from the dead, they did not move, and they breathed very slowly"
"You saw but you did not see. You heard but you did not hear. You smelled, but you did not know what you were smelling... the human mind was not meant to take something like this in"

Then a nurse asked a great question in the face of this 12 year dance with evil... "Where was God? Where are you God?" That seems to be a common question around me lately. We ask that question in the macro, and in the micro. We ask that in the face of 14,000,000 tortured and murdered. I ask that in the face of 6 out of every 10 people that walk this earth sexually abused - 2 out of 10 having suffered insane physical and sexual harm. I ask that in the face of my own story and feel so ashamed that I think I deserved it... it was nothing... I am of no consequence. I ask that when my 15 year old goes through some very scary set of unexplainable, then explainable... and all painful medical symptoms.

Where are you God? God, please do not allow this...

What do we do with God who "allowed" 14,000,000... who allows 6 and 2 out of every 10... who allows, and allows, and allows. The data is everywhere and you really can't make sense out of it. Really horrible things happen to good people, they happen to bad people... Really good things happen to good people, and evil people seem to sometimes enjoy freedom and luxury. All of this also seems to happen on huge scales, and on little "one-off" moments in an individuals life.

This is not a "it's all His fault" offering... it is just data that is in all of our faces and screaming for an answer - and my friends, there is not one... yet. I guess - God took the risk of "allowing" us the freedom to choose to love him and each other, or not. God allowed freedom, and we, well I for one don't quite know what to do with it. I am free to live and love and glory in all he made me to be, and I am free to f*#k that, murder that, agree with everything but that, and just wade through it dead until I die for real... and then, oops, I get to live in beauty for all eternity - what the...?

There is no telling all the horror God has saved me/us/humanity from in this world... there is only this paradoxical God, again - He allows, He saves, He allows, He spares - and there is no formula for getting to experience only one side of that paradox. I waste a lot of time trying to understand the horrifying side, trying to only experience the saved-from side, wanting to live in love, and joining evil to shit on my glory.

So, I am free - we fight for it, we sing about it, Jesus died to gift us with it - and I am drowning in what to do with it. Where was God? Where is God...? We heal our wounds with the tears from His sorrow over all we suffer, and we stretch our hands out wide in the comfort and warmth He shines on us over His joy in his beloved children. We are all now and always have been, face to face with God.

Germany... Part II Schonblick

2009-08-10T06:35:00.008-05:00

Well... I keyed this post right after I keyed "Germany Part I" and then I have been to lazy to get back to finishing this one... -AND- Here is is -

We left Ulm after our great lunch and programmed Beatchrice to take us to Schwabisch Gmund. This is where the Christian Resort Center built in 1910 called Schonblick is located and where the Befreit Leben (Living Free / European SALTS variant) conference was to be held. We arrived in the rain and Mark was kind in getting Kim and I to our room. It was a little dorm like room with 2 separated twin bed built-in's, whatever, we were up for it. This is also the moment we first experienced the zero air conditioning phenomenon in Europe regardless of the temps. So during our 10 day stay at Befreit Leben we had some pretty warm and sweaty hours to navigate but mostly... the weather is perfect for no air conditioners. On a side note, there are some things to laugh about with the Germans... like, a "breeze" on you will make you infertile - hence the superstitious old lady at Befreit Leben that kept closing the windows when it was about 88 inside and 68 outside to keep the "breeze" from blowing on her - at the age of about 67 - from being infertile (or maybe she was protecting other ladies in the room)... Whatever - That was a VERY ANNOYING superstition! Also, the news was reporting in Salzburg and repeated to us by locals, that they were going to outlaw "baggy swimsuits" for men in favor of ALL SPEEDO'S!!! Reason: "Baggy swimsuits take too much water out of the pool, and baggy swimsuits promote disease..." - this is believed to be true by the Austrians so we Americans just looked at each other and nodded our heads as we mumbled a short affirming "hmm" to acknowledge we heard what was said. Privately, later, we laughed at that one for sure. Anyhow after arriving at Schoenblick we napped a short bit and then met Mark to go to our first leaders meeting.

When we arrived at the meeting room doors we were immediately found by Beth, Karin, Hazel, Elizabeth, Lisa, Richard, and another Karen... all perfect English speakers! They were all either American missionaries or Austrians raised by at least one American parent or married to an American and all of them spoke English wonderfully. Immediately a lot of anxiety melted away for me because I knew I could contribute if I could communicate my story, and what I know about loving the wounded in their stories. Karin Foley was in charge of the whole 9 yards, she was all of 31 years old, brilliant, beautiful, full of energy, and full of Party Girl chaos and fun. She was an Austrian that had an American father and was married to an American so she spoke English without flaw. She was the boss and we did whatever she needed... we became more than I think she let herself hope for, as did our little team did to us. Our "little team" was this:

Peter - English speaking Austrian Worship Leader for Befreit Lieben. He was awesome. He was very patriotic to Austria, loved bier and taught us lots about it. He was loving, hugging, story telling, and wounded... and he had his tears. He is the man in charge of Campus Crusade for Christ for Europe... that was cool.
Uta - She spoke very little English, she understood more than she spoke. She did not know what to think about us Americans and was disappointed that our leadership group was going to be speaking mostly English - she was beautiful in her disappointment. She had a heart that melted yours and she had the most wonderful words for our stories even though they had to be translated line by line to her and from her. I loved her name more than any other I heard and that, as it turns out, was very important to her. Uta was Karin's #1 and was the conference administrator.
Sagen - Blessing (Brigitte)... Brigitte ran the bookstore and had a very hard story. Us Americans pressed into her a couple of days into our journey, led my Mark, and we had her name her dignity. It was extremely difficult for her but we called her a blessing and we wanted her to say the words "I am a Blessing"... when they finally crossed her lips we rejoiced and it changed her. We made her a name tag with Sagen on it - "Blessing" and she hung onto it with her life. Brigitte started stepping down the path again with a new name that day, it was awesome.
Elizabeth - American missionary to Germany and former SALTS leader. She is a nice girl that needed us to press into truth with her... we did that to varying success. She was disrupted by how playful our group was (and it was a lot of fun), but she had some classic moments of hilarity that she threw in that were lovely and brilliant. She took me to the doctor on Sunday to get some antibiotics for my throat and she took wonderful care of me there with the German health care system. She is a trained nurse and was the conference Prayer Team leader.
Tracy - She got to teach, help teach the coaches... coaching techniques, and put their ALTS (Advanced Leader Training) on a more informed pathway. I was jealous of all Tracy was to do with the conference because I wanted to help so much more... I had to find my way to support and provide life and help Tracy with all that was needed. Tracy was full of grace, strength, and kindness throughout - she was full of gentle truth for the European leadership which was received completely by some and defensively but still received by others. In short Tracy did GREAT, she was a wise resting place of dignity for Karin all week and that brought a huge blessing to the conference.
Kim - My wife got to just be herself and support, play, and love everyone there. She did great offering herself and her love (with the exception of the old lady that kept closing the windows!) to everyone. Brigette, Uta, and Karin all bonded with Kim and she was able to help, play, and give to them with much fullness. Kim brought beauty and fun to the Befreit Leben staff... she taught them 3 new line dances on the first night of leaders weekend! She was enjoyed tremendously, and she enjoyed them tremendously - she was just perfectly herself and just perfect for what was needed at Befreit Leben for the week.
Mark - He was just being Mark. Jumping around speaking broken German with all he could and speaking English, with a German Accent (with some Southern India thrown in because he can't help it) to everyone that he encountered. He did great and the Europeans thought he was Foy Cool. They embraced how hard he worked to be a part of them and how he loved and showed respect for their culture by learning and trying out everything with a smile. Mark had some loooonnnnng meetings with some hurting German men that needed his story and his counsel. They respect schooling greatly so Mark could sit with integrity in his multi-degreed status (undergraduate and theological graduate degrees) and his position of "Pastor" with these men. They would sort of "test" his bible pedigree at first and then he could dive into their stories and pain - and he would offer life there. Mark was full of energy and wide-eyed fun the WHOLE trip as he vigorously lived out one of his long held dreams... awesome.

So... that was our leadership team, and it was life changing. I have such love and fond memories of those 10 days - I will NEVER forget them and I will hold the details, scenes, smiles, and stories of those individuals and that conference as one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

Here are some Pictures:

Schloenblick, our Group at and Ice Cream place, Uta, Karin and Kim, Brigette and Kim,

Bier's at the end of the day, Tracy Teaching, Mark and I "blessing" this awesome woman, and a Group Session

Germany... Part I

2009-08-09T05:37:00.008-05:00

First we went to Germany... after about 17 hours of flying and airports, we got off the plane a bit groggy and made our way through customs. A memory that has continued to elude Kim in our half conscious state of no-sleep and "what in the hell is everyone saying in this angry language and I can't read any signs anymore". We spent an uncomfortable 15 minute moment sitting in our rent-a-car from Avis as it was soooo European and, well, we could not figure out how to start it. Embaaaarassssinnng... I claimed to be "above it all" as I was in the back seat and if I really had to figure it out I would but, well, you know... I needed to let Mark feel good about himself. The all-German owners manual was no help whatsoever as this polysyllabic language of tongue mangling exhaustion has words that are GIGANTIC and seem to yell at you with some sort of scary dogmatism. There was a big GIANT button that said "Power", there was no "key" per se' just a remote thingy. So, after 15 minutes of idiocy we went and got the militant female rent-a-car parking attendant to come and show us. Well, we only needed to have the remote deally-mabob inside the car somewhere and we needed to push the power button of course... AT THE SAME TIME as we pushed the brake! Well, this sent Mark over the edge as he swore to the gods of chaos that he had done EXACTLY that and it did not work. However, it worked this time and the 323 times after that now that we knew what to do... so off we went.

First we went to Ulm. In Ulm there is a bombastic monolith of a Catholic Church that has an absurdly gargantuan steeple / bell tower called, ironically, Munster. A cool thing to see by any account. Now going to Ulm presented us with our first opportunity to drive our rental car of mystery on the infamous... Autobahn. Every highway in Germany that has an "A" as the first letter in the name is an Autobahn, A10, A21, etc... And yes, there are no speed limits on the autobahn only suggestions for sane people. Well, by this time, approximately 9 minutes into our European journey, Marks mind was lit up like a Christmas tree and he was almost convulsing with energy because he was in Europe and this was all he has thought about for months and months and we were in Europe and there were man-pri's everywhere (Capri's for men) and he was in a fast sedan-ish car and we were on the autobahn and it had a fancy heads up computer display GPS with a seductive yet "firm" nice girl from northern England speaking to him about where to go!!! We later named this voice Beatchrice" because sometimes she was "Betty", sometimes she was "Bitch", and mostly she was RIGHT and she was "Beatchrice". Anyhow, our Party Guy was in overload and things got interesting quickly.

As Mark was talking about Ulm, Europe, dreams, the here-and-now, "can you believe this", and memories in a blinding stream of consciousness... while adjusting the car seat, playing with Beatchrice the GPS concubine and other gadgets in the car... ALL SIMULTANEOUSLY... he was accelerating to over 110mph on a crowded autobahn. He was the only one talking and moving as we were all gripping the leather and digging our fingernails in for a firm grip! The only words besides Marks were from Tracy as she said his name "MARK" in 4 different ways, tones, lengths, intonations, meanings and intensities! Finally things settled down, Mark was content with about 88mph and we made our way to Ulm.

After getting Mark to park and under-paying the meter (causing Mark in his hypervigellence, a good quality in a tour guide, to run back to the car 3 times during our visit to add money to the meter, go Mark!)... we made our way to the Munster, and it was a big mother-munster! We brilliantly decided to climb it, after all, what's 986 steps between friends? It is INSANE that is what it is and the tough people on this little jingle figured that out about 258 steps into the climb, i.e. Tracy and I went back down and sat in some lawn chairs in the middle of the square in front of the church. The party people with us, i.e. Mark and Kim climbed, and climbed, and climbed about 50 steps from the top and took pictures and laughed and had a grand old time... goody for them! Tracy and I were however quite impressed with their ability to climb because it was freaking grueling.

We went and got some Euros at the bank and then found a little Bistro to eat outside and have some lunch. I was nervous to engage the Germans but we found a table, got a sweet waitress

that spoke a little bit of English and was very kind. We fumbled our way through our first German menu and came out the other side with 2 ham and Caprise' Ciabata sandwiches for Kim and I, an awesome Caprise' salad for Tracy, and another really nice and full of "stuff" salad for Mark. Throw in some European bread and 4 great German Biers and it was our first deliciouso European meal! We finally relaxed and totally enjoyed our lunch and our introduction to Germany.

This was just the first morning in Europe... It was a great trip and a great morning. I will write about going to the Befreit Lieben conference next and how all of that felt.

Back from Europe

2009-08-08T07:20:00.013-05:00

Well, I have been in Europe since July the 22nd and we just got back Thursday the 6th at 9:00 p.m... There was little to no Internet available where we were in Germany, Austria, or Switzerland so connecting and writing proved to be nearly impossible. So, for everyone that has said or heard "Europe is soooo far ahead of us in technology and adoption" - not so true. I thought I would write kind of an overview of my experience of Europe... Then I can write about some more individual topics in the coming days.

The way Kim and I got to Europe was through an invitation to help at a "sister" conference to the Open Hearts Ministry to the wounded Survivors of Abuse Leadership Training Seminar (SALTS). The one done in Germany is called Befreit Lieben... it loosely means "Living Free". They took the Open Hearts material and made it culturally relevant to that area of Europe so as to have the most impact. The Befreit Lieben organization is growing and serving to minister to the abused and wounded as well as training people to do this ministry back in their home towns... just as Open Hearts does over here. So, that is why we went to Europe and we took an extra 6 days with Mark and Tracy to travel around a little bit... it was a wild ride.

So, in the coming days I hope to write on the following Europe topics from my view...

Germany... Hearing your Story in German...
Austria...
Switzerland...
Did you know that Jesus is helpless, weak, and in fact dead... apparently
You need professional help...

I only watched about 23 minutes of TV in 16 days... that was cool, that made me feel good - I realized how much angry energy I derive from the news and talk radio. I did not come back all laid back and Europa Cool, don't worry about that, but I did realize that:

Europeans find it offensive, and will NOT, work over any meal... food is to be enjoyed, and enjoyed while connecting with real live people, period.
I don't need as much food as I eat here... Europe was good for my regular addiction to food - I lost 4 pounds in Europe and I ate mostly awesome meals 3 times a day
Beer (Bier) and Wine are staples and that was... well... that was AWESOME!!! The Christian Resort Center we stayed at in Germany had a "honor system" refrigerator right out side of the cafe where everyone ate completely full of 4 kinds of beer and 5 to 7 kinds of wine. A bier in Germany, Austria, or Switzerland is cheaper than a soda by HALF usually!
The Germans are meticulous about the beauty and cleanliness of their country, everywhere was manicured... their messes were manicured (literally and conceptually). The Austrians are not far behind the Germans - they are a little more laid back so they don't get to the messes as quickly. The Swiss are drowning in so much beauty that they... well... they are sort of neutral on the whole mess thing and that my friends, was to be expected.
I was loved well by all 3 cultures, I got some American disdain thrown my way... from all 3 cultures - nothing "awful" just stuff I noticed and am probably guilty of with the nationals here in San Antonio when I sense they are "ignoring" our American culture.
We are not hated in Europe, sorry Barrack. Europeans are as interested in America as we are in Europe... they see America as a place where anything is possible and they just don't hate us at all, I found that to be a myth among the wonderful and average Europeans I hung around. They laugh at us about some stuff and we laugh at them about some stuff and that is totally cool - I love the Germans, Austrians, and Swiss - and I think they completely enjoyed this group of Americans.
If you say a word that is pronounced "Say-Gen" in Germany, Austria, or Switzerland without context you could be saying "Blessing", "to saw", "Goat", or "to win"... we had a lot of laughs about this at Befreit Lieben after we gave Breggite (Bre-geet-uh) a new name "Blessing" after having her name her dignity out loud. Something we brought to them that was lovely.
Did I mention that bier and wine are as normal as water to have with lunch and dinner? So, cool.
Beauty and Order diminish ones view that God is "needed"
Germans, Austrians, and Swiss... love, love, love their socialized health care and don't understand our fear of it. The difference... is this - Germany, Austria, and Switzerland have lock down caps on mal-practice law suite rewards. Doctors pay a small, reasonable mal-practice insurance fee. Doctors are free to take cash, private insurance, and have no problem being compensated by the national health care system, it is simple and extremely convenient... i.e. doctors still want to be doctors in those 3 countries and they make a great living. Those 3 countries had the courage to shut down the ambulance chaser problem that we suffer from and that is the BIG difference. So, yes, taxes are higher and those 3 countries people would say they are well cared for by those taxes. It was interesting to me. I went to the doctor in Germany... it cost me 40 Euro, I got all my medicine there, the doctor was great, I walked in immediately to see him, it was Sunday afternoon.

There are many other observations... many. I will try to reserve those for the other posts though. Suffice it to say, I am a bit different for my journey, in a good way. It was awesome and being there with Kim, Mark, and Tracy was awesome. Here are a few pictures... with more to come:

Everyone needs a Cheerleader

2009-06-28T10:35:00.006-05:00

Around a year ago my wife and I were watching the movie "Juno" and we had a thought-full moment. Regardless of the fatigue that the sonorous dialog of that movie insisted a 16 year old would have in their pantry... there were some great moments, some great messages, some great truths that movie conveyed - at least it did to us. Here are some of them:

All babies are worth being born
Sometimes adoption is the most kind thing for a baby
Love really does cover a multitude
Being a mess does not mean life is not glorious
Fighting for your life and fighting for your family and fighting for your friends... is fabulous

Anyhow, in the movie Juno has a best friend Leah that is a varsity cheerleader at the high school they go to. She is entirely different from Juno yet just about as odd as she is and their chemistry is heart warming. Late in the movie when Juno is having her baby her step mom is in the room and Leah is there playing with Juno through the moments and the fear and the pain. The film goes to slow motion and the scene is just Juno and Leah's faces side by side... Juno is pushing, there are no audible words, just music, and Leah is smiling and you can see her mouthing the words "push, push". She is excited and thrilled for Juno and enjoying the moment and totally present for her best friend. Well, I was watching that moment and I thought it was so cool the way Leah was there for Juno and I said just that to Kim - "that's so cool she has a friend like that". Kim wiped away a little tear and replied "yeah, everyone needs a Cheerleader..."

I was struck in a huge way by that statement. The depth of the truth of those words have never left me. I was struck "for" Kim deeply because it is so desperately true for her... it is so fundamentally and frantically true for me... for you. The bible says to effect, we all groan in labor as our lives move towards the birthing that death will bring. We need best friends, we need cheerleaders that always show up, they can push through our pain and our thrashing and when we push them away they just squeeze harder. Jesus is always that of course, and he really wants some flesh on those bones for us. You can tell how truly lonely someone is when they answer the question "who is your best friend?" with "Jesus is"... I am certain the Lord grieves for them to quit running from the here-and-now people He has put in their lives to embrace them.

How do we get to the places where having a best friend, having close friends, having consistent friends is crazy hard? Well, another movie moment, again with Kim, the other night... again struck me deeply. It was a scene where a mom was snuggling in bed with her 9 year old daughter, stroking her hair, and just talking, enjoying, loving her. That scene did not hit me as odd or profound in anyway from this perspective... Kim does and has done that with Reyn and Jacob many, many times every year of their lives. She still goes in and lays down with Jacob our 15 year old and snuggles with him and talks with him. He will go into our bedroom before bedtime sometimes and lay down with her and she will hold him until he falls asleep (and I then have to wake him up and help him to his room in drunken sleep!). Reyn, the 10 year old is always in her arms... the boys are well versed in affection from her. I don't lay down w/ Jacob any longer but Reyn still gets plenty of physical affection from me. It is all good, it is all "normal" for us, necessary, no problems. What jolted me about that scene in the movie was this... not one time, not one single solitary time EVER has my wife been held or snuggled with by her mom or dad. Never did Kim experience being held by her mom as a little girl, a young girl, a teenager, or a young woman and having her hair stroked. Never ever once did her dad snuggle with his precious daughter. How in the god-awful hell of the universe does someone emerge from that loss with a spitting chance at being good at relating to others?

Then I kind of dipped my head, because this is also true for me. Kim and I are a real piece of relational work I will tell you that. I watch both of us wade in the waters of being affectionate and "good" parents, romantic and caring lovers, and any kind of consistent faithful friends to others... we are like fearful kids experiencing the beach breakers of the ocean for the first time. We don't know what to expect or even how to have fun there yet. We know we want this more than life, we are terrified at the same time...

I know several of you that read this blog are in the same place, I know many of you, I have heard dozens and dozens of stories with the same abandonment. Many of those stories, along with me and Kim's as well - take the extra step... evil not only worked to keep us from experiencing good, needed, and healing touch - it insured the eventual touch we did receive and desperately sought... was anywhere from somewhat sexually wounding, to heinously ravaging abuse. Dammit, it is NOT fair it is f***ing not fair. And then we find each other and marry to keep the damage we are familiar with alive and well. We find each other as friends in communities of grace and disappoint one another to no end it seems.

I fear I must be a lot of work for others... I fear Kim is as well - We need cheerleaders, all of us in this community need cheerleaders that just keep on keeping on. Calling us to more, embracing with a squeeze that can bear some thrashing. Speaking the truth, telling us who we are, who the Lord created us to be. We can do this for each other, we can do this... and as Lib said once on her blog - "over and over, and over again". There is plenty of hope here, for both of us, for all of us - and it will require overcoming fear, near terror of the unknown out in the surf. So you that can run at full speed out into the surf and fall and laugh and submerge yourself in that glory... keep inviting us to play, we are watching you, and figuring...

We are having a Baby!!! Apparently

2009-06-10T07:18:00.009-05:00

So, the day before yesterday I was sitting in my friends back yard "pagoda" - it is the center of the community universe I think. Anyhow, their youngest daughter who is quite a piece of work I am here to tell you, she approached me in all of her 2'3" innocent curious glory and posed an obvious and less than profound question...

She put her hand on my stomach, looked up into my eyes with honest wonderment and asked "what's this?". I said... uncomfortably but amused "ha, well that's a spare tire" knowing instantaneously that she had no idea what a real spare tire is nor would she be subdued by this euphemistic cover-all analogy. But... since there were 4 other adults sitting in the "pagoda-community-center-of-the-universe" at the time, all now silent and edged to pins and needles with what the little prodigy would say next... "Spare Tire" was all I could think of to possibly save what little hope I had left in this whimsical whisp of delightful exposure. The mother of the miniature inquisitor, at this moment, made a gesture completely bereft any real desire to rescue me from what was surely coming next... she sort of leaned forward and and almost said El's name loud enough to stop the next proclamation but caught herself in curiosity, smiled slightly, and sat back to see what would spill out onto my retreating ears next.

So Ellie looked down at my gelatinous mid-drift and patted it with her hand very caringly and said..."no, it's a BABY". "oh, well, ha ha ha haaaa" "yes, well no, boys don't have babies, ha ha" I struggled and mumbled - "El... El, ha ha come here sweetie, ha ha" (the mother snickered wickedly enjoying my legitimate shame!). This tiny princess was undeterred as she is from the same cruel DNA her mother has evolved from like a slimy body snatching earth conquering alien... Ellie continued patting, poking and playful mothering care of the "obvious" baby that resided in the bloated subcutaneous fat cells that temporarily cover my 46 year old 6 pack of twisted steel and sex appeal! Everyone was terrifically amused and I was surrendered to the reality of my carefully crafted prodigitation.

I quickly notified my blogging friend that she will NOT be blogging about this! So, in order to not loose this moment of glory... I thought I would blog about it in order to have some written record to regale Ellie's wedding party with in 24 years - her future husband to be must know what he is in for!

Lazy Writer!

2009-05-27T07:15:00.003-05:00

I was born to Robert and Jean in 1963 to a little middle class home in a quiet neighborhood...

One thing led to another... yadda yadda yadda...

I am married with 2 kids, EVERYONE calls me twisted-steel-and-sex-appeal, and I am heavily engaged in a worldwide ministry to victims of abuse!

Filthy Saint

2009-05-26T06:33:00.003-05:00

I heard this Baptist preacher once on TV ask the question "When you look in the mirror, just what, and/or who do you see?"... He wanted to know if we see "just" a sinner saved by Grace. A mopey, hopeless wretch that continually lets down everyone, much less Christ and his or her family. A filthy rag (translated poopy diaper) like Paul said, whose righteousness is dwarfed by a Holy God. I want to do what is right but I just can't seem to quit sinning... all the time. Yep, sometimes that is what I see in the mirror, sometimes I see worse, sometimes slightly better but it all fits my self contempt and works to justify all sorts of destructive behaviour. It's all about meeeee, Rus-sell (a takeoff on a popular Christian ditty, I changed Jesus' name to mine to protect the innocent!)

Well, that preacher wondered what would change if we looked in the mirror and saw a Saint. An heir to the throne of God, and adopted prince or princess that is completely righteous, glorious, and beautiful. Empowered with all of Christs heart, the Holy Spirits beauty, and God's smile. A clean, forgiven, powerful, perfected Saint that can afford to laugh at tomorrow and walk uprightly with a smile of compassion for all we encounter. Yep, we are that too. Do I see myself this way? Almost... NEVER. Is this an intellectual exercise for me - feels like yes, completely. I have my moments of beauty, when I feel bloody and tired after fighting the bastard (no tic's sweet-B, I am referring to Satan!). After moments like that I feel small next to Jesus, used by Spirit in a great way... but I feel "with" Him, kind of wondering "what just happened?", but with Him none the less. That is when I get glimpses of the Saint.

SO - we are both/and. It is totally ambivalent, and now I feel like I am starting to understand what it means to "live in the tension" of that truth. Where both ends of this complete truth pull on each arm and I can know Love. When we don't embrace the tension, we succumb to one side or the other and the ambivalence is used by evil to destroy our ability to love. If we live on the side of the sinner, we live in self contempt, regret, and smallness. We muddle and struggle and slog daily through the tragedy that is "us". If we live on the side of the saint we bask in our self righteousness and sinless list of approved behaviors. There is this guy in one of the bible studies I am in right now that always wants to give a verse and pontificate on this saved side of his highly disciplined life when anyone talks about their own personal dirt. He wants to be a Saint and ignore the fact that he is a cauldron of un-dealt-with dysfunction that is repulsive to scale-free eyes. He is so "nice" with the mean eyes, it makes you burp up chunks of your bean and cheese taco and it burns your throat as you swallow it back down.

I am a murderer, I am an adulterer... I cannot behave well enough to warrant what I have been given. I cannot do it right enough to not need Jesus. I need Him, I need Spirit, I must receive God's smile. Amy told me, when I asked her this overarching question "How do I do this... What do I do?"... She did not hesitate, she grabbed my arm and looked me in the eyes - "on your face Russ, you do this on your face. You get before Him in a posture worthy of who He is and... bask." She is a beautiful smarty pants. I have done all "I" can and will continue to do in honor of my heart and story... it has led me to the next step/phase/path on this journey - it has led me to my relationship with Him. Good thing we all land here ultimately.

Mirrors... what shall I see.

So close... String Theory

2009-05-18T05:54:00.004-05:00

Scientists have gotten very, very small in quantum physics. They are down to trying to observe what they believe to be the smallest particles there are. Everything is made up of these quarks and they have a mathematical formula that explains how everything works and moves and interacts within the space of an atom... except for "r". I mean this formula literally explains the origins of the universe, everything works... if you can solve for r. Well, r, as it turns out is either - to small to observe yet, or it is actually the representation of - another dimension (actually they are fairly certain it will need to be about another 7 dimensions). This is where String Theory comes in. They believe that inside the quarks, in another dimension... their are actually tiny vibrating strings, and depending on how they vibrate (what the harmonics are) they become protons, or electrons, or neutrons. And actually these strings explain lots of stuff, like how everything arranges itself to have atoms become certain types of atoms that join together to become certain types of molecules that join together to become certain types of cells (there are approximately 2 thousand billion, or 2 quadrillion molecules in a single human cell)... and cells join together by the billions to become certain types of "stuff"... us among other things and there are around 10 trillion (10 with twelve zeros!) cells in a single human body.

So that's all cool and the thought that God created very tiny strings vibrating at certain harmonics to cause them to "be" certain types of extremely small stuff so He could make everything from just one thing by adding force to it to make it vibrate and do it all in an unseen dimension... wait a minute - exactly what is this force that causes the strings to vibrate, and how is this force so extremely consistent that it keeps the strings vibrating at a constant harmonic so that it remains what it needs to be? And how is this force different for 2 strings right next to one another, or is it just length and thickness... Hmmmm. An unseen force in another dimension holding the keys to the universe together with... harmony... hmmm.

Another unanswered question facing the most brilliant that we can throw at figuring out all this without needing God. So the Hadron collider in the UK is supposed to allow scientists to "observe", maybe... strings for the first time. I rather doubt it but - I hope they do. They will still be left with the biggest question EVER. And the answer is so, so slap your face simple and blow your mind huge - God EXISTS and he holds it all together.

The unseen things... in other dimensions... are more real than the seen things. (to paraphrase).

I think it is very cool that some of the keys to the universe... Gods "fractal" universe, are found in the nearly infinitely small. All things are made from a single thing, ultimately, and held together by... God.

When I get to heaven, I want to run out into the middle of a vast, beautiful and breezy field and yell out at the top of my lungs... "do you KNOW what this MEANS!!!?", "What!" Micheal will yell - Jesus will probably send him to watch me, and I will answer "It means Carl Sagan can Suck It!". Just one moment of many in eternity... that will be fun.

Yep...

2009-05-14T06:35:00.003-05:00

So... these people actually exist. There is really not even any amount of poverty that should take you to the place that you would consider converting your husbands old underwear into a "top". I will however give her an a+ for creativity. I don't know how I feel about this picture... I am sad for her, I am stunned, I am amused... dang.

So, the skid marked part of the new "top" is actually in the front. I am certain there are fewer than 32 teeth involved in the smiles offered from this little human extravaganza. I have the urge to find her and say "Honey, please, come here - we need to talk". Now if this is some sort of in-your-face angry lesbian rebellion - well - we will let Jesus deal with that. If this is some sort of drunken hillbilly free-for-all, well, I will have to grimace at the thought of honoring difference here. If this is just some woman who has no since of her own dignity, and she drew on her dramatic abundance of creativity and resourcefulness as she saw her 5'5 283 pound husbands underwear on the floor sticking out from under their sleeping pot-belly-pig in the middle of the living room... and she thought "you know what..." - got out Jeb's buck knife and cut herself a fancy sports bra... Well, then she actually had to think "what will I wear" to the very public Chet Hackett and the Mud Diggers country rock electric banjo concert down at the Mill-Creek Amphitheatre (really just a makeshift stage in a field)... "I know, I will wear my new fancy schmancy Haines top / sports bra".

Now Libby, Jamie... if one or both of you have already done this to a pair of your husbands undies, I mean no offense - y'all are both pretty "back-woods" and I could see you both sitting in town sipping coffee in quaint Sacramento and Boston bagel shops reading blogs on your mini-laptops, listening to Linkin Park on your iPods - proudly sporting your hubbies used briefs and Miley Cyrus tattoos like renaissance rebel country divas! And Amy A... don't get any ideas while Ken is away at Recovery Week.

Who Knew...

2009-04-27T05:30:00.002-05:00

Kim and I just got back from a week long "couples group" up in Michigan where we took the proverbial next step in becoming something more akin to what God was thinking when he created us. So... what I am struck by is the deep importance of what we experienced and the tools we came away with to grow. Both of us have abusive backgrounds and both of us have been on our own journeys of growth and healing from our past, our adult response to our past, and looking at our future with some modicum of hope.

I knew that our individual growth was helping us in our relationship tremendously... and, until I was laid out, gutted, and cleaned next to her - in my everyday interaction and interplay with her, I would have never seen what I do to further the harm in our marriage. It is all very subtle and cyclical. It is heinous what evil has done to "train" us, and what we have done to train each other to perpetuate our individual wounding. Where we each can recognize our triggers and we see where to keep our face / maintain our dignity... together we had become subtle and sophisticated at keeping each other attached to our lies and agreements.

Here is an example... yesterday we were unpacking our clothes. I made 2 piles, one for dirty clothes and one for dry cleaning. As Kim began to unpack her stuff after I had... she started tossing clothes onto each pile. She is not as anal as I am about each piece of clothing actually landing in the pile it belongs, as she prefers to take care of that right before she actually picks one of the piles up. BUT, I start to bend over and move each of her "missed" tosses into the correct pile. Inside she starts to feel angry and anxious and is not completely sure why. Then she confronts me and asks "can you just leave it, I know how to sort my clothes..." blah blah blah I say I was just trying to help and we stopped. We were on the precipice of experiencing a moment of hate. However this time we pulled out a worksheet we got outlining how to do a "couples dialog". A tool you use to work through everyday moments that are not going so well.

So we sat down and Kim told me what I had done, I validated what I had heard her say. She let me know how what I was doing was making her feel and she could easily connect it to familiar feelings from her childhood and past. I validated that, empathized with that and then began to "teach" her what we did wrong in going through this exercise... HA! Then we had a second dialog... Anyhow, here is what was happening in this simple, silly, no-big-deal interaction. I was "correcting" Kim poking on her "you don't know what you are doing", "you are stupid", "you need to be fixed" triggers - just poking them gently, nothing overt. She started to feel angry and anxious and was not completely sure why. I was seeing the clothes land in the wrong piles and I was "cleaning up" after her. When she told me she was feeling angry and anxious (before we sat down together)... I went straight to contempt and defensiveness over such a stupidly small thing, such trivialities... I was just trying to help her for heavens sake - give me a damn mother f#$*ing break, in my head I began to escalate.

So we sit down, I hear what she says and say it back to her to insure I heard correctly. I validate that I understood how she felt and why. We went further immediately when she said "you don't have to clean up after me"... and I immediately teared up because I saw myself cleaning up after my parents, hiding the truth of my home. I would rather betray Kim right to her face ("this is NOTHING, if I can't HELP you pick up clothes without you spinning out then we have real problems, no hope"), I would rather think and say words to this ilk to shame her than to risk being caught in the truth of my ugliness... all stemming from my long life of trying to hide my home, and later my abuse, from the rest of the world.

Instead we spent about 7 to 10 minutes sitting on our bed working through this "nothing" moment and we both felt heard, validated, more committed to each other and in love than before... amazing. It is wild, these little exercises are like an aphrodisiac - so if you get them and start connecting with your wife in very healthy ways you had better watch out... because once a woman feels connected and in love - well, we will just let you sit in what you may imagine the results to be!

One of the Ends

2009-03-14T10:57:00.003-05:00

I am not sure how this affected me but here it goes... My parents were drink till they passed out alcoholics my whole life. I remember lots of ambivalent feelings for my dad growing up and I remember thinking how much easier things would be if he were dead, then I could stop worrying about him, the house (because I could clean it up) - and I would just have to take care of my mom... here is how he died.

I was about 32 or 33, about 13 years ago, Kim and I lived out in La Vernia (20 miles east of San Antonio, TX) and my parents lived in the house I grew up in, on Tango Street, in San Antonio. Kim and I just happened to be in town on a Sunday because we went to Church over at River City (this church was a real piece of work... another story, another time). We also just happened to be getting gas at an "Ice House" (what we call a convenience store in Texas) that I used to walk and ride my bike to when I was a little boy. I tell you that so you understand, as far away as we lived, and as odd as it would be, by chance, to be only about 42 seconds from my parents home by car... I got a phone call while putting gas in my truck.

It was my mom and she said she "needed some help" with my dad. It freaked me out because I said "well, just so happens we are right down the street... we will be right there". Now I knew enough about my parents to know that if my mom was calling because she needed help with my dad, something was really, REALLY wrong. You will fathom this shortly. I was so completely full of dread, close to terror - for a million reasons. My mind was racing because I did not know what I would find when I walked in the house, and I also knew that some professional services (like paramedics) were probably going to be called and they would enter my parents house and "see". Yep I was worried about my dad, I was worried about my mom, I was worried about the attention the home I grew up in was about to get. This shit never stays hidden forever... would neighbors see and try to come over? I was trembling, and this was only the first 22 seconds after my mom called... I felt all this and I was 32, married, kid and had not been living there for 14 years.

So we drove to my parents house and pulled in the driveway. I told Kim to wait in the car, she knew it might not be good to take Jacob (he was only 1 at the time) inside. He did not need to see whatever the hell was wrong... and Kim felt tons of relief to not have to go inside as well. I walked in through the front door and my mom was sitting in her robe (it was about 3 in the afternoon) in the living room chair smoking a cigarette and drinking a martini. Her hair was messed up, i.e. she was doing NOTHING, just sitting there waiting for me to do something. I asked "What's wrong, what happened?" something like that. My mom just said, "he is in the hall, he fell, he might have broken his hip". Well, the "hall" was all of about 11 feet to my left so I looked over and there was my dad, laying on his side.

He was laying there up on one elbow, with a martini and an ashtray in front of him on the carpet. He was in pajama bottoms, he was laying in his own urine and diarrhea and smell and mess and filth on the carpet... because you see... my dad had been laying there in the hall with a broken hip... for 3 days.

Apparently he had stopped eating, and had only drank for the 3 days prior to the fall, he got up to go to the bathroom or something and fell in the hallway. When I asked my mom why she did not call someone, me, sooner... she said "he would not let me". That changed something in me towards my mom, that moment, that answer. My mom was just taking him martinis and lit cigarettes when he asked as he laid there for 3 days, I guess she just sat there, slept there, drank there, went to the bathroom there, left him there... for 3 days.

He could not really look at me, he was embarrassed, I was embarrassed for him, I just moved into it. Unshaven, greasy hair, unshowered probably for nearly 2 weeks, house filthy, worn, and full of smoke, rotten food in the sink, week old boiled hot dogs on the stove... He said "I think I broke my hip" and he asked if I could take him to the bathroom, and/or put him in bed. So I bent down and picked him up and was holding him like a child in my arms. I am 5'10" and my dad was about 6'1". He only weighed about 100 pounds at this point. I remember his body felt frail, and boney, I could feel his spine and ribs and... he was not heavy. The smell was unreal but, whatever. I carried him into my parents bathroom and sat him on the toilet, it hurt him pretty bad to sit but he was in such shame at that point he could only grit the teeth he had left and not rebuff what I was trying to do for him, he was grateful I was there and I could tell. It was terrible, horrible, awful and an oddly tender moment. I helped the father I rarely ever touched and that never touched me to pull his bottoms down so he could defecate. I walked out of the bathroom and told him to let me know when he was done... I just waited outside in the bedroom.

He went to the bathroom and told me he was done... I went back in picked him up and put him in bed, and we pulled up his pajama bottoms. He told me "thank you", I asked "do you want me to call someone, an ambulance?". Here is what he said "No, I think I will be ok in a couple of days, I will be able to get up then and I will go to the doctor, don't call anyone please..." My dad wanted a couple of things. He did not want anyone to see him like this, and, he wanted to die - that was obvious. I left the room.

I walked in to the den where my mother was sitting, malnourished also, drunk, martyr, help-less, hope-less, shame-full, pathetic. I stood in front of her and I let some anger come out. I said "this is not my problem, this is not for me to fix, I can't hide this"... I asked all the why-she-did-not-call shit, she was answering in victimhood and I just had enough. I got a phone book and found the yellow page entries for ambulance companies, circled them, and showed them to her. I told my mom this did not have to be a big "ordeal" to get him help. She did not have to call 911 to get him to the hospital, there did not have to be fire trucks, ambulances, sirens, etc. for her to help him. I told her when she was ready to help her husband and do what she needed to do, she could call one of these companies to transport my dad to the hospital.

I had to tell her she was an "adult", and that this was "her responsibility", and that she was going to have to take care of this... and I left. I was spinning like never before, I was wasted with shame, I was in shock... traumatized in the moment. Kim and I drove back to La Vernia.

I got a call the next day in the afternoon, it was my mom and she had called an ambulance earlier that day and they took my dad to the hospital and she wanted me to take her to him. He had started to hallucinate because she was not taking him martini's anymore, it is typical alcoholic withdrawal, and it scared her... whatever. I went to get her, we went to the hospital, and the last 14 days began.

The doctors questioned me about why I neglected my parents, etc... it was hard to be accused but I told the doctor the story of my mom and dad and their alcoholism and about 30 seconds into it he put his hand up to stop me. He understood. My dad was on a respirator and morphine and the doctor said this. "Your dad is the architect of this moment, he is in no shape to operate on his hip, we can keep him on the respirator for 14 days, and then we have to take him off. He likely won't make it but we will see. When you picked him up, because he was laying there for 3 days, the blood inside his broken hip had congealed, and a piece broke away when you moved him and it went to his lungs... we had to put him on the respirator or he would have died a few hours ago." All I heard was "when I moved him"... I caused the blood clot to move... I killed my dad.

We went and saw him every day for the next 14 days and my mom would sit all day and hold his hand. I would sit and hold his hand. He would look at me, at my mom, at Kim, at Jacob... he wanted to say something to me and would move his lips, but the respirator. He would reach up for me and grab my arm... I don't know but I think he wanted to say "I'm sorry", "I love you", "I am proud of you"... I don't know, who knows? Anyhow... On the 14th day, they were getting ready to take out the respirator, I knew he was about to die... I walked outside - I could not handle it, I felt like a coward. Kim sat with him when he died, and she called me - when I walked away earlier, it was the last I saw of him, he was trying to speak to me. My mom had him cremated.

That is how my dad died... The funeral and days, months, years, now afterwards with my mom are another set of stories. For some reason, I just wanted to write this one right now.

God LOVES Wine!!!

2009-03-13T20:01:00.004-05:00

The resplendent and sublime Lib recommended that we get together and watch the movie BottleShock. Well, my wife, T, me and Mark opened a really good cab and sat in their living room the other night and watched that movie. Lib... awesome, it makes up for the roach-in-the-water "Sideways" wine movie that freaked people out. That movie was really good but had a couple of scenes so shocking in it that it just about ruins it, it is like the director and/or writer had something great and then pooped on it just to keep kindness away. Roach in the water is an analogy where you have a perfectly good, clean glass of water except for the dead roach at the bottom of it... can't drink that!

Anyhow, in BottleShock I learned something. That the growing of the grape for the making of wine, is a laborious, complex, gratifying, task of love. It requires great care, trial and error, grace, mercy, and tremendous desire laden with skill. It is best that the vine not get too much care and nourishment / water... it is best that it struggle to ripen it's fruit. The fruit then reflects the taste of overcoming the struggle in its glorious maturity. This is totally true... the grapes taste more dull when they are raised in the Baylor Bubble and get all the water and bible studies they need.

There was a line in the movie discussing the vine growers keeping the soil just dry enough to make the vines struggle, and its metaphor for life. I shortly thereafter began to realize just how much God loves, loves wine. This is a place where I love, love God and consider Him absolutely the coolest. God is all about this creation of grapes and fermentation and wine.

He said He is the Vine, He points out other places where we are like the vine, we are like the branches, we are like the fruit, we bear fruit. He uses wine and "the delectable vine" analogies all over the bible... old and new testament. WINE!!! His first and one of His most coolest miracles. You know that wine He made at that chicks wedding kicked total butt. It was probably just absolutely perfect, divine, heavenly... HIM. The bible says wine is good for your belly, it is true. Medicine says it is good for your blood, it is true.

As a Baptist we were always steered away from wine... how foolish, how sinful. Pastors love to talk about how the wine of "that day" was not as strong, not as good, practically water. Hogpoop, people (Abraham, Isaac, etc.) were getting plastered on wine all throughout the bible. Now, nothing ever good came from their drunkenness but my point is, you could get plastered on the wine in the bible.

I have learned to really enjoy and care about a good glass of wine... and now, I feel like I am engaged in something sort of Holy. To appreciate wine, and the metaphor it represents is to appreciate what God is doing in my life, my heart, my marriage. I love God, I love wine... you should too!!! I think it is one of His most magnificent creations, the grape... and one of His most mysterious processes, the struggle, the fermentation... and one of His pleasurable blessings, the sip, the melting taste. There are more nerve endings in your mouth than anywhere else on your body except your "special" sexual spots! That is for a reason, God wants you to taste wine, life, Him. And he wants you to feel and experience sex, union, Ecstasy... Him.

This is just so cool. I am smiling, and Kim and I are getting ready to go over to T's and have a bottle of good wine with her... Awesome!

Evil and Truth

2009-03-12T08:38:00.003-05:00

Recently I heard about a man that took into question the premise that we "agree with evil" as we live and move through our stories. He was agasped at the notion that a child who is being abused is anything more than a victim. He is cool with the notion of "lies we believe" but not with "agreements we have with evil"... so... who is the damn liar then? Lying is one of evils trademarks and I guess this man does not believe evil is actively engaged in it when we are little.

Now, I want to offer grace here because I can see the mental shift I am asking someone to make for a man that has been abused to believe he engaged evil as a child during his terror. It is quite a paradox. Look, here is what happens... One important thing to remember is, evil cannot "create" anything, period, it can only use what God has created. It can't touch what it hates the most (Gods Glory) so it looks to maul Gods beautifully created little reflectors of His Glory - us. Evil can smell death for miles, like a pathetic bug... also organized, the most clever, and scarily patient - evil simply waits for moments to "offer" solutions to the junctures of pain, and sometimes horror, we experience as children (adolescents, teens, young adults, adults, and aged).

Here is where it gets a little odd... so we bring Gods Glorious Creation in us to bear on those moments, and we survive -AND- evil gives us words to believe about ourselves there -AND- it gives us suggestions about surviving there that sound comforting, safe, in control, vengeful -AND-... it works. Here is our "both-and"... there is GLORY from God, beautiful and full - on the backside of every sin... and in every sin, there is something about Gods Glory in your creation that you are acting upon. Hear this... there is NO SHAME, no shame, in how a child survives. Our survival in the moment utilizes Gods glorious creation. Evil - clever, diabolical, lying divider intent on your destruction (on EVERYONE'S destruction)... knows what this survival will mean as you bring it into adulthood. Here are some techniques and words children bring to bear...

To feel comfort, a sexually abused child ("sexualized" before they were meant to be) might masturbate even at 5 or 6 years old. They don't masturbate for sinful rebellious reasons, it provides a child moments of comfort (we need comfort, we were created to have comfort, beautiful, glorious) - and evil - suggested masturbation as something it knows will bring shame, contempt, and hiddenness years and years later as an adult. Or maybe you take the shame you feel from how you acted out your comfort as a child, and as a teen you listen to evil some more in a vulnerable moment "your a pervert anyway, just let loose" and you become an aggressive seeker of your own and others sexual destruction. Evil, tries to destroy what reflects Gods glory, he can't create anything, he just uses what God has created in us... (just a reminder). Here are some other messages you "hear" in vulnerable moments post horror and/or pain:

the classic "you are alone"...and you repeat at the age of 8 on your bunk-bed "I... I am alone" with fear and tears streaming down your little face. Evil loves this - plenty of suggestions for survival here: "don't make any mistakes", "be nice", "please your friends / everyone", "hate, hide from, and disconnect from those that make you feel alone"... there are tons of them.
"you don't need anybody"
"you are dangerous"
"you can't do anything right"
"you are trapped, there is no way out"
"you always choose the wrong thing"
"You are stupid"
... hundreds of them

All of the messages come with suggestions for how to get through it. We believe it, we "agree" with it... we "agree" with evil. As we get older this agreement becomes part of how we act out our lives, and the clever, patient, pathetic, death sniffing bug waits for just the right moments to remind you of what you already agree to - and - "oh, I almost forgot, yes, I know how to survive this message". Evil, is loud and in-the-moments of time with us... On the other hand, God is a still small quiet voice, he is "always", outside of time, outside of moments / inside of moments / those moments are "now" for God - He was, is, and will always be "there" consistent, able, understanding, with the whole picture, the whole story under his purpose - nothing forced, bounded by only one freedom... our Choice.

The "man" that is pooping over the words "agreements we make with evil" is a Pastor. He has a huge story and he has not dealt with it. Believe it or not, he actually says "I have been healed of that" - can you imagine? Well, pastor, I guess myself in all my screwed up shit have no place to land with your gloriously healed and well adjusted self - if I could just get healed like you I would be "o.k." too - but, I love God, and I know I am still a mess - how do you do it oh healed one, I need what you have... I would love to sit with this pastor for about 5 days, then we would have some "healing".

To walk down this road... we Name the Truth, Grieve the Truth, In Truth we break Agreements we make with evil, Name more Truth, Embrace THE Truth... well, it will set you Free baby. We name the truth about the ugly, the sin, the pain, the shame, the abusers, the parents, the addictions, the betrayals, the disappointments, the hidden, the run... We name the truth about the struggle, fight for our lives to embrace God, His love, His grace, His love, His love, our love for others, others love for us, relationships... the truth of community, the truth of what God intends for us and our struggle in this fallen place to see and roll around in and bathe in all we can of His intent. We embrace the truth about the Truth and grab a hold of some freedom... over and over again.

Join us pastor.

I don't care what others think...

2009-03-08T11:50:00.002-05:00

Sure you don't... I was having coffee with Kim yesterday and I was reminded of some thoughts I had about this statement or line of thinking we all like to have but don't live out. That trail of thought also includes "I don't care if so-and-so likes me or not", "I don't need everyone to like me", etc. etc...

I believe there are all kinds of good intentions behind all of these words, and I don't think we live this way at all - even the most healthy and rebellious of us. I write like I don't care if you like me or my writing or not, and... I care deeply about you liking and enjoying me and my writing. I don't think we were created "not to care" whether people like us, even people we "don't like". We were created for relationships period. God is a relationship, a perfect one with the Son, and the Spirit. He created us to shrivel up and die without them, without Him. I think a pre-requisite of relationship is "liking" someone, not in a dumb way... relationships require that we make an effort to enjoy someone, and that they let themselves be enjoyed. When we are in proximity to another human being, we want a reason to relate to them. When the child molester is on the stand... we want a reason not to hate them.

I think, this is where God wants us to experience oneness with Him - in His lack of hatred for us, in His enjoyment of us, yep, in His deep and mysterious love and care for us. So, in a way, we were created to "care" if others like us or not and what they think about us.

Not a big deal... just something I was thinking about.

Post Google

2009-03-08T10:47:00.003-05:00

Wow... I just re-read my post from the Hilton Crown Royal in San Fran - I really used a lot of "starred-out-F" words in that post. I have been quite the potty mouth lately. Sorry about that, but I was feeling really amped up about the lack of Fox News as well as being excited about going to Google that day.

Well we went with our Accenture reps to a restaurant in Palo Alto not 20 yards from the main gates of Stanford called "Subbibo"... it was a family style Italian place built inside one of the vintage homes in that neighborhood. I do not know if you have ever been to Stanford but the surrounding neighborhood and college-town of Palo Alto is really beautiful and awesome. One of our Accenture reps was a wine connoisseur and selected a pair of Merlot's and Pino's that kicked. The movie Sideways disparaged the hapless Merlot grape as a trashy last ditch for refined palettes and a favorite of the common ranch dip and potato chip party going rabble. It was an unfair and untrue pic of snobbery - and now the Merlot is making a comeback with wine lovers everywhere wanting to be a bit rebellious. I am down with that always. I had the "Suckling Pig" as my entre'... yep, you knew that if that were on the menu I would have to get it. It was the special for Wednesday's at that place. I pictured a baby pig with an apple in it's mouth being roasted and served - I had no idea what a suckling pig dish looked like but I knew I must have it! Turns out it was just 4 slices of pork with tangerines, apples, and other veggies in a wine broth - it was really good and so was my Merlot. I sat with the head of research for Accentrue and the Chief Scientist for Pacific Gas & Electric - both millionaire's and bright, un-trusting fellows. One was only his job... the other was a good guy. It was good enough.

We got back about 12:30 and our lead Accenture rep and one of our execs continued on to the Marriott to keep drinking and they closed that bar. Our exec picked me up in the morning and he was on top of it... we went to pick up the Accenture rep and he did not answer - and never even made it to Google that day - stupid. He is young, lives there in San Fransisco, has a wife and a young kid - slept in a hotel that night blasted out of his mind - missed all his meetings the next day - I just shake my head feeling a mixture of sadness, emptiness, and anger with him.

So we went over to Google and it was so interesting... and also, sad. We ate breakfast there and I started to notice something I had seen before at the IBM Poughkeepsie labs in New York. Absolutely brilliant young minds, and I mean off the charts, that are reclusive, odd, alone, and tortured. You notice them right away and if you look at them with glances they just make you laugh as truly funny looking, mal-dressed, super-geeks (geeks are nerds that make money)... however if you "look" at them you will loose your smile. I was hurting for them because they are so alone, they don't know what to do with all they think about - and neither does anyone else - so they have been abused mostly their whole lives and outcast... it is written all over them. So they drown themselves in computers and Google pays them extremely well for it. There are plenty of chatty liberal intellectual snobby geeks running around also - not one of them over 25 and they are... whatever, most of your effort is spent tolerating them. One kid that was in with us was 22, he was about 5'5" tall, skinny, quiet, nervous - could not look anyone in the eye - odd, brilliant, and effeminate. He was a package of pain for me to sit across from and I kept a thread spinning in my mind on him all day - I wanted to know his story and help him find some freedom - anyhow, that is what I was thinking.

So, yep, I would love to work at Google... and it would only partially be because of the cool work, opportunities, environment, etc. Mostly it feels like I just want to talk to some of those people that might need someone to hang in there with them. I have a young lady and a young man on my team right now that can't look me in the eye - my heart sees me in them 20 years ago, it is rough.

I left California struck by the irony of what I had experienced. Google, the most innovative, creative, open, free, and "hip" environment anywhere to be found... filled to the brim with the imprisoned. California, a beautiful, colorful miracle of God's creation... filled to the brim with the imprisoned. It is hard to know how to feel about all of that.

WTF

2009-03-04T08:00:00.002-06:00

To borrow a post title from the mysterious and awesome Tracy... What The F***! Please tell me what the #1 morning show on TV is? Well? It is FOX AND FRIENDS!!! What is the #1 cable news channel in the country, bar none, in the lead by a considerable distance? Well? It is FOX F***ing NEWS CHANNEL!!! What is the one channel NOT OFFERED at the Hilton Crown Plaza, a very fancy f***ing Hilton indeed? Well? FOX F***ing NEWS CHANNEL!!! Nope, no FNC even lurking. Plenty of Keith Oberman and Katy Curic though... no problem there.

WTF!!!

It is 5:00 a.m. and I am up because it is 7 where you can watch FNC at any time you want. Anyhow, I can't change the channel without some announcer having a trembling verbal orgasm saying something endearing and titillating about obama with teary eyes and a little seductive dripplet of drool gleefully poised to sacrifice itself in final tribute to same sex marriage by running down the chin and leaping to its death on the pundents desk. "Oh what a full life I have lived" laments the dripplet, "my sacrifice for the greater obama good has completed me - I am full beyond measure". --- meet your maker Godless dripplet, and burn in hell.

Now I know I am not supposed to judge the dripplet because only Jesus knows if it renounced its sin and committed its life to Christ between the chin and the desk... and I should just be curious and actually morn the loss of a potential brother... but I am just going by the fruit, I just tell you what I see - not trying to be too black and white here people.

Alright, I gotta go shower and hang out with some Central California Mo lovin libs that are just THRILLED that Fox F***ing News Channel is NOT EVEN AVAILABLE in my hotel... they are just thrilled. Where am I, what is this place.

O.K. I can do this. Oh, by the way, my radio is pre-set to a FM Spanish radio station... huh, wonder why - well I will black and white f***ing tell you why - the lady that is going to clean my room later turns on the radio when she comes in and... she does NOT speak much English - that is because I am in an illegal alien refuge city - San-Fran-f***ing-tastic - we are in a record jobless economy in a State where the jobless rate is now higher than my blood pressure, and the room cleaning jobs are going to illegals instead of willing AMERICAN citizens. Thanks libs, thanks mo's, thanks obama, goodnight moon.

California Rant #1... completed! (p.s. I do have my BP medicine with me, no worries)

Google-isheous

2009-03-03T06:56:00.003-06:00

Today I am headed to San Francisco... Cupertino actually, to go to Google hosted by Accenture. It will be cool. Google is full of liberal free love tree hugging obama worshiping socialist hippies - and they are all creative and brilliant and artists. It is fun to be around them. We are going because we might get in bed with them on some technology that I am not allowed to talk about yet - we might use it for our Customer Relationship Management "portal" that our service reps use. Anyhow, we will get to eat really good food and hang out with some really excellent brains.

The Accenture guys are just faces - they are of elevated intelligence also but they are the ones you always hated... They are the frat boys and angry girls from college that made excellent grades in Accounting, Business Management, and Marketing - and then went into consulting with slicked back hair and dark suits... It's cool though - they know no one trusts them and now that they are adults and trying to live outside the bubble they work pretty hard to "fit in" and be found as the rest of us. They do take you to eat at really great places and buy fabulous wine - so I am looking forward to that.

Mostly Google though - it is a great company that has a wild and rigorous hiring process. It is difficult to get in and a real honor to get to work there - it is like getting into MIT when you are looking at college. Did you know there are no "grades" given at MIT... every course is simply Pass / Fail. They figure if you got into MIT - you are brilliant and there is no use "ranking" anyone that graduates by grades. Google is kind of like that, if you get in, it is a wild ride after of very interesting work and creative implementation. They foster innovation in absolutely every way possible; almost nothing reasonable is out of bounds. Pets at work, climbing walls in the rec room, ALL food is free all the time and prepared by chefs - if you can think of something that would be cool to do at work that would help you relax, have fun, think, create, and execute... Google does that. They pay really well also. Hell, this blog is written on, hosted on, and viewed by you on Google technology!

I know there is a "dark side" and I will let you know if I find it but it will be fun to hang there for a few days. The lack of anything God centered, conservative, and "not gay" will get old I am sure, but hanging out with really smart free love hippy geeks can be a trip.

That is what I like about the community I am surrounded with here... y'all are free love rebels that create beauty and lay down cool with the best of them - you are all artists in the best ways, and to boot - we weep with Jesus and will be drinking the greatest wine together... FOREVER! We scare the shit out of people but they want "in"... getting in is a rigorous ordeal with us as well - heart, story, and courage are necessary - endurance, tons of grace, love, and a commitment to re-engage and go again essential. Once you get in though... the food, the conversation, the hugs, the wine, the laughter, the tears, the love - it is the closest I think we will get in this life to experiencing what we were created for, and that is all that plus a bag of beans!

Oh, so I will be out of sorts til Friday...

Fraud

2009-03-02T07:05:00.007-06:00

Well... my "friends" and my wife decided it was time to have-a-little-peek into the places that led to 170/110. They were very intentionally loving me, without contriving anything - that always freaks me out somewhat because I am so leery of love. My history of abuse has left me a mess when it comes to the "L" word. Here are the facts... they all had their shovels out and this is what was unearthed:

You don't, I did not, "forget" to take my blood pressure medicine...?
I am to the ultimate extent, responsible for my blood pressure...
I have demonstrated the discipline to loose the weight that accompanies this BP in my history.
I gained weight and sabotaged every relationship I was in post sexual abuse - the ones where "I love you" were words shared.
I married Kim before I could kick the cycle of death completely into gear.
I believe I have little value... I long to be valued... I rarely / don't recall ever feeling valued
Mike (abuser) "valued" me - for many reasons I guess - he had good words for me - and I figure he valued what he could rob from me sexually, f***ing piece of shit... and even that tasted good to me I guess - starving and all (this sentence has some "I guess"es in it - shame)
I believed, Mike told me, the only reason I had ANYTHING, had accomplished anything, and would become anything - was because of him.
I have hard time calling him a "f***ing piece of shit" in that belief - because, well, I believe "ed" it.
Evil told me, loudly, I am a "fraud"...
I, loudly, agreed
My cycles of sabotage are the places I kill myself.
Kim loves me, she is not leaving
Lot's of y'all love me, and y'all are not leaving
Mrs. Anderson told me "I am never giving up on you" last October and it sent me south for many weeks... crap
I murder my hope

So last night we had one of those pleasant little "Agreement-Breaking" sessions of bouncy fun. I prayed to break the agreement I had with evil that I am a fraud. It was wild, evil was freaking out and it rattled some of us... we prevailed. I was pooping this morning and I was thinking - "well, now evil will try and get me to re-agree with it that I am a fraud... but at least it is starting from scratch because the bastard has no grounds to simply remind me of it any longer". That's all good, that's cool.

p.s. I cursed a lot in this post - feels appropriate...

170 / 110

2009-02-21T17:57:00.007-06:00

The title of this post my peeps... was my blood pressure yesterday when I went downstairs at work and thought - "I feel a little dizzy and my head is heavy... I think I will check my blood pressure". Well, when I saw what my pressure was I think it jumped 10 more points at that moment because it freaked me out. I was certain I needed to be in the hospital.

I woke up earlier that morning at 4 a.m. with a headache like I had never had before. It was my whole head and it was fierce. I could not hold my eyes open, stand up straight, or concentrate. I took 4 ibuprofen at that point and vacillated between the couch and the bed 4 times... I could not get comfortable. I was sweating and freezing at the same time and my heart was racing. I think the intensity of the headache was giving me a panic attack because I had not taken my blood pressure medicine in 3 days (I was out). My mom has had 6 strokes so I have inherited that risk... sometimes I feel like a walking time-bomb. To go along with all of this my stomach hurt and if I shut my eyes to try and sleep (and I was exhausted) I would start spinning like when you are nasty drunk. Finally enough of the ibuprofen kicked in that I dozed off to sleep.

About an hour and a half later I woke up and felt... "o.k." I wanted to write it off as an anomaly but deep down I was afraid of that headache I'd had. SO... what did I do - I hopped on my motorcycle and went to work. I felt "odd" at work and I was worried. I went downstairs at 12:00 to get something for lunch and USAA has one of those blood pressure machines on the 1st floor of my building so before I walked to B-cafe I wanted to see what my pressure was like.

170 over 110... "wholly fuck" that is literally what ran through my mind - and ironically the only thing I could reliably repeat in my head for the next 40 minutes was "Help me Jesus, I am not done yet". I knew Kim was at her Gyno's office for an appointment so I felt alone - I had a dozen people I could have called but I believed - I was alone. So I went back upstairs trying to remain steady and calm, taking deep breaths to lower my heart rate; I got my keys and stuff together and walked immediately to my motorcycle. All I could think then was how stupid everyone would think I am for riding home by myself - I was feeling desperate. I rode smooth and fast to get home.

When I arrived I tried calling Kim 3 times but I knew she was in with Dr. De La Garza. I was trying to be calm and I changed into a T-Shirt, shorts, and sandals - anticipating lots of testing and trouble at the hospital. I drove myself to the emergency room.

I got there and this hospital was busy as crap for sure, ambulances were arriving every 15 minutes or so and all 40 of their ER rooms were full. I put on my entry form as reason for visit "BP 170/110" and the little bitch behind the window looked at me and said "that's all?". So in-between thinking I am an idiot and she is an idiot I thought "Yes Maria, that's it... I could be moments from a stroke and... that's it! You stupid-shit ER bitch check-in attendant". Then she turned and walked away quickly. My shame told me to go sit down and shut up, I just needed to see a doctor that was not paid $7 an hour to deal with panicked walk-ins to the ER. They deal with people that can't pay all day long showing up to use the ER as their regular physician when they have a cold. There were plenty of them in the waiting room. I was sitting there a victim of the onslaught of non-paying patients from all over, including several sets of illegals in the room, that come to the north side to get better care. This hospital is under the non-refusal regulations so they treat everyone. I have excellent insurance and I was worried I could be bleeding into my brain at the moment... but I sat, and sat.

Kim got a hold of me, and she was VERY upset, and she got Reyn taken care of at a friends and rushed to be with me. The only person I called was my boss to let him know I would not make my meetings that afternoon, and Kim. That is how I know I was in shame because I believed - I am alone, and I can do this, alone. I was just sitting so Kim went to the admitting wench and threatened the hospital with a lawsuit, something like "IF HE STROKES OUT IN THERE YOU ARE GONNA HEAR FROM US!!!"... it did not seem to help all that much but she felt better giving them a piece of her mind - it took an hour and a half more just to get triaged. Then 2 more hours later I was called back into my room. Kim had run home to take care of Jacob and she had not come back yet. Right after I got in my ER Room, the doctor came in - he listened to my ordeal and his smile left quickly. He said he was worried I'd had an aneurysm and was bleeding into my brain and spinal column. He ordered a CAT scan and a Lumbar Puncture. I was hopelessly sinking inside running through death and surgery scenario's in my head. I did feel better though that someone gave a crap about what I knew... I could be in serious trouble here... So kiss my ass miss-"that's it?" (you would be right to picture her as a very young sassy little annoyed latino girl that is 7 months pregnant without a ring). Kim showed up with Acie Johnson and they sat with me. Tracy, Mark... people were starting to call and I was feeling all of this: loved, cared for, pathetic, fat, stupid, and loved some more - it was hard. Kim was very upset and very kind and brave for me.

Waiting, IV's, blood tests, waiting, waiting, CAT scan, waiting, waiting, CAT scan results - clean. Waiting, waiting, lumbar puncture... this procedure is ridiculously ridiculous by the way - having a 15 gauge needle stuck between the vertebrae of your spine to let fluid drain out into a vial is disconcerting and freakin scary as shit... and it hurts. They have to pen you first and they stick the hell out of you to make a mark they can see between the vertebrae even after they clean the area. Then they give you the hornet sting shots of 3 doses of lidocane to deaden the area. The shit of this is that you can still feel your spine pretty well. Then he says "o.k. big stick, pressure and pain, pressure and pain, pressure and pain". He had done over 200 of these in his 20 years of practice and was just working the needle in knowing what I was experiencing. He said he likes to let the patients know exactly what he is doing and what he understands they are feeling. It helped. They stick you in your lower back as you are lying on your side curled up in a tight fetal position and a nurse holds you down. The whole lower half of my body went achy and I could feel the fluid moving out. It takes about 2 or 3 minutes for the sample to complete. He told me what he saw so far was good, the fluid was clear. He was looking for blood because if you have a bleeder that is found, they can fix that, they do it all the time. But if you have a bleeder and they don't find it - it is a good chance that you will die.

We waited, and waited, and waited again for the lab results on the spinal fluid so everything could be validated. Kim went home towards the end - and - the results came back. I was good. SO loose weight, take care of yourself, get back on you blood pressure medicine and don't miss it, and... you are a dumb ass. I was happy to be OK, I was feeling very stupid and pathetic for my condition. Kim, Tracy, everyone I talked to helped me with my dignity. Kim and I went to get coffee this morning and talked through how we felt. This was good, and I don't think we are done accumulating feelings about this ordeal.

I left the hospital after 12 hours at 124/75... time for me to stop killing myself - and live like I have something to love... because I do.

Betrayed

2009-02-10T07:47:00.002-06:00

The other day I was filling out my questions on my lesson on Betrayal and as I filled out the Judas "faces" in my life - I started to write slower, and get a sinking feeling in my stomach. How come every time I have an opportunity to give an account of some indigestible category of decay from my history... it is always a "list". It was too easy, I simply thought of anyone of significant visibility in my young life and I had a clear story of betrayal to associate with them. So... la, la, la... whatever. All of that makes it easy now to fill out small group questionnaires on how people have f***ed with my relative innocence growing up. I always can answer the questions readily, have a story to tell, and clear examples of how people can show little regard for doing the "best they can" to raise a child without kicking around their desires, hope, and confidence like a tin can.

All of that is a sequel to my pursuit and understanding of my stories - I know them - I am not afraid to tell them - I feel pathetic... there are too many. See, where all my great examples leave me is with the understanding of another caustic reality. Betrayal, Powerlessness, Abandonment, Ambivalence, Sexual Abuse, Incestuous Events, Alcoholism, Spiritual Abuse... the gamut of type A and type B trauma - well, all that shit has consequences... every moment of it affected me, and then it reinforced the reinforcement of the affects of the effects. If I have all that... all that, then who am I. What am I.

I don't know how I walk down the street anymore. For all the damage I know I have, run from, and act out... harming everyone around me. Well there must be volumes of sewage I don't see - things I do, believe, and foist that feel "normal" to me. When I read about the damage and consequences of just one category - Betrayal - I think "what I must do to people, how I probably act and don't even know it... I am dangerous, I am a burden"... you can see the sinking - evil feels pleased and humored.

SO, am I a glorious mess, or just a mess? Right now, this is where I find myself. And I have to teach a room full of wounded people the topic and effects of betrayal... tonight.

Tired

2009-02-08T11:59:00.003-06:00

Still here and feeling almost too tired to shit... or write. Tres loves it when I lead with cursing for no added value... Allender says "there are no bad words, just inappropriate usage of them"... so I was just hassling Tres with that poop-a-luza back there, not trying to set everyone up for a "shock" post! I have not been getting up as early for about a month now because things feel like quite a bit of swirling chaos. I am currently leading 3 grace groups, transitioning to a new position at work, and transitioning a violent vomiting diarrhea virus slowly through every member of my family. I was the first to get it and oh it was a scene man... I had stomach acid burns on my throat as well as my most glorious fecal regulation valve. It is relentless. My oldest son experienced a simultaneous stomach and bowel evacuation that just about blew a hole in the side of our bathtub! And I cleaned the whole thing up. I have also been fighting allergies doing their best to fill my ears, head, throat, and lungs with Flem constantly for a month now.

Anyhow, it is not that I have not had stuff to write - I just have not had the gumption to get after it. Every time I find time to sit down - I just feel like sitting there and melting for a while.

The other night while receiving feedback from my supervisor on how I showed up leading my all women's grace group... I got so triggered I could barely stand up when I got home. I was calling myself a fat homo and certain I should not be doing this ministry because I am not enough of a man to help anyone. I waited for my wife to pursue me and she did... she made me name the truth and left me to sit in it.

So basically life has been a little swirly adventure lately and I have been remiss in not sharing what is going on... I'll shoot for more this month.

Defiance

2009-01-04T09:18:00.002-06:00

A woman of beauty and depth that sat in a small group I was facilitating said something to me once that has never left me. Tonya has seen enough crap in her life that when she looks me in the eyes to offer words, they bear absorption... she has paid a high price to have words of love for others. Another thing that marks Tonya is that she is a bit of a rebel - I laugh as I write that - I believe I love and married one as well, and I know and love several other rebellious beauties. I am really smiling right now as I think of all of you - and you know who you are...

Anyhow, after I had spilled out some of my deeply personal ugliness to my group... giving them some stepping stones into the mess at the bottom of their own closets, Tonya found me. After the group was over she caught me in a little bit of shame and made sure she grabbed my eyes. She said "Russ, you are a fighter, a warrior and a rebel in your heart - you fight for us, you call us to more, you told us to fight for our lives" then she asked "When are you going to fight for yours Russ, when are you going to stand in DEFIANCE to evil and your own destructive garbage..." Tonya saw how I sabotage my glory and she hated it. When she said the word defiance - it resonated with me deeply. I was struck with hope. Well, that was about 3 years ago and much water has passed under the proverbial shitbridge since. One thing that has happened though is that I have begun to understand much more of my story and God's presence in it - in that, I have seen where I have listened to the loud clanging cymbal of evil. My surrender to survival and evils anonymity for my life and family pisses me off. Tonya's words are now clawing their way into what I hope to be sustained truth for me in this year.

I am "into" resolutions and this year I have list of them... they all resolve to one though - to fight, to walk in defiance to my own destruction and evils soothing encouragement towards that end. And in that light, I must stop writing this post - I have some rebelling to do!

"oh..."

2008-12-31T08:39:00.002-06:00

Tres told me the other day that only Lib replied to my "Christian guilt trips" post / huffing fustian because so few of you agreed with me... Well that does 2 things - First it makes Tres feel better about his moment of weakness where he was stroked softly into lemmingdom as the whole congregation joined the self flagellating murmur in unison "we are unclean, we must give money to redeem ourselves..." (now that was just a total shot at Tres because he is a quintessential "individualist" that celebrates difference and - he would not pass up the opportunity to laugh)... AND secondly, I was amped up again this morning watching the news and it made me want to write something - but crap - it feels like I have another "rant" dog-paddling around in my brain which, well I don't want to exasperate everyone. This blog puts me in a unique situation - blogging can be a place where you say "I don't give a crap what anyone thinks" and write whatever you feel (this can be a playground for evil) - or it can be a place where you "go safe" and cleanse your writing into thematic pedagogy and rumination about whatever you read in the bible that morning in your prayer closet (shit, I did not read this morning and I don't have a prayer closet and I literally feel some ancient Baptist guilt near my colon telling me I would not be such a mess if this I read my bible and prayed more... paradoxically true). OR, as in my case, you realize you love just about everyone that reads your writing and you want to write something meaningful yet fun yet edgy yet humorous yet Godly yet... oh f*** that - here is what popped in my head watching the news.

I saw Fred Edwords, the spokespenis for the American Humanist Association - a bunch of activist "intellectual" atheists that make a living in the courts removing all things Christian from public view and replacing them with the religion of anti-theism - blackness, evil. They are pissed about Warren praying at the inauguration, a bible being used... all things and anything Christian that will be present when Obama is sworn in. Any time I see the likes of Bill Mahar, Marylin Manson... any overt mocking of God, I start to boil - evil is laughing - Satan isn't, I am certain he thinks they are idiots also and is unconcerned with them, they are his - no it is the stupid ugly ones that laugh, the obedient demon hoard that hound us - bastards.

Years ago I had a vision for a painting that I don't have the talent to paint but it is clear in my head and watching Mr. Edwords this morning made it pop up again. It's setting is Heaven... I imagined a moment were Marylin Manson dies for whatever reason right in the middle of one of his concerts and this painting is set moments after that, the very second he first stands before Jesus. He has not had a chance to drop to his knees yet, he is at that moment of epiphany that his entire existence has been seriously erroneous. Jesus is facing us in the painting, he is huge, he is Kingly but real dressed in white. The painting has a dark blue background, almost like night, with stars and everyone is "up in the night" somewhere. There are shadows of the multitude behind Him but they are not prominent to this picture - this is between Jesus and Mr. Manson at first. Marilyn is facing Jesus (his back to us), and he is looking up to the face of Jesus... all sweaty from the concert wearing his buttless leather thong pants all tattooed and pierced with fake blood dripping. His hair is wet and messy and both arms are dropped, dangling after a release of his shoulders - he is standing in exhale, in revelatory defeated understanding, he is in a sense - shameful. He is speechless but for one word, which is in quotes, small at the very bottom of the painting on it's white border - it is also the name of the painting... it says, manson says - "oh..."

It is Marylin Manson's ultimate oh shit moment, his oh moment, it is a moment of untold sadness, undesired vengeance, and the finality of the irrevocable. This painting makes you very sad for Marylin as your rush of vengeance drains (because evil is no longer present in this painting). You feel satisfied with the truth, very grateful for the Mercy extended to you, and... mostly, sad for Jesus.

Jesus is faced with one of his children, He loves this boy with unending affection and now He must speak Marylin's true name to him and then exercise his position of King. Jesus does not enjoy these moments at all. Jesus has cried his last tear for this little one and He is about to reveal to His child the accounting of his life - including the moment that Manson turned away from love and made his pact with evil, an agreement he never broke - Jesus will show him all the places he offered forgiveness, all the moments where He was rejected... Marylin is faced with all his choices, all his pain, all his anger and all that was offered to free him... and he understands what he has done and who he has refused, who he mocked in rebellion.

Anyhow, this morning watching the news - in my imagination I saw old Mr. Edwords standing there in the stead of Manson... in his gray suit, round glasses, with his glorious but fatally flawed intellect unable to bloviate any defense but for one word - "oh..."

Christian guilt trips

2008-12-23T07:20:00.004-06:00

My friend was yappin at me yesterday about a "commercial" soliciting guilt that was shown in his very large, wildly popular, and actually really excellent church. It's Oak Hills, Lucado's church, it really is a great church and because my friend likes it - I know it is good because he is wise and has enough phobic paranoia about protecting the dignity of his family that he is very trustworthy when it comes to reviews. I.E. his bullshit sensor works well. Anyhow he was marveling at the most excellent production quality of this video that was shown during church last Sunday during the offering that served its purpose in his heart at convincing him that something is seriously askew with Christians servitude to the worldly evil purposes of the commercialized Christmas season.

The video was promoting a group with a noble purpose. They are a Christian organization whose goal is to provide clean drinking water to the earth... primarily starting in Africa where that is a massively huge and daunting problem that gives birth to a myriad of other issues that plague the people of that nation - the people with the awesome smiles, haunting eyes, and voices from God. Anyhow, the guy that produced this video to solicit money from this congregation used a premise that totally pisses me off and is straight from hell in my opinion.

His message was expounding on the enormous amount of money that Christians spend feeding the commercial Christmas pig buying gifts and trees and lights and cookies and, and, and... when little African children with tears in their eyes just want one sip of clean water to drink - and all you bitches and bastards ought to be ashamed of yourselves for your greedy American Christian greediness! O.k. so, some of that was my expounding implication spiced up with some cussing for deliciousness... (I am trying to make Libby's "quotes, yo" blog section!) -BUT- the point is intact. The infomercial said if this organization had just 10 billion dollars they could provide clean drinking water to every soul on the earth - that's it. I thought, if that were true we would have done it already because the U.S. has given twice that much just to Africa to fight AIDS in the last 8 years. Bush is loved by that nation for what he has done in that area... anyhow - the whole analogy just pisses me off.

First of all, just ask for your damn money without the guilt trip. Your cause is noble and Godly and does not need manipulation to feed its belly. Secondly it is chicken-shit to pick on the questionable celebration of Christmas as the gluttony you want to slice just a piece off of to meet your groups goals. Here is what I think. Christmas to me is a wild and lavish celebration to pour out your best perfume and oil to hail the birth of the One that gave us Living Water! Yep, evil has perverted it and the worldly heathen hoard has jumped on it with fervor. That does NOT mean that I as a Christian should not take it back for the Glory it is truly intended. I celebrate Christmas with all the trimmings and I love, love it. -AND- my family enjoys it and it is all about smiles and joy and giving and family and wine and food and love and in worship of the King of Glory. HE is worth celebrating decadently... AND He is not lost on the whole drinking water problem!

Let me tell you something, if evil can get Christians to stop celebrating Christmas with fervor and increase the guilt of non-christian christmas commercialism... well that is just perfect for him. So screw him and the shit-horse he rode in on! I defy evil and celebrate Jesus the King with all the bling and bang!

Oh, and here is ten bucks for your drinking water cause.

SNUGGY

2008-12-17T08:13:00.003-06:00

I got Kim a cool present and the store that I got it from was giving away blankets with every purchase... well, I took the blanket and packed it on top of the box that has the present in it and then wrapped it up. So the top of the gift is poofy and soft (puffy is the correct word but poofy just feels more appropriate!). I have Kim pretty sure that I have purchased her a "Snuggy" from the number off of the TV commercial advertising this amazing peice of fleece. If you don't know what a snuggy is... well, it is a large fleece blanket with a neck hole and 2 arm holes sewed into it. It is one of the gayest looking frivolities I have ever had to endure in my commercial watching career... I am quite certain these people buy "Beneful" dog food for their poodles. The big selling point of the snuggy is that you can answer the phone easily with the snuggy on! Wow. They even show a 40 something blond "mom" struggling with a pained look on her face trying desperately to weave her way through the nightmarish hell of freeing her arms from a heinous demon possessed "regular" blanket in order to answer the phone - it almost makes your heart jump as you give a mental nod in your moment of weakness. There is that small evil voice of concerned reason telling you, she is not an actor - this is just a really high quality security camera in a really well lit room that caught that poor perfectly groomed former super-model struggling in the death grip of a sleeveless blanket to answer the most important phone call of her life!!! And you think... "I NEED a snuggy also, I must NEVER risk what is happening to that poor poor lady!"

Then they show a whole family wearing snuggy's at a sporting event and you come back to your senses as visions of a religious cult flash before your eyes... but damn, you can look out of your binoculars without your snuggy falling off! Maybe if they camo it I could use it while deer hunting... yessss, yes a camo snuggy and a bowl of beneful for my shit-zhu in her pink sweater.

If any of you have purchased a snuggy, beneful dog food, or you own a Shitzhu... I'll love you anyway but it will only be because I am "tolerant"!

Merry Christmas Y'all

Too much Love

2008-12-08T21:47:00.002-06:00

Did you ever think that too much love would be what would just about kill you? I wonder if that is what God was talking about when he would only reveal his backside briefly as he passed by on the mountain... because to try and take Him in, all that love, face on - that would kill you.

The notion that what we are really afraid of is... our glory, our dignity - well that was a logically understood notion that I believed was true, until recently. Now it is an in-my-face experiential reality that threatened to crush me.

So, all you wounded rabble, try this one on for size. Most of us (not all but most) chose our spouse and/or are actively training our spouse to join us in our own destruction. Yes there are lots of other reasons you chose each other and yes there are lots of good stuff you actively grow and struggle through... but don't dismiss how clever you are (I am) at working that relationship to keep you/me small, screwed up, familiar, controlled, surviving, and numb. All of our (my) addictions are not about filling an emptiness - they are completely about destroying my hope, crushing my dignity, keeping my glory manageable and understood.

When I was in the seventh grade I went out for football for the Eisenhower Generals. We were the feeder school to the state champion Churchill Chargers and that means something in the football crazed state of Texas. Anyhow, I had a notion that I was a decent athlete because I would hear comments that my friends and their parents would say as they watched me play sports here and there at different times as I grew up. Well, I went out for football at Eisenhower and I busted my ass for the first two weeks. I just did everything I was told and I did it at 100 miles per hour. So, what happened... well the coaches noticed. At the end of the first 2 weeks it was time to announce the starters. The coaches had us all gathered into the locker room and they were talking about outstanding effort and what it takes to make it on that team. Well, I was used as an example of "outstanding effort" and I was called out in front of the 100 or so boys that were trying out as someone to emulate because even though I was small - I was everything a good football player needs to be. I was made a starter on both offense, and defense. I was so proud of myself and happy I could hardly breath... Then came the shame. I was 12 years into a nightmare at my home of alcoholic parents and various other shame filled appetizers that had me alone, afraid, and distressed. I told no one of my football glory. I showed up the very next practice with my throttle pulled back about 50% hoping to fade into the middle somewhere that I would not stand out or be expected to live up to the glory that had been seen in me. I could not fathom that I was special and it was way uncomfortable... I crushed it - I was second team by the end of the season and second/third string through the 8th grade... I played nothing in high school, I joined nothing... I survived my life.

A few weeks ago at the ministry for the abused I am involved with in Michigan I was gathered with all of my peers on our little leadership team on the last evening of our successful and beautiful week. We were giving words to each other concerning our dignity, our glory. I was ruined with love. I received words that I dare not take in... I stood out, and Amy, Tracy, Curt, Mark, and Dorie among others said things to me that I struggled to contain. This was a moment where God was smothering me with hope and thumping my forehead with the reality that I had begun to live the dreams I made with Him. A mysterious princess used the word "Hero" for me... I was told by tear filled beauty with a pace of unbreakable truth - "I will never give up on you..." A rich man of kindness and depth would want me as "my Brother"... there were more, more words that came flying across that moment and crashed into me...

I was disrupted.

I came home. I used every subtle insidious resource at my disposal over the next 4 weeks to destroy those words. To hide. To shrink. I pulled my throttle back 50% and faded into the second string. Tracy caught me. Kim waited for me. Evil has not won.

Kim has the most power to disrupt me. She offers me words and intimacy that are the places of dreams I never thought would be for me. No wonder I have such a hard time with containing her love, my boys love... I am surrounded by people that want to love me, be around me... it is enough to kill me.

I hope again.

Color

2008-12-03T08:13:00.002-06:00

I was telling my friend Dave the other day that the process of real community puts the color back into your life. As we log the miles on our journey and begin to face the depth of our sin… we begin to see in color again as community comes to weep with us and remind us of our dignity. When I was just surviving my life day by day I was very black and white – I had an answer for everything. The well meaning yet formula oriented church fosters having an answer for everything, black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. No room for colors – not even gray. People used to tell me "your so black and white, decisions seem easy for you". They were so right, I had an answer for everything based on what I had allowed to be programmed into my belief system about God and the Bible.

In that life I was arrogant, loud, self-righteous, and freakin right! Now... don't get me wrong - I am still all those things but for different reasons! Not so much really though, I find myself much less sure of what I know - in a sort of "what will I learn next" way.

I used to see Jesse Jackson and just roll my eyes - completely sure that whatever was drooling out of his mouth was idiocy, divisive, and condescending. The night Barack was elected however... my judgements gave way to curiosity and I was moved seeing Jesse Jackson with tears streaming down his face… the best parts of him, the parts that fight for what is good, were overwhelmed at seeing a black man become President – it felt healing to me. It was colorful. I told Kim – “I guess God knows what he is doing…”, she laughed and said “ya think?...”

The journey back to your story, forward to your hope, and bled for in your present… provides a “liberal” splashing of glorious color to the way you experience and live life – it removes judgment from your conservatism and embraces questions that rock religious dogma – never compromising what is true, Godly, and pure.

Evil perverts the color of the Spirit into the worst counterfeits of god hating left wing porno pathology and gives the “form-church” such heebie-jeebie’s that they retreat back to the judgmental hateful fear and hiding of having all the answers – black and white.

I am sure glad I don't know everything - it feels exciting, dangerous, fun, and Colorful. It is hard to grasp like Spirit - our Comforter - such a disruptor yet a place of rest - She defines the spectrum and restores flexibility to my perspective. No more 2 color, brittle smallness.

Explanation

2008-11-20T06:10:00.003-06:00

I feel the need to explain myself... and I don't think I can. I have not necessarily been "empty" and I have not been itching either. I do feel flat or just slightly wavy. It would be like walking up to the edge of the sea to find it all subdued, serene and "ripply"... and you'd be like "wow, that is beautiful... but we came here to surf! This sucks". I went to do what I do at that ministry to the wounded in Michigan (Open Hearts) about a month ago and when I got back - I have been in a battle. It's o.k. to say you have been in a battle and you have fought back the minions of hell valiantly with a bloody sword, prayerfully, playfully, tearfully... fully - and then there are the times when the fallen angel is laughing at you.

I feel laughed at and half of that feels impossible, and half of it pisses me off. The part that feels impossible is where I feel to ashamed to fall at the feet of Jesus. There is no telling the number of things he has spared me the last few weeks but... I have not been spared a relentless and draining drubbing from the loud clanging cymbal about everything I am not. The messages are once again old and familiar and it feels as natural as blinking my eyes to agree with them.

I did not run off all prodigally and rebellious - I just went and did some work with the wounded. Then I was approached as I rested... I am shaking my head as I write, beating myself up for not abiding with the comforter - agreeing again with shit-head that I will never get it right enough for long enough to be able to "feel" the confident rest of hope...

So... that is somewhat where I am at - please forgive me for withholding myself - I hope to get more in touch with the part of me that is pissed off at evil, and willing to risk surrender to God and all that He offers to the wounded and ashamed.

Consistent Place to Land

2008-09-28T23:36:00.003-05:00

I guess when pilots fly airplanes they, and we as their passengers would love for the landing strips we are heading for to be, if nothing else, consistent. Consistently there, maintained, long enough, obstacle free, etc. I have been thinking about what it means to be a consistent place for my wife and boys to land when they are flying in smooth weather, and when all hell has broken loose and chaos is the order of the day.

I have maintained some consistent postures for my family. I am here for them... my physical presence is found in their lives on a consistent basis. I go to my boys practices, games, school functions... we go camping, motorcycle riding, vacationing... I have a consistent presence for Kim as well in her life and activity. I provide consistently also. Well bravo - while those things are important and good - they are easy when I really think about it. I long to be consistently present with grace, compassion, emotion, and receptivity. I long to consistently surrender my burden to control and let myself be surprised by moments... I long to live in relationship, connected deeply to my heart in a vulnerable posture.

In order for me to capture the hearts of my wife and boys - I will need to contain who they are with my strength, with who God created me to be... in that no other man can be as good of a husband to Kim as God made me to be. No other man can be as perfect a father for my boys as God has made me to be for them.

Lord help me to believe the truth, help me believe that no other, no one else was created to be more than I am for my wife and boys. Give me a long, consistent, safe heart... with energy and conviction to remain a soft landing place for my family. Lord let me reflect your grace to them, and love them through your eyes. Lord let me receive the smile of their hearts that I may be filled enough to give them all my love in your strength...

To be loved...

2008-09-23T06:14:00.006-05:00

In my case... the greatest challenge is not to love it is that of being loved. To allow myself to be loved is the burden that encases my heart, my mind. My wife really only has one true request of me - there are many subtexts - and always it boils down to one question... "when will you allow us (her and the boys) to love you?"

I know that is my cross because all other requests of my heart and ability feel so doable. When I am asked to let people in it always stuns me... I look down, and I have no words. There is nothing to "do" there, nothing to grab... there is only surrender. Is my wife the voice of God in her request?

Another interesting thing about this request is that it does not make me feel shame as much as it feels so inviting when I am asked. Someone wants to love me... even though it feels impossible in that I am not really sure how to do that - I really want to be able to enjoy that. Here is what it has to entail for me: To speak the words of my heart, in the moments, to those I love. Not just on prepared occasions - in the moments. To invite companionship in the moments, accompanied by a belief that those I love "want" to be with me. To shift some of my other centered hyper-vigilance on my own defensive armor - I must capture infinite moments of opportunity to allow love into my life, not wait for monuments of occasion to lower the walls and contradict my daily escape. Carpe diem Russell - love is waiting to enjoy you.

On a side note... If I have to watch one more f***ing Beneful dog food commercial - I think my head is going to explode. Those things are embarrassing, they drain testosterone from your man-gland. Beneful is obviously Purina's gay division. The commercial is always some Nancy talking overly happy metro manicured single waif of pathetic smiley energy talking to his obviously shelter rescued mutt, because where else would a thoughtful gay get their dog. The one I just saw on TV was an advertisement for Beneful Playful Life (totally gay name) and the happy Mo lover was lamenting to his dog a future devoid of fun if he did not have enough energy to play with his "Mr. Fuzzy Man" dog toy... a falic looking blue log of waggish joy. So if the dog just ate some Beneful they could frolic together on the carpet playing with Mr. Fuzzy Man, holy crap that just writing that sent a gay shiver up my spine. SO, if anyone that reads this blog feeds their dogs Beneful, please for the love of Pete, keep your Mr. Fuzzy Man imprisoned in it's secret place and away from my heterosexual bulldog!

I am my mom's brother...

2008-09-19T06:55:00.003-05:00

I was thinking about writing through this a while ago... I don't have a ton to say but, some.

Also, the title of the post has nothing to do with toothless trailer antics or NASCAR racing. My mom thinks I am her brother Russell. He is the youngest of her 3 brothers and closest in age to her. I was named after him.

My mom has had about 6 strokes and she can't communicate hardly at all anymore. She has regressed mentally and may have Alzheimer's. Anyhow... I never got to tell my mom what happened to me under her and my Dad''s watch. My dad passed away about 10 years ago and he died without knowing either... I guess he knows now huh. My mom has no problem saying "Russell" when asked who I am, but she means her brother. If you don't know... under my mom and dad's care I was sexually abused for 5 years as a teenager by a man that lived behind my friend Todd. My parents were both Alcoholics and silent... I have lots of flashes of scenes in my mind from my home that are very sexually explicit as well, and the worry I waded through trying to keep people from "discovering" my home is what I remember most.

Among all the delightful emotional gifts that my childhood left me with I probably remember the worry the most because it still exists but now in a new form. I still have to protect my mom. Protect her physically, financially, etc. I have to "handle" everything about taking care of her. I have never experienced a break from the burden of taking care of / protecting / worrying about my parents. I know that is much of me, and much of... just the facts of the situation. Our parents and families exist and we deal with that reality. It is just emotionally exhausting sometimes and sometimes I wish I could hand some of the shame I lug around, back to my mom... it is not mine. But now that I am her "brother"... that may not be able to happen in a non-"metaphorical" way any longer. So that leaves me ambivalent, the destroyer of love.

Nothing about family has ever been "normal" for me... that was the word I used to ask God to grant me in reference to my home when I was little. So, occasionally I wish I was not my mom's brother and that I was someones son worth giving a crap about. I wish I could take off this coat of shame that takes many forms, that doesn't even fit and hang it in the closet of the people that set me up to believe it was mine. Easy to know, obviously monumentally difficult to live out.

He Knew...

2008-09-17T06:16:00.004-05:00

I was sitting on the potty this morning... where much revelatory thought originates. It has to be something about getting the poop out of your life that allows new wine to enter your brain. Kim and I are taking this stuff called "Colonix" for 30 days to clean us out. Our bulldog got a common parasite that is contagious to humans... she is fine now, and apparently this happens to dog owners all the time without them knowing it, but Kim and I were not hip with just letting our 40 something bodies rid itself without a little help. So, when you are regularly using a product called "Colonix" you can imagine its delightful effect on the amount of time and frequency that you visit "the place of revelatory thought".

Anyhow, this morning while evacuating I was thinking about another rapturous bodily purgation... vomit. I was thinking about the scripture where Jesus tells us we return to our sin as a dog returns to its vomit. Intentionally putrid and graphic because when I return to what I know brings me and all I relate to, pain and brokenness - it is graphic. I thought... you know what, I think He created dogs with the desire to return to eat their own vomit just so He would have a picture to show us of what it is like when we return to our sin, agree with evil, and abort our beauty. I don't know what He was thinking when He added butt sniffing and an affection for eating cat poop to a dogs chromazatory configuration but I feel all warm inside about the vomit thing... like fresh manna.

Then, I thought... "He knew". He created us for Eden -and- He built into our bodies... an immune system. HA! I got Him... He knew we were going to fall. There was no disease in Eden yet we have an immune system. Why, we even have the ability... to VOMIT! Our bodies know how to make our gut convulse and send reverse ripples up our esophagus muscles to launch offensive stomach contents on whatever happens to be in front of us. Babies are especially adept at this! There is nothing to make you need to vomit in Eden, there will be nothing to make us sick in Heaven either.

Now, I know God lives outside of time and space and of course He knew and, and, and... I know He did not cause us to sin nor did He create evil, He simply created the potential for it all when He spiced up our lives with... free will. And, in His brilliance He went ahead and threw some defense mechanisms into creation... just in case. You know, just in case we exercised some of that free will to see if we could be like Him. He knew we would and that sucks at the same time that it is the greatest act of adventurous and raucous love EVER! He threw in free will; I am free to dance, I am free to love, I am free to choose. "Choice" we die for the right to have it and bitch to no end when we have to make one.

This is really a wild ride, cool move God, thank you sir may I have another - love - Russ

Snobs Everywhere

2008-09-15T06:40:00.005-05:00

What the hell... literally. I thought that what people labeled as "elite" thought about people not considered such, well, I thought that was mostly a stereotype. Turns out... it's mostly not! I figured most people that consider themselves intellectual would certainly understand that your accent and where / how you were raised has little to do with your IQ. There is something real about an "experiential" IQ but who's to say what set of experiences make for the best brainial servitude... (I made that word up) I mean, we all have our own story and it is a big part of what makes us unique and interesting. Yes, all this Sara Palin bashing shit has brought on my amazement. Listening to Matt Damon, Bill Mahr, and all the other 5'3" metro beta males bloviate with nutless astonishment at how in the world a "hockey mom" could stare down Vladimir Putin... it just pisses me off to no end.
I have my own vignette here that I think fuels my hot flash. The last time I led at SALTS... about half way through the week one of my east coast attendees, that was a professional counselor, gave me this headline at the end of a small group where I caught him in his nancy victim dance. He said "you know, when I first got here and heard that accent, and found out you were from Texas... well I thought this was going to be a real waste of time, but you blah, blah, blah..." My right eyebrow was raised and my brain was spinning at that point waiting for him to finish so I could just nod and say "yyyyep". I was further insulted when 3 or 4 other members of the group nodded their approval of this idea that someone of my social and geographic underpants would have surprised them with much of anything to offer. I did just nod and say "yyyyep". -an asside- The executive admin that sits right next to me at work asked me the other day after hearing me say "yyyyep" to an employee... "what are you really saying when you say 'yep'? I have a feeling there are lots of unspoken words behind that". Well, very observant... caught, that is what I was. -end aside- So, when I "yep'ed" my group and my east coast counseling suitor with a nod, I was thinking; "I am about to rip everyone of you a new emotional asshole with my diminished intellectual capacity, and oh, in case I forget to tell you later - kiss my ass".
Anyhow, I think I am disappointed at how "dumb" some smart people are when they fail to celebrate what makes us different. I would love to see Sara Palin stare down Putin with her bear hunting focus and effectively tell him to f***-off with her hockey mom banter. Matt Damon is a really good actor and a self exposed drooling idiot at the same time. Really, he is brilliant and bent. His judgements have blinded his brain. I hope I don't get there ever in my life. I will still watch Damon's movies - I like him. I will never watch Mahr, he is the spawn of the demon in charge of shit.
End of rant... Lord help me be curious today, I'm all disrupted...

Public Shaming

2008-09-09T08:06:00.002-05:00

My boys both play football. JT is the starting outside linebacker (SAM) for his middle school and the younger is the snapper for his 9 year old team. During their football lives they have had coaches that have delivered exactly what you would expect from men that are stuck in their "glory days". They treat 9, 10, 11 year olds like they wish they would have been when they were 9, 10, and 11 but did not become until they were 15, 16, or 17... wild-eyed, adrenaline pumped, and full of obedient aggression that lived for the chance knock the living shit out of any opposing player. In their pissed off attitude towards the kids they coach and their inability to be everything they were not as a senior in high school, they flow in and out of public shaming sessions to vent their frustrations with the kids. The aggressive kids quickly become favorites that are lauded and used to punish the less aggressive kids in hitting drills. The less aggressive kids are always shamed in the exact same way... it literally is always this way - they are asked if they are girls, if they want to kiss the opposing player, if they want to dance with them, play patty-cake with them, hug them, and/or go play with their barbie dolls. This always leads to a dropped head, sometimes tears for what terrifies them, and often - injuries as the less aggressive kid tries to unload on a bigger player (as they are instructed) and end up getting hurt.

One out of 5 respond to the shaming and start hitting, becoming a better football player. It is always funny to watch at the end of a practice, when the kids take their helmets off and the coach realizes through looking at the players young exhausted little-kid faces... that he is coaching 9 year boys not college freshmen... He now realizes that he has been an over the top asshole to "kids" and begins the inevitable ritual of defensive "but" laden apology. "Now, you boys have to understand that when I yell at you - I don't mean anything by it - I care about each and every one of you, I don't mean to hurt your feelings - BUT - you need to learn blah blah blah...". It is always pathetic and you see these men on the playing field of life and human relationships as true wimps and barbie doll chicken-shit adolescents. I can never stay on the sideline, I always make my way out to the field to pick off the boys that I notice are drowning in shame and I let them know who they are, sometimes I just watch out for my son but as the season gets going and the shaming gets more sincere - I step in for whoever needs it.

Now, also understand this... some of this "shaming" ritual, when done wisely, is necessary and wakes up boys to let them know, maybe for the first time, YOU ARE NOT A GIRL. Some of this kicks the gland secreting testosterone in the nuts so these boys become young little warriors. They need aggression to play that game and when it is all developed right - it is a great experience and a really great game for boys on their way to becoming men. If dads are around to manage the messages entering their boys minds with words about who they are - things go well. I love football, it is a lot of fun.

I was thinking about this because evil relishes in public shaming. The pastor at the church I recently left is a smooth, masterful slinger of shame-shit. Like the coaches I have watched, he is pathetically unaware of his arrogance and the damage he inflicts. Watching him in action turns your stomach and causes you to fantasize about him getting his due in creatively painful ways one day. What had me thinking was... where am I like this, where do I show up as a shamer in my insecure, flatulent defensiveness.

Lord help me quell my judgement stay curious about these men I see as pathetic so I can see where I am their brother. Give me eyes to see and words to offer their victims... my victims.

Shrinking

2008-09-08T06:21:00.005-05:00

I shrink so that I will not be too far ahead of those I long to have with me... I won't climb out of any place to glory, even just a moment of it, if I sense I will be leaving my wife, my friends... and even myself and what I am used to, behind. So I shrink and do not give myself anything to joy over, and anyone else anything to swim to. I stay in the pit with you. Oh I may be 2 rungs up the ladder but I am just hangin out or sympathetically climbing back down to join the slop fest on the bottom.

This is all really subtle inside of me also. I control movement, I control the places I engage in creating so hope is limited. I am seeing that hope is way more frightening to me than I would imagine. Saying that feels like saying that moist 3 layer chocolate cake is really scary to me. I love chocolate cake. What the hell? (exactly... hell probably has plenty to do with this)

Not a long post, just where I am at. Writing represents hope for me, so I am pushing through in places. But there is so much more to write... so much more. I am controlling this also.

And, please hear me - I don't feel sad like this is an "I suck" and "see how bad I suck" post. This actually feels like an important layer of lies that I have found comfortable for survival. This contract with evil works well, it leaves me alone here... all warm and cuddly - safe. Shieza-mother-f***in-crap!

I long to be more, give Kim something to respect, someone to love that is not always just maneuvering to be barely associated with his glory. Give my boys a dad that fights evil with a bloody sword and plays to exhaustion. Glorious... full of hope... chocolate cake

Scary?

Fishing Part II

2008-09-03T05:42:00.003-05:00

I wanted to write a semi-serious post about fishing and what it was like for me... I was there in 2 places. First, as a man among men. This is a difficult place for me when shame creeps in - I can feel like an outcast and a "victim" in a place I don't belong. At the table of men I grapple with all my father did not teach me, show me, and help me understand. I get overwhelmed with all I have missed and "must not know". It feels like there are thousands of secrets, feelings, understandings, and experiences that have permanently eluded me. It leaves me empty, afraid, and alone... even when I am surrounded by inviting men. This is the tragedy of shame from a silent alcoholic father given to me. As a father myself I am left with TV, sermons, observances, and vignettes from men I feel are "real" fathers to learn what I am to do for and with my own boys... I always feel behind and less-than what a good father would / should do - a place of sadness and desperation for me when shame creeps in.

The key here is "when shame creeps in". When I am living apart from evils back rub I experience different things entirely. The table of men becomes a place I laugh, raise one eyebrow, and feel empowered to invite others to more. I usually even look for places that need leadership there and deal with the longing to take men further towards the middle of themselves. If I can relax, I mostly just laugh and enjoy - it is cool. As far as being a father, in my strength, I feel like no one could be more than I can for them... I wonder what memories they will tell of about me when they are men.

This fishing trip I mostly felt invited and "one of" / beside - not left out or behind. John helped me curb my hypervigalance, i.e. the places I am on-duty and just enjoy moments. His hypervigalence was able to notice my "on-duty-ness" right away and he invited me to relax and ponder this place being different. It felt good to settle in and enjoy. That is what I did and I soaked in the men, the camp, the expansive wilderness, tons of fishing, great man-food, fun cards, and all the man words that filled the days and evenings. I cooked the pancakes every other morning and that was fun as well. I caught tons of fish so that was great. I won 3/4 of a game of cards (part of a 4 way tie + a 3 way tie) so that was great... I felt as a man, part of the men... so that, was great.

Thanks to all the men on the fishing trip, their invitation to me, their care for me, and their inclusion of me:

Doc - hilarious, I loved how much he cares about making this trip great for everyone involved and uses his dysfunction to benefit the cause. I loved watching him loosen his grip on control and enjoy the moments... He told stories, and his stories were rich. I had the feeling that Doc has had a full life and he lives his dreams - in short, he was and is - great.

Stoub - He was a strong, steady, and inviting presence. He engaged me and is good at letting men be men. I enjoyed his and Richards friendship.

John - He was the presence of a father for me and his care for where "I was" kept me grounded in enjoyment. He moved in a couple of times when it was appropriate, and mostly just sat with me and enjoyed.

Jim K. - He felt like a friend on this trip. He is kind, wise, and I can tell he cares about me. The words that come to my mind when I think of him on this trip are safe and fun. He is an example for me and a place of strength.

Richard - He was hilarious and accommodating. He was my roommate and cruises through is days and nights with a smooth life stride that is marked by a good degree of completeness. When Richard is around... it's all good, whatever is going on, it's all good.

Jim V. - He seemed to be taking us all in and wondering... He flowed into being a good fishermen, winner of cards, and enjoyable presence. He enjoyed my good wine and was a welcome, inviting presence.

Stan - An amazing man... period. It was hard not to marvel at / with him. He is a place of hope, a man of hope. His enjoyment and absorption of every moment was infectious. He is a man you enjoy respecting. His sayings and stories were eye-widening and amazing. Stan is awesome.

I am more for my experience... I wish everyone could go, I hope my boys can experience something like this.

Fishing Part I

2008-08-29T08:31:00.003-05:00

First... just some words and phrases associated with fishing in Canada with 7 men, all minimally 20 years and up to 35 years my senior.

Pee Spot
Pee Tree
Pee Tire
Pee Bottle
Pee Can
Pee Container
Unashamed discussion on the profitable utility of wearing Depends while out fishing all day
Proud Flatulence always followed by a hearty exhale and "ahhhh"
Proud Flatulence to the first 3 notes of the National Anthem in a rest stop bathroom
"Fladrat" an 80 year old Dallas Theological Seminary PHD's way of saying the "F" word when his Up and Down card hand is frustrating
"Cheatin Mug Womp" Long voiced Texas Rancher's term of endearment for questionable card playing tactics
"Great Honks - Stone the Crows - Starve the Lizards" a conglomeration of phrases utilized in sequence to denote something like the phrase "ONWARD Men!", apparently it works well in a sermon also
"I feel like the 'F' word is coming on..." I would say - "Nooooo" they would harmonize to keep me from trashing up the moment
"Woe woe woe woe woe" exactly 5 "woah's (pronounced 'woe')" when cards were moving to fast, falling the wrong way, or even profiting some moment
Lots of discussion about snoring, if you snore, did you snore... snoring
Multiple respirators being attached to faces for sleeping purposes
Careful attention to fiber intake
"Success" a proclamation that multiple men would make if they actually had a good poop that day
"Why are you so happy?" "I had success, I had some throughput, it is exciting" again, actually pooping was an event worthy of all sorts of joy and discussion
Grape Nuts (Bran Buds) and Blue Berries: Pre-Bedtime meal intended to generate the possibility of "success" and "throughput"... Grape Nuts - a cereal that contains neither grapes, or nuts made ground up tree bark named to trick old people into believing it is delicious and profitable for poop production.
Avodart, Premarin, Proscar... prostate medications - another very prominent feature of discussion, concern, care and jocularity among men over 60... oh, and least I forget - 5 cherry tomatoes every morning and with dinner - a mythical medicinal care method for prostrate health embraced by one of the men as vital for survival
"Youth is wasted on the Young" an under the breath comment in reference to me... (at 45 years old) as I dove to the front of the boat to yank up the anchor with envied agility, HA!
Buying 8 Gallons of Gas... 3 times on the Canadian side trying to not buy too much expensive gas as we see if we can get to the US side and save 35 cents a gallon...
Worrying about the cost of a Whopper Burger with Cheese ($1.37), 3 minutes and 58 seconds after spending $83 dollars filling up the gas tank

All wonderful, all hilarious, all... apparently in my future!

I had a blast and I will tell you more in my next post.

Pictures at: http://picasaweb.google.com/russ.engelhardt/CanadaFishing2008 click on slide show.

Gone Fishin

2008-08-15T00:30:00.002-05:00

Dudes... I am out of town from today through the 25th of August. I will be fishing with men in Ontario Canada at Lake Wintering. This will be cool for me... a man trip with men that long to mentor, befriend, enjoy, and even father me in all the good things that God intends in that. This will be a rustic romp in the Canadian wilderness to play cards, drink wine, eat fresh fish, and commune with men.

I don't see myself at the table of men in my shame... these men invite me with patience and vigor to join them and feast on my dignity in the masculine. I look forward to this, I am anxious as well. So, I will let ya'll know how it goes when I get back!

Here's to adventure - Let's rock.

Music God Likes...

2008-08-14T06:37:00.007-05:00

I have thought a lot about music... I think for everyone that pays attention to music (and that is nearly everyone) it is deeply personal. It is almost like a snowflake. As if the way we listen to, enjoy, and absorb music has a unique signature for every individual. This must be mostly true for all sensory pleasures and pain I think... all part of what makes each one of us truly individuals. Like, we can both love Linkin Park or Cheap Trick... but I am sure in the details, we love them for different reasons. This distinctive experiential segmentation as we consume music is nearly always accompanied by passion and often deeply personal. And when I say "deeply", music is often attached to some of the most important, painful, and/or joyful moments in our lives. So songs can be still waters that run deep.

So, next time someone asks you "do you like God of Thunder by Kiss?" - and in your now adult sophistication and music appreciation snobbery you say with a "your pathetic" smirk... "yeah, when I was 11 and stupid! Why... do YOU?" beware of your judgement because you could hear "well, it was the song that was playing on the radio that me and my brothers were laughing and singing along with when we were little, and then we were hit by a drunk driver and they were all killed... that song is the last good memory I have of my brothers, I love that song". HA!, now don't you feel like an asshole. Ass-ide from the fact that the asshole is a glorious biologic device that simultaneously manages gas, liquid, and solids... I was referring to the word asshole in the religious sense!

I say all this to introduce the idea that when it comes to music, who's to say what is "good" and what is not... its ALL personal. It is intensely intimate and given our degree of propensity towards cynicism and intellectual snobbery... we can really find ourselves quite judgmental when music we don't "like" is being pounded into our heads like a migraine.

Well, I was sitting in church a few weeks ago and the music, IMHO, was plastic smiles, tonally middle register, lyrically 7th grade, and just flat uncreative. It felt gooood to be sickened by this talentless effectuation; I felt righteous and aligned with the holy spirit (no caps) as I just knew that God and I thought THIS music "sucks!"... Scenes of swaying charismatics with big hair, hugh teeth, and crisp suits belting out christian "ditties" wafted through my mind and I posed this question to myself - "what music does God like?"

Well - predictably - originally to my disappointment, and then to my humbling - finally offering me a feeling of satisfaction with a smile... I got my answer. Here is what my thoughts heard God say - "I like it all Russell... I love music, period. I created you to create it, play it, sing it, dance to it, perform it. I love a tune hummed while gardening, I love giant productions of sound that you can feel in your bones. I love when my children sing. I love when they sing to me, to each other, to love, to pain, to adventure, to good wine... to anything. All music when it is offered, not used, is profitable for the heart. I love the tones, the chords, the power, the subtle softness, the rockin wildness, and the majestic inspiration. I love it when my talented children offer their talent. I love it when my musically challenged children sing with all they are. I love my poets. Russell, didn't the sound of Jacob and Reyn singing out of tune, wrong worded rhymes when they were little just warm your heart with delicious tears - Oh it did mine..." "yes it did Lord" "Well... so I love it all. Be curious son, listen for the heart that I hear, see the colors I see, smell the fragrance of my children creating beauty - you will smile more. AND, no Russell, this mornings music... did not suck."

I sing these words sometimes, I make up different music and hooks for it, but I sing this:

When I rise...
On the wings of the dawn.
When I settle...
On the far side of the sea.

Even there...
Your hand will find me
Your strong arm...
Will hold me fast.

These are good words to sing in repentance... Sometimes I imagine singing this in front of people, I am not a good singer, but it is fun to imagine.

Waiting for Glory...

2008-08-12T06:29:00.005-05:00

For those of you impatient with waiting... waiting for more from me, well, I am moving. I am in the midst of a fairly terrific battle right now for my heart. Evil has redoubled its efforts. Yesterday I had no, and I mean NO, words... then Kim and I had a talk and I had some. We are being told awful things right now - the words coming out of our mouths are old. Old words that are reliable and thick. These words are heavy black paint of several coats, slathered on our dignity over years when we were young. Not believing them is terrifying. Not believing them is unknown.

We settled into the present, consistent, inviting quiet of Gods voice though. Oh, we were even given options - stay together and exist... stay together and live... split and live - What a piece of shit evil is. It gives us choice: Obvious, another choice: Obvious and "second", and choice: a closer that is the worst option but still has the glory of "life" offered. I think the options evil offered us tickled our desire for freedom... for the knowledge of good and evil (freedom from God, freedom from what It told us were the "demands" of Gods Glory). The apple was offered last night, again. I am happy to report - Adam spoke this time, Eve dropped it on the ground. We stepped away together, again. All good, all good. Just a step though - shit there are a lot of steps.

So I cry for patience from my community that waits. It feels like a lot to explode in shimmering Glory... I know - some of you are thinking "you don't have to explode, and leave the shimmering to Mark, how about we just try stepping down the path". I think I am trying to tell you that I am stepping, I do know there is more and I am moving towards it. I am thankful for people that long for more, call for more... and wait for more. Keep calling - I'm coming, I am getting there.

Blank but not Blank

2008-08-08T08:41:00.004-05:00

The flames of inspiration are licking my brain unencumbered with pedagogic fury... NOT! I want to post today but I feel caught between lots of thoughts. I have the following topics running around in my head:

Music that God likes
Agreements I have made with Evil -things I am convinced of...
Christians, Christian Unitarians, Universal Unitarians
I am my mom's brother (not what you think!)
My Story - 0 to 10, 11 to 13, 14-17, 18 to 29, 30 to 40, 41 to now... (this would be 6 posts)

You know, Dr. Christine Browning has asked me (and Amy) to write out our stories in 4000 words or less so she can put them in a book she is writing. I am going to do it of course but it feels like there is some sort of barrier, a powerful one, that does not want me to put it down in writing... "on paper". I suspect this is because, if I write it - the agreements I have made that bind me to deeply felt, believed, and lived lies would be now utterly discernable and overt... exposed for destruction. I would be able to see them so clearly - it would then be a lucid path to much freedom as I break the agreements and send the bastards that attend to them to the foot of God's judgement throne for their final decay. Probably ought to get right on that then huh... it feels ominous.

And... just because she is sitting here observing me - here is a picture of Lucy, my bulldog:

Surrounded

2008-08-06T06:35:00.003-05:00

First of all... thank you to everyone that replied on my post yesterday. I had a huge smile on my face as I read Lib and Jamie's words - ya'll are both extraordinary women who's hearts are tender, brilliant, and really colorful. Hearing from Tracy is the word "love"... and hearing from Mark who continues to comment under his wife's alias... well that is a treat because his words are awesome - he wants a poem - hmmm. Mark, you may be (5,7,5) Haiku worthy...

Impatient man purse
Chaos flitting to and fro
Let's have coffee now...

Last night I watched Lars and the Real Girl on recommendation of Tres. It was awesome... I loved this movie and if you have not seen it - see it. If you are a superficial movie watcher - please steer clear - if you love to find movies that are made by "writers"/"artists" as Tres has a knack for, well that is just like finding a good book. This movie is one of those - it is an original idea about a delusional young man, Lars, that has a traumatic and dysfunctional past that is never really unraveled (appropriately, because it keeps you so curious), but the results are blatant and screaming. He has an extreme fear of comfort... and he moves into a delusional relationship with a mail order "love doll", Bianca. This premise is hilarious, this premise is sad. Anyhow, the writer's "what if" for this movie was, what if the little town that Lars lives in embraced and loved him in and through his delusion and pain instead of ostracized him as nuts and an outcast. It was a movie about a community that moves in... leans in, to someones screwed up messy survival tactics instead of running from them.

What touched me so much was my own community that leans into me. I have mentioned to people this "ministry" I am involved in that helps people that have been abused and watched them physically step back, lean away, widen their eyes, and grimace at those words... "people that have been abused". "Wow" they say and try to placate the moment with some plastic question that is more of a statement designed to end the conversation. I have also had occasion to mention that I was sexually abused when I was younger... and I have watched this erase all expression from peoples face and make them so uncomfortable that they find very quick ways to get away from me. I know why they do this, I know this is all about them... but I can tell you I am crying as I type this because I can also tell you it hurts to have people run from the reality of something that shaped me... it is difficult to believe it is not me they are running from, like I have a contagious stain.

AND - I have a community that has heard "I was sexually abused for 5 years..." and leans in, and their faces soften to me, and they want to hear, and they want to know. My wife joins them and she longs to hear from me and know me. They want to know what happened before, during, after, and now in my life. They embrace me in my reaction and the ways I survive - when it hurts them, they tell me, right in my face with tears longing for restoration. I love my community - thank you all and you all know who you are. Even the least of you, meaning the ones I don't know all that well but still know enough... and they lean in to me with curiosity. God loves me deeply through you all - He smiles at the whole situation I think and when we are together, color and light is everywhere from Her (I love the notion of Spirit in the feminine)... Jesus lifts my head through all of you, we walk up the hill together for a meal with wine, steaks, crab, bread, cheese... chocolate cake - and all of you. We laugh, we laugh. We cry, we enjoy... we love. I am surrounded by you all, thank you, I love you.

Poop Boy

2008-08-04T21:19:00.002-05:00

I was talking to my friend Tres today while I drank coffee and he had a "large" Green Tea... Tres refuses to use the word Venti when ordering - it is his renaissance man rebellion against Seattle coolness insisting that Venti is a better word for "large"! Anyhow, we slid into our lounger chairs next to the in-house Starbucks in G-Building of the company I work at, and Tres's first words to me are... "what is your sudden fondness for the word "shit" and "F" star, star, star, "ing"".
You see, the man with a plan had been reading my blog and was being curious where I was with my writing. Tres cares about me and the way the common rabble will use my rawness to dismiss me. He said, interrupting me as I began explaining myself and my writing, "I am not criticizing you, it's cool to have some raw nature to your writing... you also seem to be a bit hard on yourself lately, anyway, that is what editors are for".

Anyhow, this little exchange made me curious about my verbal poop. I don't need to curse to make a point for sure, -AND- the curse word is what is rolling around in my head so that is what comes out on the post. When people notice it puts me in a weird place sometimes. I feel torn between wanting to be a bit different and unfiltered because I often feel a bit different and raw (not in a cool-guy way, kind of in an off to the side with one eyebrow raised way)... and, wanting to be understood without pushing people away with "too much". I do not always edit what I write here and that is somewhat risky because I can certainly come off much more combative than I actually feel.

No biggy, i'm just writing what I was thinking about... I also had a hankering to write a poem about Tres:

I'll not give you the satisfaction
Large unsweet green tea please
-and I really did not want to say please
Venti my ass

I'll not concede
We live in America
Sizes in Italian
Venti my ass

That's so gay
Just give me the big cup
and you better not give me the mo-dome lid either...
Venti my ass

What's wrong Tres...
nothin.

The moment

2008-08-03T11:16:00.004-05:00

My friend Tegan wrote a note to me and in it he said something that has really made me think... Anything Tegan says is worth listening to because he has paid a high price to offer his words - plus he knows how to blow shit up and that is really cool! Anyhow Tegan mentioned that God is always "now". That is not a new thought for me, but the implications it poses to my escape are newly important. The past and the future don't mean anything to God because he exists outside of their boundaries. This makes everything "now" to God. Make no mistake... God invented time and it is a cool creation - it is not a limitation it is an important and interesting plane that we live in. I notice though that when I "imagine" and I drift to the left (past) and the right (future) into fantasy it feels fun and relaxing and disturbing and impossible. When my imaginations are filled with dreams I am to bleed for - God is all about that - He is all in that - Spirit is all through that - and Jesus is ready to walk with me... But my fantasy of do-overs in my past, of stupid-impossible shit in my future... well those places are as Tegan mentioned - devoid of God - He is not there.

In the places evil lures me to fantasy, the only god present... is me.

I guess all my addictions are Godless wastelands only Jesruss walks. But fantasy gives me a place to live that... is not here. It sets up everyone and everything in the here and now to be disappointing because they will always be less than I can phantasmagorically imagine. Yep, I am sure it is one of the most selfish and heinous places I go.

Try here and now Russ - God is here, Spirit moves, Jesus wants to have a Belgian Double with me... "now". Kim is here, JT, and Reyn are here... too many friends to mention that are very worth mentioning are here... what's say we join them. Hello everyone.

Defense wins ballgames

2008-07-30T07:45:00.002-05:00

I am defensive... that sucks. I was raised in an explicit, alcoholic, and devoid home. It was lonely and confusing in there. I spent vast amounts of mental athletics worrying about how, and executing the protection of what was true about my home... from everyone. Out of that grew a hyper-vigilant sense of movement to defend what I desperately longed for - the idea that I, and my home, was "normal". I remember laying in bed crying and rolling back and forth as a little boy and a middle schooler, asking God "why can't we just be normal, why does it have to be like this"... I know I felt desperate, I know I felt hopeless. AND- I would rise to defend the imagination of that plea to God - I am normal, my home is normal.

Shit...

So what does that look like now? When I was young I had to manufacture situations that would allow people to be in proximity to me and yet never discover my secrets. So today, when the agenda is to have some "experience", and that can be anything... eating dinner with Kim and my boys... if something starts to go south with what I want for the "experience" of eating dinner - more than half the time I have great difficulty just going south with the moment and enjoying the southyness of of our meal together. And understand, what my imagining is for what that dinner should be is glorious - it would be a connective, laughing, enjoyable event - but when things begin to diverge from that framework... I get edgy, people notice, I hear it as an accusation... and here comes the captain of the defense. This comes from living in my head for most of my life - I want so bad for a gloriously normal life...

So, my defensiveness ruins my ability to experience delight. The delight of God, the delight of my family, friends... and just whatever is going on around me. It is stinky. I feel sort of lost right now because this place in me is so familiar - it hadn't felt like a problem for me or anyone else... it worked. Now it feels terrible, exposed, and pathetic. I must find sorrow for that little boy and the life he protected in his mind... I must find repentance for this man that "reacts" like a leaf blown by the wind (around 60 to 75% of the time according to several peach margarita filled sources that are generally reliable)... I react to the disruption of what I imagine with defensiveness - direct logical defense, subtle humorous defense, smirky expression defense, sighing defense, silent defense, loud angry defense, your an idiot sarcastic defense... shit - I feel like a f***ing mess.

I am south of normal and for someone that longs to have places where he is extraordinarily north of the shut down, comfort zoned rabble... well the whole thing is quite disruptive.

Jesus let me see it today, let me feel the delight of the Spirit and the smile of each moment. Expose this evil and I will defy its accusation as I love and live today. I am so sorry for this place that I have not rested in You - I am sorry I left that little boy alone with his dreams - help me love him back to extraordinary.

RWFCPBPTNRW

2008-07-22T06:37:00.003-05:00

That acronym stands for Recovery Week For Children Protected By Parents That Need Recovery Week... We were yapping about this up in Seattle. We posed the question - "What do you do? How do you keep your children from the fate of abuse?". We were all talking about what we "won't" let our kids do when it comes to "spending the night places", "babysitters", "scouts", etc... We saw how careful and defensive we were to "protect" our children - evil had us all "tense" and anticipating its ruin of our kids. All words that sound responsible in many ways huh... What if we used these words instead. Instead of careful and defensive, what if in our love and responsibility, honor, dignity, and glory - what if we were full-of-care and delight FOR our children and their adventure with God. Where did we start believing that we were our children's only hope for safety - AND - yes, we are not to be reckless in "abandoning" them to danger.

So, we came to... PROTECT - Yes, absolutely - and, do NOT put your children in the prison of your paranoia, keeping them from life and relationships God intends them to have. That prison can look like your constant presence, no summer camps, no scouts, no youth group, your hovering - choking - life draining defensive tension where evil has you expecting it around every corner. It wins when it has your full attention and belief that you are the only thing that stands between you and your kids.

Another very difficult thing we talked about was this... Our children will find their OWN faith. What will God "allow" in their life that will be awful - that will be for them, will build their faith, require them to look to only Him - and will be awful. Our kids will have a "Story" (a quoted kind of story) and we will not be the only ones that have inflicted damage to them there. When will it happen, what will happen... will it be when they are very young and they will grapple with it as adults - and find the face of God later - will it be horror, will it be subtle, will it be both... the only thing we can probably know is - God will find them and their life will be far from painless.

All the places we lovingly provide for them, joyfully protect them, and take them... and LET them adventure - all good. I do not want to put JT and Reyn in the prison of my fears - I have already in many ways - JT is sick of me asking if "anything weird" happened whenever he sleeps over somewhere - and he knows good and well what weird means because I have prepped him unto fear... yep, some healthy, some not. And you find yourself thinking - "I'd rather err on the side of over protection than to..." - really? Nothing is simple, I hope I can err on the side of a love-full life - I am understanding this is my families, my, only "defense".

Randomness

2008-07-21T06:25:00.004-05:00

Here are some thoughts...

IN BETWEEN - My 9 year old went into our bedroom last night about 10:00 and snuggled up next to his mom who went to bed about 10 minutes before that. What this means is - options will be presented to me when I get tired enough to venture to bed. He will be sound asleep next to his mom in 5 minutes. So... He is big enough now, and squirmy enough as a sleeper that he will be touching me all night long - he will put his legs on me, bump me with his knees, he has even hit me in the face with the back of his hand. He will be in between Kim and I... so there will be no privacy, no sidling up next to my wife and sleeping next to her which is our most comfortable way to sleep. There will certainly be no pursuit of the symbolism that represents the joy associated with the union with God which culminates in... well, you know. Choices, I can pick him up and carry him to bed - not good for the back - and I have to go get his bed in condition for sleeping before I take him. I can shake him, talk real loud to wake him, and walk him to his bed under sleepy protest and this can become more of a process than an event - too much time, and I am tired dadgumit. I can just get angry and tell him to go sleep in his own bed leaving both of us upset... or, I can slip into bed, tell him to scoot over enough to make room for me, then pull him next to me and pat him on the chest with my arm around him as he says "love you daddy" with a sleepy voice as he remains "in-between" Kim and I all night. I figure, this is one night, he does not do this too often and he won't do it as he gets to be around 11 at all. It leaves us all in good places, he experiences love, affection, and a feeling of complete safety from both Kim and I that will "shape" him for good and who God created him to be. I obviously chose to let him stay. I thought I won't "get" to do this much longer - I love my little boy.

IN MY HEAD - I have way too many conversations in my head. My wife feels left out, huh, imagine that... how selfish of her to want me to have those conversations out loud, good grief what does she think we are married or something! The biggest problem with conversations in your head is - well sometimes you make decisions during those conversations and later you act on those decisions. If you are dysfunctional enough, and the decision is big enough, you will have lots and lots in your head working out all the details - without speaking to anyone. You see later, after you have acted on your decision, and your wife is asking "when the hell did we decide that, we never talked about that", AND defensive feelings start arising because you are sure there was lots of "conversation" about this decision... (then you realize they were mostly in your head)... Well, this pattern will lead to periods of emotion between the two of us that are awful and draining and story triggers start getting fired off at alarming rates. Kim retreats and I control (I usually start cleaning the house)... This all happened this weekend and when we were talking about it the next morning she was laughing because she could tell her ladies small group a great way to get their house cleaned! The only person I had to talk to when I was little... was myself. I have lots of people to talk to now that I am big, and I still find myself to be the safest place for my words. Small steps... small steps.

TEMPTING FATE? I went and picked up my son from youth group yesterday on the motorcycle. We both had our helmets but we had shorts and t-shirts on... This can be viewed as very bad. But it was Sunday evening, no one was out and about, there was no traffic, I went on back roads, I never went over 30 mph... When JT and I pulled up my friend Tres was outside the front of my house on his motorcycle talking to my wife. Tres, a recent rabid graduate of the Motorcycle Safety Course had his jacket, jeans, riding boots, gloves, and helmet on... I pull up in my shorts and T-Shirt with Jacob on the back with a big smile in HIS shorts and T-Shirt. Tres in his Tres way of course did not say a thing to me... he raddled off 3 quick skin pealing, just-around-the-block motorcycle death short-stories to my wife before I was stopped and off my bike of course (working the angle so that I would hear about it later). The air was thick with his disapproval of my reckless behavior. I agree, it was reckless... in my mind, it was reckless to an extent I was o.k. with - the ride was awesome and JT was thrilled to be picked up on the FZ6 in front of his friends in Youth. Tres really was right though... I probably won't do that again...

I made awesome fish last night... it was fresh salt water trout and I rubbed it with spices, put it on a sheet of foil, put tomatoes, onions and lots of cholesterol free butter on it, and put it out on the grill. It was awesome! We had spicy bloody mary's with it, the boys got wasted... just kidding! I can make this meal for our friends sometime now! Who wants to come over?

I'm freakin Batman

2008-07-18T22:33:00.005-05:00

Just one look at my new motorcycle, the in-line 4, 600cc, Yamaha FZ6... and even the most reserved-risk-averse-conservatives among you have to admit... that's a cool bike. I was showing a picture of it to a guy at work and as he leaned forward to look more closely at the picture on my screen... under his breath he said "shit, that's a bat-bike". In my head I thought "damn right it is..."

Me buying a motorcycle brings out some very interesting dynamics with people. Every wus I encounter feels an unquenchable need to smirk at me like I am an irresponsible, childish idiot... they are absolutely certain they are looking at a soon to be dead or brain damaged testosterone addicted dumb-ass. None of them have ever ridden a motorcycle because their mommies wouldn't hear of it and their Lilly white, marshmallow bellied fathers would just laugh at the very thought of something so risky. They have all told me stories about "people they know" or knew, that died on motorcycles. Every story was from high school, the person they knew was drunk and going 137mph around a corner at 3 a.m. and decapitated themselves on the guardrail... I personally think it will be pretty simple to avoid that certain calamity.
People that already have bikes... well they just not their head with a smile and say, "awesome", and they walk off pleased that another has been added to their fraternity.
People that want bikes engage me in long conversations about the mental process I went through to actually go through with the purchase. They want every detail as they refine the argument they will present to their wives... I give them hope for their testicles.
There is my community... they just smile at me and say "be careful on that thing" - happy for the wildness of the adventure - appropriate concern for my health all laced with trust - very cool.
Finally, my family. My boys are ecstatic - they love it, want to ride it and both long for the age of 15 when they are certain that they will get their motorcycle licenses and I will buy them a street bike... They both already have dirt bikes. My wife... well that is gut wrenching. She is all for it, and she does not want to loose her husband she loves to an accident - and she is all for it. I do not want her to fear, but it feels good to experience her desire not to loose me. I bought her a scooter to drive to work - I know how she feels. I love for her to put on her Nazi helmet, Scorpion Jacket, and Joe Rocket gloves and toot around on her scooter with freedom and a smile - and I have thoughts where she is laying in the road as a victim of a careless driver. The freedom and the wind she experiences win over my thoughts every time.

So... I am taking a risk. I have a motorcycle now - it scares me -and- it feels alive... Batman on his Batbike, do I have to get pierced or tattooed now?

Why?

2008-07-16T07:03:00.004-05:00

Well Crap... this really beautiful 19 year old young woman wrote a blog post... which spurred her mama to write a post... which now has me asking the same questions - I can't write about anything else until I answer it here. Katy's post was all about loving your life rather than just living it. Shieza (is that how you spell "shit" in German?), I was just getting used to learning how to live life instead of just surviving it - then beauty comes along and raises the bar - you mean after we get busy living... we... I, can love my life. I can tell you it took me quite a while to type those last 3 words.
I have definitely been into appreciating the amazingness of creation all around me - not just nature either - I marvel at electronics, glass, bodily functions (pooping in particular), buildings, cars, and certainly nature... it is all awesome. There is no "man-made" label in the economy of creation. God made it all and I think He just has a massive smile about the intricate coolness of some of the things we have invented to live in His creation. He created the creativity to invent in all of the inventors, and we used His creation, to further His creation, through creativity... It is just absolutely worth appreciating. When I find myself caught up in appreciation, awe, and gratitude laced with marveling... I feel closer to standing next to God smiling - You know how that is, when you are with "stop and smell the roses" people that have a pace of gratitude to them. They help you notice beauty that you hadn't previously observed or at least slowed down enough to have it not be all blurry - I just sometimes feel like I am standing next to Jesus and He is happy I am noticing stuff that thrills Him. So... when I am living with this kind of youthful agedness - I get a sense of "loving" life - I just think I have a hard time putting the "my" in that trinity of words.

LOVE, MY, LIFE...

That will be a walk for me to be sure. My wife, my boys, they give me reasons - my friends, my community, my hero's, they give me reasons - my job, the people there, the money that lets me go see more creation, that's all good... I have all the makings to love my life I think - I still need to learn to receive comfort from God though... no, not need and not learn... I long to surrender into God's intention - to receive comfort - to rest...

Now to something I do love... writing, I love to write and I love to have people read what I write and I love for it to mean something - whether it is inspiring, challenging, or just makes me and others laugh - I especially love to create the opportunity for laughter - and yes you can find me laughing at my own writing. Is that arrogance when I crack myself up or am I just rehearsing for y'all? Anyhow, Katy's mom wrote a whole post on why she keeps a BLOG... so "Why?" I ask, do I BLOG - there are many deep, several shallow, and 6.3 sinful reasons but mostly I am now thinking, it moves me one step, two "small" steps closer to my dreams - I love my life in those dreams. Thanks Katy.

What do they need...

2008-07-14T07:08:00.005-05:00

As I try to get over the fact that only 1 person commented on my Updation Post... I enjoyed writing that one, at least Katy the Beautiful commented on it - I think I could live well if she were the only person reading me! I can't figure out if my desire for feedback on my writing is pathetic insecurity - or fabulous desire... somewhere in between somewhat of both I suspect.

Anywho... I went to church yesterday - miracle of miracles - but Mark was preaching so there was no need to try and stomach Roger and his most excellent little "c"-christian behavior. It was cool to hear Mark preach it like a bro and dance softly around things the "flock" has a hard time hearing... hey, am I in that "flock"? I put it in quotes like I am sooo above being in a flock... and I am not. I sat there next to the Singing "B" and her hubMan-of-cool and I looked around. Probably about 500 in that "flock" were in attendance and I found myself in an interesting place. Often, when I sit in church - I view it as - there is me, there are a few others that "understand" - and then there is the pathetic, plastic "flock" that just love the shit out of what is going on in church. That is my judgement, when I do that I look around me with contempt and it gives me an excuse to not be present with my heart and to feel cool and melted in to my warm bath of superior enlightened entente of what "real" church is. I am so full of crap, so arrogant. SO, this time I looked around and as I felt the K-Y waft of my own separatist awesomeness coming on... I quelled it - I put my foot on the neck of evil and I looked around purposing to try something that was suggested to me. Instead of judgement, replace it with curiosity... I looked around at everyone and I said to myself, "what does it mean for me to be curious about each one of them?"
Well crap-o-licious... Instead of the surge of energy I get from my contempt I felt a settling of sadness - I grabbed my handy dandy church bulletin and midget pencil - which I f***ing hate by the way - and I wrote "what do they need...". I could not let that question sit because it demanded that I have an answer - I was kind there - I was sad. I thought of more questions that helped me find an answer / listen to the quiet... I wondered - what does Jesus want for them, where would Jesus "lead" them. That is when I had one of those rare moments when you know you have heard from Him... because the obvious answer is not what came to me - what I heard was "I would lead them to each other... Yes they need Me, and they will find Me living in each other, in deep, rich places in their hearts". I looked across all of those people and I thought about all of the amazing, painful, wonderful, awful, awe-full stories of every face in that room. What if we were ALL engaged in loving each other in story, in community... doing everything we could to truly know each other. I tell you that would be a wonderful place, a place no one could stay away from, a place sooo filling - so filled with the Jesus... that place would feel amazing.
I know places like this, small pockets, it is not enough. We ALL need it, we all need each other - we need relationships to love each other within so we can see Him... it makes being alone a place of longing, a place where we see the faces of love and... again we see Him.

Well that is how Sunday Morning went for me, it was cool, it was sad - I hope people will imagine that with me - then we can bleed for it.

Updation

2008-07-11T07:38:00.002-05:00

One of the women that works for me was doing a presentation the other day in front of about 150 people and she was nervous... she had a sentence in there where a new word was invented "...and it will facilitate the creation and updation of test assets..." - I caught it immediately of course and we have been the nation of updation ever since, we do updation, stay updationary, exhibit updationality, and we blog with updationalistic fortitude... so here is my blog updation:

Yesterday driving home I was listening to The Bible Answer Man (Hank Hanegraaff w/ Elliot Miller). Now, I have tremendous respect for apologists and it is cool that Christianity can offer up an alternative voice of brilliance when atheists get a public platform. I love the science of history, biology, archeology, etc. when it is premised with a Christ centered world view. Hank and Elliot are absolutely brilliant apologists and my love for them makes me "want" to believe everything they say... -AND- I really believe they are dead wrong on stuff every now and then - it is frustrating... it probably means, dare I say it, that I... yes me... I am dead wrong every now and then - DON'T YOU BELIEVE IT - I kick ass and you can take my ideas to the bank baby!... well 99.3% of the time - and the .7 chance of malefaction is only after drinking excessive testosterone draining strawberry margaritas - they are quit delish and disorienting, made with fresh strawberries none the less, but this pink concoction will cause a man's cucumber and tomatoes shrivel back to peas and a baby carrot faster than a boat ride to a bath house in a huffy! I'm telling you beware - of course, F-Stick loves them...
Anyhow, back to Hank - he was dogging Yoga yesterday (and I have never done even 8 seconds of Yoga in my life unless it was by accident from a failed contortion following a Richard Simmons Sweatin to the Oldies video)... but he and Mr. Miller were just aghast that Christian Churches had exercise groups that replaced the Eastern Mysticism associated with Yoga with a Christian hermeneutic and everyone loved it... They were about to drop a brick over how awful and impossible that was - they were especially hung up over the word "meditation" and how Hinduism defines it when it is used in Yoga... give me a damn break, Christ followers can freakin meditate with a focus on a scripture, or listening to the voice of Jesus, etc. etc... just because someone is meditating does not mean they are focused on emptying themselves of all thought and joining the Divine in becoming God - I was just beside myself at how badly they wanted a topic for the Christian Research Journal and the lengths they were willing to reach to defend this ridiculous premise. It makes me want to go hurt myself with a gaggle of Christian Yoga crazed 60 somethings in the activities room of the Baptist Church down the road right now... shit!

Also, Mr. Hank agrees with Mark Driscol (a woman hating mook from Seattle pastoring the highly dysfunctional Mar's Hill Church), he agrees with Driscol that the book, The Shack, is to be avoided for it's misconception about the nature of God. Hanegraaff did not read the book but read the highlights from someone Else's printed opinion, regardless, his points were weak, refutable, and bordering on irresponsible untruth. I take The Shack for what it is - an experience that sparked in me a love for God I have not felt in quite a while. It broke some of my pathetic judgmentalism and helped me look at the world and all those in it with a different set of eyes - with the smile of God on all his creation - even in his grief over our choices and joining with evil - he loves, loves, loves us... That book obliterated the picture I had irrevocably lodged in my brain of Jesus with his arms crossed, shaking his head with a look of disappointment in me - it is gone now - I love the idea of the Father, Jesus, and the Spirit being near me, in me, around and through me... I love the idea of communing with them and relating to others in a community of Christ loving fullness. That book, regardless of the people it terrifies as it rocks their brittle dogmatism, it changed my perspective - my gaze is at Jesus now, not the floor. By the way "those people", with brittle dogmatism, do not be surprised when they are people you respect greatly and maybe even love - The Shack will shake up your bricks a little bit... I HIGHLY recommend it for Christians that love church to be more about relationships in community and less about what it is on Sunday mornings.

Round and Round

2008-07-08T07:11:00.006-05:00

I was looking back at my journal this morning... about a year ago, my then new pastor had just added a new "feature" to his sermons - the opening Joke. Oh the joy - I love to hear whatever is next from openingsermonjokes.com... it was boring and predictable - this is what church looks like - it is o.k. but is "o.k." all that is to be hoped for? I was thinking about the metaphor of the cycle of monotonous addictive death. A merry-go-round... we stay on it, we can see the other rides around us and they look great, they look fun, they are certainly more exciting because people are screaming with fear and joy on them. But they just feel like work to often. We do occasionally go ride one but only the one's in the immediate vicinity of the merry-go-round, so comfortable. But hey, this merry-go-round, WOW... it is alluring, beautiful, crafty, nostalgic, and holy crap... that accordion music rocks - whoever that is, is really talented... BORING - it is boring - when will it get boring enough to get off?
On it are horses of all forms - we ride different ones but we certainly have our favorites. Horses named TV, church, good behavior, food, porn, work, masturbation, house, money, sleep, solitaire, Internet, blogging, email, reading, shopping... name it - naming is so important. Naming hardens the truth and stirs the enemy of our soul. I just ride and ride, round and round. My back slumps on that ride - there are people I love that I get to wave to as I go by - all that sitting around, I have given God's Spirit 60 pounds of shame She has to wade through to get to what She created. Sixty pounds of self-contempt - the exercise / hope required to create beauty is not on that merry-go-round. You know I really love roller-coasters, they get your heart beating, it's a walk to get over there but I can see it - wanna come with me?

Shit, this post reads like one of Rogers sermons - ugh! Sorry for that - my heart is in there somewhere - I think I feel like creating some beauty today, in me, with others... I want the patience to walk that path - I want the energy to jog that path - and I want the hope to run it.

Run Forrest Run

No Post today...

2008-07-07T08:19:00.002-05:00

Today I am not posting because there is simply no time to post, just no time I tell you. This was the day I was supposed to get back to "normal" after 2 disruptive weeks! Well, last night I took my boys and Courtney (neighbors daughter) to the 10:00 o'clock viewing of Get Smart and it did not end until 12:15 a.m... Well there went the up at 5:00, read, journal, blog, have some coffee, listen to God, and skim through the sports page. All I had time for was Pee, take our English bulldog Lucy out to Pee, shave, teeth, shower, poop, and click off this quick one just for consistency sake!

I was up at 7:05 and I am off to Caffieaggio for a really good medium breakfast blend to go... and then on to the care and feeding of my 17 person Application Development Environment team at work - I am their rather unconventional manager looking to find ways to tell them all that I see in them. Anyhow - I feel good today and I think all the people that love me and Pray for me have done a good thing for me - I want to do for them... I want to get like 20 adjoining balcony suites on a cruise ship and sail down to have some Corona's on a private beach in Cozumel, lobster, wine, dancing - I would do that for ALL of you... maybe one day... maybe one day.

My glass is 1/2 empty

2008-07-06T09:02:00.002-05:00

Optimists say... "That Glass is 1/2 full!" (they cock their head to the right and show their straight, white teeth when they hit 'full')... But what if the glass has poop in it? - I think then it is more optimistic to observe "Hey, my glass of poop is 1/2 empty!". Thanks Demitri.

Anyhow - last night we had some gift certificates to Morton's Steak house and we went with some friends that understand community... I was able to share some of the thoughts rolling around inside of me about who I am now. One thing I noticed was that when I share what I really experienced last week... it comes with tears and stuff - so maybe it was helpful to wait for excellent food, great wine, and an evening with dear friends to cast some pearls. When Kim and I got home we had a whole night without children to be together... there were many more tears - Kim was very kind to me in them and we were able to pray through some more lies that I have hung on to for a very long time. So it was a good (the rich kind of good) night with friends I love, with my wife I love, and with the Lord who makes me lighter.

It is an interesting feeling when you "break agreements" you have with evil - to me, every time I have done it I have a physical sensation of being lighter, and being able to breath - I think evil sits on your chest, maybe that is what it means that it "binds" you and the breaking lets you breath new air. Breaking agreements is really intense - in community, you have to go to the place in your story where you made the agreement and those places always suck. In my case some of the places and agreements are obvious and even feel blatant... like why would I believe 2+2=5 kind of blatant - I get something from the lies, they serve me and I use them - it is a union from hell - Lord forgive me. Other agreements though, are guarded closely by the hoard that attends them, you can go right up to the scenes and be so close - only a patient, persistent community, the Spirit, and your surrender will allow you to see. I have been there and I have surrendered. Breaking the agreements you make in those moments is an act of repentance and invitation to lift your head - it seems there is a party waiting.
I miss my men - Ken, Bob, Brian, Josh, Chris, Tegan... not Mark - he's a persistent presence, be it with a man-purse, but always near and awesome none the less. I miss Nathan, and Dan, and Jill... we all went on quite an adventure -AND- I love the community I do have to move within - it feels good to have people I care enough about to miss, it feels good to have people here I care enough about to bleed for (we are still negotiating on whether I would die for them or not, I'm gonna need some more perks for that kind of selflessness I think!) .

So, onward, another day in pre-paradise and hey, look, my glass of poop is half empty now!...

Alone

2008-07-05T11:34:00.002-05:00

After a week without Blogging... I wrote in the "muddled" blog before I left for the Recovery Week conference that the last time I came back I was all "out there" and shocking, and, well, I was a lot... let's just put it that way. Well this time I am back and I feel like that again, only I have not really talked to anyone about my week in Seattle. Not only have I not really had more than a 1.3 minute conversation about the weather or landscape up there - not a single person has even asked me once how I am doing, or what happened to me this time. I don't quite know how to feel about that. Here are some of the things that run through my head about it:

I set myself up for it because I usually offer without being asked...? Could be
Last year I was all over everyone with it - people in my community are shy to deal with my danger and weirdness? Probably
Evil is crushing me right now? For sure
When I think about opening my mouth what I have to say feels so overwhelming to the context of the conversation I am in... I don't seem to fit? This feels true
Every sentence in my brain has the word "evil" in it, this makes me feel odd, stupid, boring, and like people will think I just got back from an idiot rally with Benny Hinn? Yep
I have dipped my toe in the waters of sharing and it has not gone so well... I responded to a bog entry a friend of mine wrote and it just left her confused and us in disagreement- it pushed my "your observations are stupid" button for some reason... I am fragile? disgusting
I have only been back 5 days now... I need to just marinate a little longer - works for meat? Works for me

So do you hear the accusations and lies in my list, see how I am divided from myself - it's the "e" word... pisses me off.

Kim and I are going to Morton's tonight with some close friends - it will be an evening with a lot of possibility - we'll see how I do.

RWII - Day 7... Leaving

2008-06-30T08:25:00.002-05:00

Well... it is all over, and it begins. When I was finally done taking notes on Sunday morning after Dan finished talking, I started to write The End only to catch myself in the realization that it was really a moment of beginning... So I wrote, It Begins! The morning was spent eating a really good breakfast that Jill made for us, laughing, and preparing our hearts to say goodbye. We did get an opportunity to tell Jill how much we appreciated her and somewhere mixed in with laughter and tears, I did manage to get her to anoint me with not one, but a double middle finger salute of endearment! That may have something to do with every one's need to remind her that I called her a "serving wench" and once popped of a "where's my f***ing desert?" (playing playfully with her mind you!) at random points in the week that required levity! The bottom line is that Jill was wonderful, and now it is good that she knows how much she is loved and will always be treasured.
We went downstairs to hear Dan's parting thoughts and they were sobering. What is surely lurking, organizing, whispering and executing to destroy us will redouble it's efforts now. We made tremendous progress in this slice of our lives and we rest in the hands of our comforter - surprised by little that would come our way from the pit. After Dan talked we had 3 men break agreements with evil, wash their hearts in tearful repentance, and look up from their prayers lighter... with a new place of story to tell - only this story is colored with the face of Jesus. In the pictures (when I get them uploaded) you will see one of a blue Colorado Rockies chair - that chair has had some amazing moments - it is the throne of brokenness that leads to joy. We would sit in that chair to deal with the devil, and run to our savior... Dan took it home.
Words are failing me to describe all that occurred in our hearts this past week. Intense battle in the arms of beauty... we were broken and sorrowful, we were surrounded by God's stunning landscape... we loved, and were loved - well.

Onward men, hope beckons...

And just so you know, Mark and I made it home after 3 legs and 7 hours of plane time. Several of the flight attendants (all female) were enamoured with Marks pastel blue shirt and metro-hip shoes... I was struggling to quell my guttural rumblings with all the compliments - until sweet redemption was mine. The last human being to appreciate Marks "look" was a transgendered homosexual that snuggled into the seat next to him to engage conversation from Phoenix to San Antonio. I was laughing, inside, trying to abate judgement... Mark actually maintained his masculinity though and dealt with the confused young lad well - it was just evil trying to trip us up - no biggy.

(I will get the last day pictures up as soon as I can... I think I left my camera sync cable up there, it must have been mixed up in my bed somewhere, I will try to buy a new one today)

RWII - Day 6

2008-06-29T07:54:00.005-05:00

Well, Day 6 is the final dance - the final lecture, group, and one on one. All of which were very good. It is also a day where you start to feel your body pull away, to distance your heart from the ache of leaving those you have grown so close to. This is a phenomenon of soldiers that have been in battle together.
We ate dinner together and then headed downstairs to say our final thoughts and share communion with one another. That is always, and was this time, a group of really amazing moments. Communion is done by turning to your brother on your right, blessing him with whatever words you have for him, tearing a piece of bread off the loaf, dipping it in wine, and offering it to him for consumption. It was going absolutely beautifully, I had the privilege of offering communion for Ken, my roommate. I gave him words, the whole room was very serious, teary, and somber as you can imagine, I then began to tear the bread for dipping - and Ken says... "no crust please!"... it cracked everyone up - he says shit like that all the time. Everyday when he uses my computer to check his email he asks, "mind if I surf some porn?", I will miss him.
At this gathering, we have an opportunity to say whatever we want about our experience... I wrote something for everyone and all the words that follow are the words I shared. Dan, made me give my computer to him after I read so others could give me some words - Dan typed them in and added his own... that was cool for me. Here is what I/we wrote:

Men as we leave I wanted to again write us something to transition and remember... I remember what I wrote last year and it surrounded the thoughts of imagining a scene for the battle, it was picturesque but still, only imagination.
This year feels much less imaginative, we have had our eyes opened to living in the surrounding awareness and reality of clever, organized, and lurking evil that wishes our destruction. The live fire battle training is closing, the war is waiting.

We all have roles in this place...Our guides:

Andy - the master Sergent that pushes the heart to blossom - the one that belongs, and a now proven marine, battle hardened and joined grace to lead his men to life.

Nathan - a special ops warrior that infiltrates the depths of the enemies lair - he slips in when they are unaware, they wheel around when he is sensed and keeping their eyes on him, beginning to maneuver you can hear one of the big ones whisper... "ohh shit"... the light from Nathans sword begins to shine like the sun - fierce, tender warrior...

Dan - the legitimate hero - one who's patience, kindness, and relentless wild pursuit has led us to the brokenness of life-giving joy... simple gratitude for this guide of God feels to small, Dan, you facilitate life offered through grace and it is your most excellent servant hood to the King, that has let us again hear the voice of Jesus, see his smile, and feel his delight... thank you my friend - you are loved. p.s. thank you for the absolutely delicious feast of words that brought us mental orgasms of perspicacious fun (at least for me anyway!).

The men:
Brian - the one that is now with us, he gives us his smile, we feed off of the enjoyment of his strength

Ken - he is committed to furious chaos now, his rooms are a fucking mess and evil has been disrupted

Mark - he is the one who struggles well, as he grabs violently onto the tail of hope to never let go, he is loyal and fun, brilliant and kind... he makes a great best friend if you need an example

Chris - leading us down the hill and across the field in an early morning attack on the enemies forward positions - his sword is stained with evils blood and his fierce commitment to fight for his and all of our lives makes him an inspiration

Tegan the mighty - he's the one that blows shit up... he is an AMG-84 harpoon missile of the first order who's heart hears God's voice clearly. Tegan stands unique in the kingdom and shines as proof that God is the great redeemer.

Bob - his voice calls us to laughter and tears, he will be the one we hear when our hearts need energy to war - Bob is a wounded warrior that wields a skilled, true sword - he will not be without us, ever.

Josh - the experience, he is the one that absorbs our pain and gives it back as a sweet fragrance for life. Josh will be visiting his dreams soon and joining men in community for the good of life - ours and his - Josh, you have touched us deeply

Russ from Bob: You rushed the fields for me. I couldn't have done without your example. Your honesty, and lack of shame, and joy... enables courage. You are a glorious man.

Russ from Dan: You are a man who will never settle to hear the pleasure or the sufferings from the other side of the wall and your courage is that you will enter rooms of heartache and you will offer and speak the truth in a way that is kind, and full of a playful brilliance that invites the heart to life.

Russ from Mark: There is no precipice to high that you wont jump.....I hear you say "No matter what, I will come back for you."

Russ from Chris: I can only charge fast and furious because you have my back. I get to turn to come back and fellowship with you and I love it. You make the fight so much more fun.

Russ from Ken: If Chris is the man in front leading the charge up the hill, then for reasons too innumerable to mention here, how appropriate that Russ is the "ass-man." We find him at the back of the group, bringing up the rear, covering our asses. He's at the back not because he shrinks from battle--anyone who sits close to him sees his scars from many tours of duty. Instead, Russ is at the back to compel us forward repeating the war cry that banishes evil: "F*** Satan. To hell with evil!" --and to call us into the fight when one of us gets afraid and is tempted to retreat. Russ is decorated with medals--which are his tears--and as an honorable veteran he does not parade them around in front of just anyone, but he shows them to worthy warriors in a way that invites, entices, and compels them to desire and seek their own tears on the field of battle.

The week provided a plethora of colorful new words / phrases and mental imagery we will leave with:
Sadistic Chefs approaching the lobster tank...
Ken and I spooning for afternoon naps...
"Vomiting your confessions"...
"Productive Masturbation"...
"Bitch oriented Gays...Were MEN, sexually abused but very straight, married, heterosexual MEN - you got a f***ing problem with that Popeye!"
Small to medium sized animals lodged in ones colon...
"How can you smell the fragrance of his delight when the flatulence of your defensiveness overwhelms the room"...

Or how about Josh and Tegan venturing slowly out into the water to dunk themselves in the lake... Wasn't it cold? We asked Josh, "oh the gear were up and tucked into the well I can assure you" was his response. In our group we told this story and Dan asked "Imagine if the penis could talk, what would it say as the water rose?". We all chimed in "what in the holy hell are you thinking", "back up, back up immediately!", then Tegan offered the closer "after All I have done for you!"... Dan was certain he had now found a new banner for all future Recovery Weeks!

We even have 2 of our crew that are contemplating a late afternoon huffy boat ride at a soothing 3.7mph over to frolic in a field of clover wearing nothing but pastel speedo's...

Great food
Great fun
Great laughter
Great sorrow
Great brokenness
Great joy

No regret
No judgement

Bloody Dreaming

Here's to Dreaming Big and Living Small

I love you all...

RWII - Day 5

2008-06-28T08:23:00.004-05:00

More new pics at the end: http://picasaweb.google.com/russ.engelhardt/RecoveryWeekII02

This day will probably not be documented with much volume... it was, I think, the hardest day yet and to top it off - we stayed up until 1:00 a.m. attending to 4 more stories of peril, chaos, and evils attempt to distort the face of the innocent. It was a very rich time - and - it was draining after a long day of bloody dreaming. I just have to say, on our schedules for Friday the last 2 entries read 5:30 - Dinner, and then - FREE TIME! What in the ass filled world are we thinking. We could choose anything, movies, cards... we chose stories, we chose nobility but that is one punishing roller-coaster.
The time with Dan was described by - "That was like an Indiana Jones movie", and "That was like James Bond"... it was an introduction to the darkness of our enemy and the "reality" of it's presence, its whispers, and its patient, organized, relentless pursuit. We have agreements, contracts to break with our clever and foul enemy - he will not fight with any approximation to fairness. It really sounds laborious, the idea of breaking a contract - it is always time consuming and filled with details that make you pay... however - the court is heavily skewed in our favor. You see, as creation would have it... it turns out that our defense attorney is in really tight with the Judge. The tough part is just finding the agreements to destroy - that requires digging deeply into our scenes.

A great weight was taken off of my shoulders yesterday when I entered the scene of that 8 year old little boy and found the moment that I lost everything as I heard my parents in the next room... I experienced the profound loss, aloneness and terror in a deep way - evil was attending to that moment and stroked my little 8 year old hair giving me options for survival. It was a life giving moment for me as evil was seen and lifted. A good moment for my heart.

I must divert to an aside here to caveat briefly about digestive process. I pondered yesterdays thoughts for this blog while evacuating my bowels this morning... Dan would say I was "in the act of production!" I always wonder why I do some of my best thinking while in the potty. It must be the posture of surrender that one is bound to during this time, we are really very vulnerable here if you really think about it! The other day I was a bit worried because Chris was almost certain a small to medium sized animal had died in his large intestine and was slowly making its way towards burial. I think he is o.k. now but he has been slapping odoriferous effluvium's off nearly every chair in the house with raucous pride and childlike amazement... "I've never had this much gas in my LIFE, this is wild!" he proclaims... we are all very happy for him.

Anyhow, Day 5 was very hard, very deep, very rewarding - we are better, we are different yet again.

RWII - Day 4

2008-06-27T08:04:00.004-05:00

New pics added: http://picasaweb.google.com/russ.engelhardt/RecoveryWeekII02

What a day this Day 4 was. It exhausted me to be sure. After breakfast, w/ cafienated coffee I might add, Ken's amazing wife can rest in relief that he has not been blugeoned to death by abused men with headaches that have been disentangled for 3 days by calm voiced, counseling sadists! But after breakfast the 3 kings of cruel compassion arrived and we were back downstairs.
We asked Dan about how he would differentiate Regret from Grief before we got into the meat. Two pages of notes later he worked us through the idea that you regret when you join evil's accusation (regret is laced with contempt) and you grieve when you sorrowfully groan unto beauty. Regret says "your a F***-up", Grief say's "How could you have known...". AND - Dan started to lay the foundations of opportunity. Just like Grief is the kind path, i.e. regret always leads to the opportunity for grief. Along those lines he ended his answer by saying "it's like... productive masterbation... can you be kind, even in the dark chasm of sabatoge, what is His comfort to your sabatoge of Hope - there is no contempt with Gods comfort, no mockery". We laughed heartily over that one but loved the truth of it also.
The real topics of the day were elaborations on the 3 names, thus modes, and thus assaultive schemes that evil bears. Satan - the accuser, Diablolos - the divider, and Angel of Deciete - the liar. Accusation comes from Satan over our secrets, our aces, if you knew this about me... you would not want relationship w/ me. Divulgence in safe relationship breaks the power of accusation. In this place "blurting" is not good, it is vomiting out the truth in contempt, i.e. divulgence without honor. I thought this was cool. Division was about being divided from others (duh) but also being divided from ourselves, who we were created to be, i.e. divided from our dignity. Very cool stuff. Lastly, and most impactfully the Liar. Lies are all about the language we use around the truth. They become structures we can live with, rules that govern reality. "mothers do not sexually abuse thier children...". All in all, a great learning time with Dan.
I met w/ Nathan and we examined my self-deceptions surrounding my home. I left that 8 year old little boy alone... he is just sitting on the bunkbed, and he is really confused and afraid... and I just left him there and joined my accuser equating love, and normal - w/ sexuality, chaos, and contempt. It sort of hushed me for the day. Group was just brutal also. Josh walked through a scene with such courageous groaning - it was awe-full, Dan was so direct, so kind and masterful to walk him back to the hand of God's comfort... God spoke to Josh, he will be going back home to some dreams - awesome. Ken was next, he cleaned up the room he took us to while he described what was in it... very tough, very brave, and - Ken is ready to get f***ing dirty now.
Last of the day... the Preambulation. Dan prepared an outting for us. We opened the secret envelope and learned we were going by boat to a steak dinner. Fantastic but just a tad bit ambivalent... We got to the place and as we were all gathered around, the crusty voiced heterosexual running the place looked around at us... I think pausing on one of our rank's choice of pastel for a sweater, raised an eyebrow and asked gruffly "You boys from Seattle?". It was all we could do to keep from manning up and screaming back - were MEN, sexually abused but very straight, married, heterosexual MEN - you got a f***ing problem with that Popeye! The boat was clean, new, equipped, comfortable to be sure... but it was a little electric "barge" if you will, a cute little boaty-boat with a blue canopy covering it. With 8 men in it we could not even manage to create a wake when we reached our top speed of 3.7 mph. Topping that it had a little flag on the front that said "Huffy" on it. Oh, now all that is just peachy... if you are a pod of 8 bitch oriented gays tooteling off to the bath house. Ignoring the accusation we all had in our minds... we made lemonade out of lemons here and we were kind to our little Huffy. We tootled over to a dock over a bottle of red wine, tied up, and went to a resturant to consume steaks and wine and great conversation and laughter... it was fantastic. After arriving back home it was around 10 and no one stayed concious much longer - a tough day, draining, but amazing as well - I love being here.

RWII - Day 3

2008-06-26T08:13:00.004-05:00

http://picasaweb.google.com/russ.engelhardt/RecoveryWeekII02

Day 3 was the full Monty... this was the day we made our first full assault on evil. This is not a place for defensive stands.

We had our coffee and breakfast looking out over the sound, we laughed and enjoyed. Breakfasts are always on your own but there is all sorts of good, and good for you, food to pick from - and the coffee is Starbucks. One issue - Ken the observant made a GIANT 20 cup pot of coffee and we drank, and chortled, and drank some more... only to be told later that morning by Jill, "oh, well, the reason you all have [inserted adjective for impact] f***ing headaches is, you all drank DECALF all morning!" ha, ha, ha, ha, she took some sort of woman power pleasure from her observation of our caffeinated demise... Ken was glared at and forgiven - with the condition that he won't be killed unless he makes the same mistake this morning! As all 8 of us mulled around it was noticed that Dan, Nathan, and Andy had arrived and were walking up to the house. This revelation was greeted by the following completely simultaneous sentiments: "oh crap", "here we go", "shit", "this sucks"... they were like 3 chefs approaching the lobster tank. With no hesitation - we scrambled downstairs to begin the slow boil.

Dan was great, he talked to us for 2 hours about the schemes of evil through Betrayal, Powerless, and Ambivalence - their effect on Faith, Hope, and Love - and our use of Defensiveness & Regret against Trust (faith) as a reaction to Betrayal, our use of Worry and Regret against Creativity and Bloody Dreaming (hope) as a reaction to Powerlessness, and finally our joining with evil, our union and oneness with lesser gods that honors things beneath our dignity. For each set of new understanding he gave us questions to consider. It was really good. We received all the requisite Dan'ism's during the adventure of course - my particular favorite this day was... "How can you smell the fragrance of his delight when the flatulence of your defensiveness overwhelms the room!" - I am sorry but that is AWESOME!

Then the battle got bloody.

Group A went with Dan and Bob moved into his place of blurriness again and Mark suffered his story through his filters. Group B started to meet with Nathan... First Tegan, the big demons are afraid of him and paired with Nathan - they did some damage. Then I went in and Nathan and I explored the places the years of my sexual abuse provided, safety, life, and enjoyment - it was rough, and anywhere I am not honest about that... I really am a fraud. Everyone is working really patiently with me to slice off the disdain I have for myself.

We ate lunch, grilled cheese and soup... sounds mundane, oh you would be so wrong - put really good cheese on really good Sourdough with butter, make some potato soup completely from scratch - and it is traditional, and excellent - great meal Jill.

Group B then went with Dan and the A group began to meet with Andy individually (this is how it will go every day). In group B it was Tegan and I again on our stories. Tegan went first - Tegan brings deep breathing, and welling tears to anyone that has heard the retching evil of his story... your tears are followed by a smile though, because Tegan gives brilliance, and funny presence, and soothing words to any conversation. (no shitting you, a bald eagle just flew by my window). Then I went - my story was funneled to my home - it was rough - my sexually explicit and drunk out of their mind parents for 19 years of my life made my abusers home... a welcome refuge - I tore through that for a while.

Everyone finished up with their individual sessions with Andy and Nathan - and we ate Mexican food - prepared by a red haired Seattle dweller, and it was really - and I mean really good - again, good job Jill. We heard from Chris at dinner and this was not one of his same 7 terrible meals - Chris has suffered, and we have heard him. We then retired to the living room where we are determined to hear every ones story so that Group A and Group B do not leave here separate in any way. Chris, Ken, myself, and Mark let them fly - it was a rich time - it is a new day.

RWII - Day 2

2008-06-25T07:36:00.007-05:00

http://picasaweb.google.com/russ.engelhardt/RecoveryWeekII02

Well kids... WE HAVE INTERNET ACCESS!! Thus and hencely (not a word) I will try as best I can to keep you up with what is happening with us. Day 2 was largely logistical and largely not... and as God would have it - one of the first things Dan said to us was - "This week is about ambivalence...". We (Mark, Tegan [sounds like Reagan], and I) ate a killer-sloppy-but-awesome breakfast at a true hole in the wall in Seattle. Then we caught the ferry early after buying our loved ones some Seattle garb. We were laughing nervously but heartily about lots of things - and listening to Tegan insult Mark with scripture none-the-less was classic - Mark loved it by the way because he is no novice at scripture flinging!
We made it to Bainbridge and went to Fort Ward national park on one of the beaches of Bainbridge Island - (I promise tomorrow I will put the pictures in for you... Josh has my camera hookup in his jeep and it is 5:30 in the morning - COMPLETELY light outside by the way). Our brief visit to the park was great, really beautiful, really giant tree's - not Redwoods but huge none the less. We went and ate a Margarita Pizza for lunch and headed for RWII. It was a long ride and as everyone else got more chatty and excited I settled in to quiet internal jaw-clenching. Mark saw me and simply put his hand on my arm for a while (it was a good move). Another thing Dan said shortly after we got here was - "Evil will not let change go unnoticed, this week is also about what evil will do to keep the redeemed from f***ing up it's world". As we drove the loud thoughts seeped back into my conscious... "you are a fraud..."
We drove to far Northern tip of Bainbridge Island and we turned off the main road down a heavily wooded path - in way too much to hope for fashion - a beautiful house appeared before us, beautifully set, beautifully landscaped, and right on top of the Puget Sound (the water)... it is breathtaking where we are staying. My words had returned by that time, and seeing what I was seeing had basically reduced my vocabulary to the words "holy shit" but I was verbalizing it and that was progress... and we marched into the house. (I promise pictures later today or tomorrow with this paragraph just come back and check here tomorrow)
We walked in and it was reunion city - there were my men - swords sleeved but armed... Ken - who speaks with his piercing eyes, Brian - God has more for him, Bob - God smiles at him and it is a mystery, Chris - every band of brothers needs Chris, he is the loud one with wild in his heart that draws his sword first and screams with blood in his eyes as we begin to run at evil... Tegan - a powerful man that gives us strength... as well as Mark, Josh, and I of course - 8 men to do the fighting this time. Hugs abounded and catching up was the order.
I discovered that I was rooming with Ken - again, too much to hope for, he is one of the best men I know and one of my favorite people in this world... he does not know yet his power. I was elated with this revelation. I walked around soaking in where I was in lots of ways. Jill and Lisa, Dan's Mars Hill administrators were here also - brilliant, strong women with eyes of kindness and care - it is fun to see them. Jill is cooking for us all week and she ran a kitchen in a former life so she knows what she is doing, i.e. she made us Salmon with caramelized onions, coconut, and almonds for dinner - it was delish kids.
Then the officers walked in - Dan, Nathan, and Andy - we were a band again - it is an understatement but... it was "good" to see them and embrace them and hear them. I was animated by now and enjoying the moments even though I was nervous - all good. Less than 10 minutes after we arrived Dan ordered us downstairs to the debrief and RWII began.
We did logistics for the week, laughed, and prayed a bit, then we went upstairs and ate. At dinner we shared the current context of our life and it was rich. I shared about the voice that tells me I am a fraud with some tears and that... was also good. Back downstairs after dinner and apple cobbler and ice cream dessert.
Dan, Nathan, and Andy all told brief stories as they are working themselves out in their lives right now - connected to their big story - as an example of how Dan wants to move into our present while we are here. It was awesome to give words to Dan, Nathan, and Andy - I could not contain myself, I had words for all three and felt evil tell me I am arrogant... the truth, a lie in the moment. Josh expressed the most beautiful, poetic words I have heard spoken in quite a while for Nathan - it stunned me, I told him that, it broke him - Josh is amazing, Josh is in the right place.
Dan, Nathan, and Andy left - they go home to Dan's house each night, and the men made phone calls and then settled in for an evening of laughing and talking... it was great. Dan challenged us to Sit and Listen, Walk, and Write every day, he challenged us to think about our horizontal relationships and the Harm / Glory in them. Also we are to think about the Vertical relationships with God and Evil... what are the themes, memories, scenes we want to go back into that touch these relationships this week.
I ended my night thinking about that, it was overwhelming. I am asking God to give me a few because evil gave me 100's. It is settling into the places I "withhold"... and all the implications of that word in its deepest sense. It is actually morning of DAY 3 right now - I am going to go and have some coffee on the deck and look at the water with my friend Ken right now... back for more tomorrow ya'll.

RWII - Day I

2008-06-24T08:10:00.004-05:00

Well, I am here... actually all we have done is made it to Seattle, we got here yesterday - we is Mark and I - and we hung out with our cool friend Josh. Josh lives here and he will be going to RWII with us later today. So yesterday was really long - I got up at 3:30 and hung out with my wife for a little bit (she has been great for me, she told me she was proud of me for coming here and to "let" this happen for me), eventually we made it to the airport and spent the morning flying to Seattle. It is between 55 and 75 degrees here everyday and the forecast is sunny - so that is awesome. Josh kept saying to us "yes, and it's Sunny" which is odd for me to hear but in Seattle, being sunny is an event... where as in San Antonio sunny is mundane and expected - aren't we spoiled. But they are spoiled up here with excellent summer temperatures and extraordinary beauty that they have made mundane. What makes us start to ignore the glory that surrounds us? Anyhow, we ate at this perfect little Italian restaurant, outside, in downtown Seattle... seafood pasta, flawless garlic bread, a carafe of red wine, good conversation, and it was just good. We ran around a bit, got situated, and eventually had some dinner at The Crab Pot. That is really cool, we got a dinner for 3 and they put butcher paper on the table (we were again sitting outside, this time by the water) and bring 2 big buckets filled with Crabs (dungenous, Alaskan, and snow), clams, oysters, mussels, shrimp, salmon chunks, halibut chunks, potatoes, corn-on-the-cob, and andoule sausage...!!! Well you certainly must add some local micro-brews to the table, which we did a couple of times... and it was a meal made for a picture. Which we could not take because none of us had a camera so words and our memories will have to do. We always have pretty good conversations as well and last night was no exception.

So day 1 was a good day to say the least. I have been poking my favorite target with sarcasm though and that will have to come under some scrutiny. Some of it has just been "funny stuff" and Mark sets it up so well it is crazy but I can feel the places in me that are medicating on humor. It is all obvious why, and we have had a lot of laughs at all of our expense but all-in-all we are staying light-hearted as we gather before the battle. It is like being with your friends putting battle gear on in preparation - it is a mixture of pressure venting humor and seriousness that let's everyone know, we are together.

This morning (I say "morning" in light by the way because of something else you should know... I went to bed at 1:15 San Antonio time and I am up at 7:15 S.A. time writing this, that is 11 and 5 a.m. here - it stays light outside until 9:45 p.m. here and it gets light at about 4:50 a.m. here - I love it but that is a lot of light, too close to the top of the earth)... anyhow, this morning Josh is picking Mark and I up for breakfast. It will be a long, coffee laden, chatty, delicious Seattle breakfast and then we will do some miscellaneous stuff taking in the beauty before picking up our other friend Tagen and boarding the ferry to cross to the extremely breathtaking but hellish Island of Bainbridge. There we will enter the fray later this afternoon.

I sure hope there is Internet at the place we stay (which is a mystery by the way, adding to my anxiety of course) because I want to blog about what goes on for me each day. Adios for now, it is time to go spoon with Mark before we get ready for breakfast :) !!!

Muddled

2008-06-21T07:06:00.005-05:00

Once when I was in a small group we were going around to each individual at the end of our time and giving one "feeling-word" (easy there stomach) about how we were leaving the group. Well this one really smart lady in our group Aretha, said she was leaving "muddled". I love words, and for some reason that one made my mind pop! I was way overly interested in her word, I repeated it in my head several times, and I even was saying it in sentences in my head as if I was using it, completely jealous that she was the word master and I was but her mere grasshopper that moment... but it made me tip my head ever so slightly to the right while I looked at her and I admired her more that day. She not only had really interesting feelings going on, she had the perfect word to put to it... well, all that to say - Muddled is a great feeling word!

Definition: Muddled - to cause to become confused or stupid with or as if with an intoxicating drink... bewildered, foggy.

What a word! The idea of being left to the mercy of intoxication does not sound so bad, but stupid... confused... and bewildered - may it never be. Oh the torturous ambivalence of this resplendent word, tearing at my soul with its claws of gospel veracity. O.k. enough drama... I am actually just a bit nervous about next week and muddled sounded like a good word for it - makes a decent blog-post title as well.

I feel muddled because on Monday morning I head off to an "event" called Men's Recovery Week II. I will simply let the title of the little sequel suffice as an explanation of where I am headed and assure you that your first thoughts are accurate - "that doesn't sound fun, why would anyone do that without being forcibly dragged... he must be on drugs, it is an intervention and he is addicted to crack or something - maybe he will meet Lindsey Lohan!". I am going with my friend Mark (he would like me to caveat that with "best" but that status is temporarily on hold because of an unnecessary lack of a coffee encounter this week). My friend Josh will be there and I will get to see some other men from last year that I care deeply about... as well as getting to spend time with Nathan, a man with depth, insight, and awesomeness (no extra charge for awesomeness) - and of course Dan will be there - the surgeon, always cool to hang with one of your hero's.

Anyhow, I am afraid, I am excited, I am foggy, I am hesitant, I am... muddled right now and I thought that writing about it would be somewhat cathartic - and it is. If the place we stay has Internet I will try to blog once or twice while up there, won't that be fun! I picture the faces of all the people that care about me sending me off to heal some more, grow some more and it helps because they are kind faces. Well, that's all - just letting you know what is rolling around up there...

Water Ski

2008-06-15T21:35:00.008-05:00

Brace yourself, this is a long one...

When I was 11 years old, a friend I met a Camp Capers - Wade - invited me to go camping with him and his father. Well, among the facts that everything about camping was a new experience for me - we were at Lake Summerville and Wade's dad brought his 85 HP 1974 model Glastron boat. I went out on the water with them and Wade was a really good skier... I got out there, terrified by the way (I had never even jumped in a lake before), but I got up on 2 skis on my second try - I skied exactly twice on 2 skis, was all over the place on them, and they thought I would be ready for slalom. This idea can be very frightening to many but after being on 2 skis, for some reason I thought being on 1 would be easier. They had a split handled training rope, I put Wades green O'Brian slalom ski on and slipped it into the split. They were idling forward and I felt the push of that water - followed every ounce of advice they gave me with my ears absolutely peeled - and they hit it... I came right up out of the water - up on my first try, it felt natural and the rest has been history as they say.

I love to water ski. I have ripped a course at 34mph with 22 off hitting close to 68mph on the pull to the pylons (world record is 1 1/2 bouys at 43 off so don't be too impressed), I have launched myself on knee boards, wake boards, and trick skis off of wakes, jumps, and even docks. I have barefooted frontwards, backwards, jumped, tumbleturned blah blah blah... I did the whole enchilada. I owned my own competition level ski boat for 6 years and it was the most cool boat ever - it was a 1990 Brendella with a 351 Ford Winsor and a Holly 650 double-pumper. It was boss-awesome and a boat for men... key point.

Why all these ski credentials you ask... I did not buy my boat and get into completely serious skiing until 4 years after my sexual abuse ended. Those 4 years were marked by confusion, shame, insecurity, violence, and fear. One thing I always could bank on, about me and a gift I had from God, was water skiing - I went with anyone and everyone that would take me. Then I met my friend Paul at church. Paul was a good slalom skier and he had a big nasty (for skiing) Chapperal inboard-outboard boat. He invited me skiing... it was just he and I, we went to Canyon lake, put in at Turkey Point, skied, and then rode over to a boat up restaurant and ate dinner. We did this one more time the next week.

A little about Paul. Paul is one of the safest men I know. He is kind, selfless, and I have learned many, many things from him. I don't know why he took to me but... mostly I think he liked watching me ski - he loved skiing also - and we would critique every detail of each others game on the water so we could get better and better. Paul is a man among men. He can build and fix anything, and I mean anything. He rarely sleeps past 4:30 a.m. and accomplishes more manual labor before 8:00 a.m. every day than most men do in a week. Paul has an appropriate level of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and we are kindred spirits in the pursuit of details. But being around Paul made me feel like a man, a young 20 something man but a man none the less. Paul has a fearless confidence about him that is addictive and an adventure to be around. I learned all kinds of skills from him - but mostly I learned to risk because life is too short not to. Once he came over to Kim and I's house in La Vernia and we were telling him that we wanted to close off and turn a portion of our huge back porch into a home office. Paul asked "really? are you sure? I mean do you really want to do this?" We answered in the affirmative. Now understand that he was just over to have dinner but after learning of our plans, he walked out to my garage, retrieved a hammer, re-entered my house and walked up to the front wall facing our porch... he reached back and swung that hammer at the wall putting huge hole in it and knocking sheet rock dust onto our amazing real oak floor... then he looked back at Kim and I standing there slightly stunned and said "...there, now we are committed!". Important word in there - "we" - he helped me tons on that room and it turned out really nice - I even hand built all my cabinets.

So, after Paul and I skied those 2 times, we made some commitments to one another to continue this adventure of becoming ski partners. I wanted to get into barefooting and serious slalom skiing and the wake on Paul's boat was unacceptable. He went with me and we found my Brendella Shortline Competition boat. The very next week we went out to Canyon lake and skied that Brendella and it was awesome. I had bought a ski boom and told Paul that evening that we were going to try and add a second skill to our ski portfolio... barefooting. He said he was too old for that and blah blah blah... but I got out on the boom, we snuck it up to 40 and... I barefooted! Paul, never one to back down from a challenge, followed me and bam... he did great. Then we went over to the restaurant to eat. We of course could barely contain our chick-magnet status now as freaking daredevil barefooters... studly we were that evening I will tell you that. That night turned into 6 years of skiing nearly every Friday morning on lake Dunlap (we moved to a closer lake with better barefoot water). We only missed about 5 weeks a year when it was bitterly cold. We both had dry suits so we would but on our bathing suits, barefoot suits, and then dry suits over all of it and ski, ski, ski - just he and I - even when it was 37 degrees out one morning. We would get to Dunlap at 6:30 a.m. and ski till about 9:30 on those mornings. After skiing we would go eat breakfast at a German restaurant in New Braunsfels. We knew all the waitresses and they would not even ask our order, they would just get our food because we had become a fixture. We skied together around 220 times over those years and our friendship was a blast. We were like a well oiled ski machine working that boat, our equipment... our routine - it was great, fun routine. We would pull out on that lake at about 6:40 a.m. and steam would be rising off the glass top water. We would drive up about 200 yards to a wider spot on the lake and power off the boat... then we would pray for our safety that day. Twice in those years, after we prayed, we looked up at each other and almost simultaneously said "something ain't right"... that was it, we turned around, trailored the boat and went to breakfast early, none the worse.

Eventually I got married, Paul went through some difficult family issues, and Kim and I needed a down payment on our house... I sold the boat - Paul and I remained friends but neither of us had skiing to share any longer... that was about 15 years ago and I have only skied once since then... until today. You see, 2 years ago, Paul bought a house on Lake Dunlap, fixed it up all himself to near perfection (it is beautiful, it is a house I dream about). He also bought a cool competition Nautique ski boat. He has been inviting me to the lake for about a year now and I felt like I would be intruding on him because he has lots of family and friends up there all the time. He persisted and this this weekend Kim, Reyn, and I went to Pauls lake house on Dunlap - and Paul and I skied together again. What I learned is that Paul wanted me there, for different reasons than he wants others there. He completely enjoys everyone else, but he wanted me there because our friendship over those 6 years got us through some crazy times in our lives - Paul wants his ski partner back - and that's me.

I walked around his lake house admiring it and telling him about all the details I noticed and appreciated - it was really cool, fun, awesome, beautiful. He and his wife made us feel like family and it was a weekend of provoked longings. Paul, several times, grabbed my hand tightly and said "you will be coming up here often". So, having a house on Dunlap and skiing with our families was always a dream... a shared dream that was a little bit about skiing and a lot bit about living life fully and having good friends to do it with. Paul was, without saying it, telling me "I got some of our dream done... but it is not all it can be unless you are here." This is all hard for me to swallow in my shame. But...

Paul and I skied together again this weekend - we kicked in a little bit - Paul pulled me, I pulled him - it was fun, it was awesome - I am thinking about going back to do it again...

Out there...

2008-06-14T09:05:00.005-05:00

So... I deleted my "out-there" post of gluteous poetry. You know it is a sport called "Extreme Posting", you should try it sometime. Just take the slightly depraved but still funny stuff rolling around in your head, write a semi-funny haphazard poem about it, and then... follow up the poem with a paragraph that you use to beat yourself up with shaming references to things that probably are not that funny in light of your story.

If you do not know what I am talking about, consider yourself lucky - I deleted the post I am referencing because there was no kind reason to leave it exposed. Sometimes that is what you get from me... I hope my journey will continue to take me places that I am not as careless with my dignity, and offensive to the beauty of the people that care about me.

I leave for an event called Men's Recovery Week II (yes, implications are shouting, I have already survived Men's Recovery Week I last year), I leave in 8 days. Last year about this time prior to RWI - I was in the emergency room with chest pains... this year prior to R.W.II - I am having other less serious, but certainly inconvenient, stress related physical anomalies. In addition, the anticipation of what I will deal with when I am up there (it is on an island across the Sound from Seattle) seems to have spurred me to step up my self contempt and inter-communicative shock factor in order to deal with the shame I am getting ready to stare down and punch in the mouth. At Recovery Week you deal with your story in very direct and deep ways, I will be with 7 or 8 other men with a history of sexual abuse and we will be going on a journey together to confront evil and it's intentions with our hope.

One cool thing is that I will probably have a lot to blog about when I get back... Although you may want to prepare yourself again, last time I got back I was also all out-there and over-the-top... surely I have learned and grown since then - surely.

Sleeeeep

2008-06-11T06:31:00.003-05:00

Yesterday I was reading the singing B's blog and she was lamenting the reasons she does not do what she [f@#%ing-crapping-piece-of-shizer dog snot!!! right after I typed that last word "she" my laptop... REBOOTED, mysteriously - that totally hacks me off as a geek - not a nerd - geeks are nerds that make money! Anyhow back to the post]... what she wants / longs to do - mostly read good stuff, write good stuff, chill out in communion with her online community... experiencing good books that feed her soul, listening to God, listening to music, chatting with her hub, and hopefully smiling and singing - which in my opinion she does best - her smile is beautiful and her singing... well it makes everyone else smile. I was so completely with her in those desires with a few male adjustments, but with her none the less. Well one of the major reasons she cited for not engaging in what she "wants" to do was... time - certainly my excuse as well. So, I have 2 short points about that -
ONE - the lead Yahoo news story was that the most healthy sleep interval you can get, i.e. the most healthy people that live the longest without as many problems - sleep between 6.5 and 7.5 hours a night. The most unhealthy sleep 8.5 or more. This is really great... I was always so concerned that if I kept cutting my sleep short I was going to screw up my health - so 6.5 is my target... if I stick to that I can get up between 5 and 5:30 and read, write, commune w/ the healer a bit, journal, drink some good coffee - AND - I will be getting the most healthy amount of sleep still! Awesome for me!
TWO - I will not do the things I long to do... I will not live the life I imagine... if I do not apply some brute force to it. It is such a mystery to me why I run from my glory... His glory in and through me - I know I am afraid of it, I war with the hints that deep down, His creation in me is the most true thing about me - but it is very deep and there is a thick layer of shame, fear, behavior, lies, and basic victim bullshit that is like dried mud on top of that glory. I, thankfully, am getting more and more bored with my inane survival. So today, I am full of determination to live in some longings... and I don't need as much sleep to do that! More time awake, for me.

Imagine, what could I do, who could I be - if I lived from, not just used, my strength. Who would we be... let that sink in for a moment. I can tell you I just paused and thought about the "we" in my life - there are amazing people in my community and dawgone what we could all be. It is certainly a ride... when I think about "using" my strength: I use it like a weapon, I whore it, I fling it, I drink it like diet Big Red for a caffeine pick-me-up... Please forgive me, all who know me, for the places I have exposed you to myself as a "user" - I truly love you, love me, and love God when I offer, and live "with" the truest parts.

Celebrated

2008-06-10T06:32:00.004-05:00

I don't know about you, but every time I hear that it was one of my good friends birthday's - a couple of days after it was their birthday... it sends through me a mixture of sadness, shame (for having the audacity to not have every one's birthday memorized), and pissed-offedness - for not giving me the opportunity to celebrate them. I am not certain... nope, I am certain - that all - "I don't say anything about my birthday because I don't want all the blah, blah, blah, blah"... bullshit - that is all about our dysfunction and shame. How dare you not give me the opportunity to, as one of my favorites said, celebrate "your arrival to this world"... good grief - we could just have a smile, a laugh, and an Afflegem Double (that is an amazing double the alcohol content Belgium beer!). O.K. wine for the chicks (HA! all the women I know sooo love being referred to as a "chick") but I do love wine also... Or, maybe we would just have an all out bash just because everyone, everyone... I am here to tell you everyone, should be celebrated without shame. You, my friends, are worth the fuss, worth the effort, worth loving... it makes us feel alive to celebrate each other.
So why am I talking about this... YESTERDAY WAS MY BIRTHDAY! For everyone that did not know that, that gives a crap about me (shame), I apologize that you did not know. I did drop strategic hints though and people that love me made me feel loved well yesterday... and I thank them from the bottom of my heart. Here is what happened to me:

My wife kissed me as soon as she woke up and said happy birthday
She made me coffee and sat and talked to me before work
At work as soon as I got to my desk, Erin who sits next to me said happy birthday and so did many members of my team
Then Erin and Homer went and got me a water because they were getting some. They said it was my birth-water, HA, I laughed politely at their junior play on words... that actually caused me to hesitate, push vigorously out of my mind, the image of drinking bloodied amniotic fluid as I took my first sip... yuck.
Then Tres and Bobby took me to Champps for lunch and Bobby bought mine, that was cool.
My sister texted me from Tennessee and wished me happy birthday
My friend Todd sent me an email from Austin that was very cool and kind and wished me a happy birthday
Then I had my weekly team meeting and my team made a funny card for me, bought an ice cream cake for me, and we all had some and told funny stories for my staff.
Then, as I came back from my staff... 2 of my crazy friends bought me a freakin mammoth sized collection of birthday balloons, somehow got into USAA via one of my other friends, made their way to my desk, and tied the gargantuan monstrosity to my chair... now I basically have a freakin balloon tent that covers my desk and threatens to float me to the ceiling constantly. It also serves as a glaring beacon to everyone in our bay (B3West) to come by and laugh, comment on me, and ask how old I am... do I love it? Probably but as a male I promise to not admit it... thank you my crazy balloon friends, I love you both with a seriously serious love.
Then I went to pick up my truck at Paul Hooks garage, it was having a tune up, and my sneaky wife had called Paul and had him install 4 brand new iPod worthy speakers in it, and install a really nice hardwired iPod player system in my truck... it is really cool and now I can listen to my rather rockin collection of diverse music - my taste in music kicks ass frankly, not in the patronizing "I play guitar therefore I have some hip smooth inside knowledge of really good music" taste, nope, my taste is more of the Jack-Black-Skaduche-rock-it-like-a-dork-and-mean-it taste... I like it, dudes...
My boys called me during work and wished me happy birthday.
When I got home Kim had bought me a chocolate cake! I love chocolate cake.
We had Pei Wei and Pizza up at the pool and finally finished my Arrival to this World day...

It was fun, I felt celebrated, I enjoyed that feeling... that is kinda cool - I guess I tasted my food huh. P.S. I still have a fun birthday dinner to have on Friday also... it's all about me, me, me... Wahoo!

Worries

2008-06-08T08:50:00.003-05:00

How do you laugh at tomorrow? I was up at Maranatha last weekend in Muskeegon Michigan and Dr. Allender was there speaking (Open Hearts 20th anniversary celebration)... I included all of the links in case you have no idea what that sentence means, my peeps do... Anyhow, Dan (Allender), in his Dan way was talking about when Jesus healed some blind guy with his spit - you know that might be a universal cure but Jesus is the only one to ever try it! Or was it a lame guy by just speaking to him - no matter - Jesus was doing his merciful, all powerful healer-God thing - you know how Jesus does, he's cool... before he heals the guy though he asks him a question - "What is it you want me to do for you?" - I don't know how eye-rollingly lame that may seem to you as in "I have heard 1000 messages on that" lame - and Creflo A. Dollar talks about it every Sunday lame, but... Dan was un-laming it for us and asking that if you consider that question in a profound way - a stunning way - it kind of makes you tremble. It does that because when you read it, the Spirit is just in front of your face waiting for you to express some "L" words. Longings, not Lavender like all my beniful gays were thinking! It does that only when you consider the question in your maturity. That is a question not of your fantasy, but of your imagination - the place that hopes in silence - and when you speak it, you risk - you REALLLY risk - and your faith is tested, and your questions about how "real" God is are raised. Is He real, is He good, is He for me... and if I ask this can I live expectantly (verb) for the answer?
Well, all that to say, when the Danimal posed Jesus' question, he had us write down our answer and wanted us to in effect - taste it slowly at a really good meal with our loving friend. So I thought, and thought again and I had a couple of longing requests but the one that appeals to me more than any other was "I want to be able to laugh at tomorrow?" (Prov. 31).
I was raised by 2 alcoholic parents and from the moment I realized (about the age of 8) I was on my own from about 5 p.m. every day and really for mostly all the questions I had about who I was and how life works - even the small stuff - I began to WORRY. I worried constantly about so many things that little boys and teenagers and young 20's are not supposed to have to worry about - it is really a deep exhaustion. Even writing this, when I think about myself as a little boy and as a middle-schooler tears start to form because my mind swirled a flurry of questions I worried about. Constantly manuvering to receive my questions answers while exposing myself to the lowest risk possible... wide-eyed survival. One of the chiefs among my questions was "What if someone found out what my life, my home, I... was really like?" One man did and he used worry over the answers to sexually abuse me for 5 years... There are closets in my mind where whispers say - if you were not so worried and needy - he would not have gotten you - it is, somewhat, your fault...
A backpack of the real weight to me, one of the tough things to shrug are the pounds (literally) of worry. I LONG to find a place, I long for Jesus to give me the places - to - can I please have - the ability to Laugh at Tomorrow... My worries are the chasm's where I misplace my poetry. God and I both like poems.

Repentance is a Paragraph...

2008-05-27T06:20:00.004-05:00

Ha... a friend of mine asked, with an obviously irritated catch in her throat... "What would it BE LIKE for you to JUST write one damn paragraph!", "Why does it always have to be perfect, and 10 paragraphs...". One paragraph, hell, who can write anything in one - oh well, here is a dang paragraph for today.

Manna, you know that is with 2 "n's" by the way - I had to check Exodus Chapter 16 for that... be duly intimidated by my rushing off to my bible - and please feel free to have that check inside of you that wonders if I read it ALL the time and you are merely a lax curmudgeon that God is so frustrated and disappointed with. Never fear, I am the chief sinner in that space I can assure you - but I did read Exodus chapter 15 and 16 this morning and that is where the people of Israel start grumbling about the provision of God in bitter water turned sweet, and honey sweet bread - also known as manna. After I read, I prayed. Occasionally when I pray I just sit and try to listen - sounds spiritually cliche I know but one rarely actually practices such a vulnerable act... listening requires that you not control the conversation, that you actually believe God is real, and you totally risk not hearing ANYTHING. Well, I risked it this morning and what I heard was - what's your Manna Russ? What honey sweet bread from heaven do you complain about like it is a burden. It is my wife, my honey from heaven, she is a Gift to me. "Give me this day my daily bread" - well one thing He gives me is my wife - it is totally up to me how I treat, view, grumble about, enjoy, and/or cherish that gift on a daily basis. I was struck that the next sentence in the model prayer is "forgive me my sins...". I am a grumbler, I am a child of Israel complaining about the manna - every day - hell of a way to go through life huh. I should stop that, should you?

Christmas tastes pretty good!

2007-12-15T10:49:00.000-06:00

My friend wondered what that guy that wants to "taste his food" is doing about that metaphor when it comes to Christmas... It may have something to do with the fact that I have not posted/written my heart in over 2 months. Sorry about that but this time of year is a swirl of ambivalence for me and it hinders my love, and what I view myself and my role to be on this planet. So... shit! I am pushing through, that is what I am doing dang it. Our house is decorated to the hilt, it is warm and beautiful, and dripping with Christmas. Now we will see if my wife and I will dare to ask anyone over to enjoy it with us. If you want to know the truth, about how I really feel in my shame, the whispers are that everyone else is enjoying their Christmas just fine with their friends and families and we would just be another somewhat bothersome, busy stop on any ones blessed holiday time agenda. What a victim I am. In my imaginings I want all our friends to come over in the next 2 weeks to have a glass of wine, or some Maredsous (Belgium's finest monastarial beer!), some cheese, some cookies, some eggnog w/ "enhancements", and some love and relationship and Christ. AND - I am just not willing to risk the disappointment of the fact that I have waited too long, all of them have plans with family and friends and parties and... and I will be alone with my fears. SO, that is fantastic Russell - why don't you just make that happen by not asking anyone over! Do you see how much of a idiot I can be - dang.

Anyhow, I am writing... that is something. It sucks to have put yourself in position to be alone, then to find your self alone, then start lamenting your aloneness, and finally to be ashamed of why you feel alone. What a dysfunctional battle! When I come up for a breath - Christmas tastes pretty good - I hope to enjoy what I have before me, and enjoy celebrating Jesus. I love Christmas, I love Christ, now to just figure out how to enjoy it!

"Are you telling me that Ham, Pork Chops, and Bacon... ALL come from the SAME animal!!!? - some wonderful, amazing, and glorious animal!!!?" "mmmmmm... pig..."

This is NOT my Home

2007-12-15T10:22:00.000-06:00

My strains and groans and misery grows as I try to make this place, this earth, this life... my home. Disappointed and discontented I mourn my plate. Unwilling to embrace Hope I despair my short-ended longings... This is not your Home - His voice calls... my true name on His lips. The profound nature of the obvious mocks my glazed defeated stare. As all creation declares the Glory of our creator in loud, slapping, obvious astonishment - yet, by me/us, it is largely taken as a saturating gray background. In the same, our Savior screams "This is NOT your Home!" and we live nodding our heads in agreement with this plain, wonderful, truth - and the next moment drift to work on this place being our endpoint, our hearts focus. I abort my faith in His truth about my true home, I murder my hope in what will surely be. I must pursue my longings attached to my Heavenly home, stir the embers beneath that passion. This world and this home will, is, does, has, and certainly is going to stink - disappoint - hurt - and fail my heart and sensibilities... DUH! This present will give you tastes of glory but you must not be satisfied, you must thirst for more, restoration... heaven. This is not your home Russell... Live, clothed in strength and dignity as you laugh at tomorrow. Your, your wife, your boys, your friends... your home awaits and it will be Glorious. Disappointment is a given as I pass through - ground your smile Russell, in the contentment of your hope.

- THIS IS NOT YOUR HOME -

Have a MO-ment...

2007-10-28T20:47:00.000-05:00

You know how when we want to make a politically incorrect assertion, we may try to soften the bite of the words that are about to be delivered by letting the audience know your oh-so-close affiliation with the minority you are about to under value. For example, if you were going to say something unkind as an unflattering stereotype of Hispanics... you might say "and I grew up right next to a Mexican family... I love Mexicans". Or, if your target is the oft maligned homosesual, you may say - 'my best friend is gay'. Of course that statement always raises you listeners right eyebrow so you must categorize it with a time frame and appropriate dissassociative disclaimers... "he turned Mo later in life, when we were kids he seemed normal, I mean he wasn't gay when I knew him". Now you have tossed you whole gender affinity into question with the audience members that don't know you so you wipe the single bead of sweat off your brow and either scratch your nether region or fart to assert male connubial ism with definitive certainty.

So, I am about to adorn your brains with my highly familiar view of mo-dom because I have always wanted to organize these thoughts into a single argument of loathing and dreck. And, to adjust any notions that I may be 'unqualified' in the realm of mo-ness... 'my best friend growing up is now a practicing gay. Oh, and I also did grow up next to a Mexican family, and I loved them'. There you have it... and it is true. Seriously, and tragically I was sexually abused for years as a teenager by a mo-predator. My friend [best man at my wedding even], was the one that introduced me to my abuser. He was being dismantled by that man as well, along with another close friend of mine and about 8 other kids from my high school and that neighborhood. None of us knew about the others...[we certainly speculated but were too afraid to open our mouths about what was happening for fear of death, literally]. The bastard, our abuser, died in 2001 from complications during a routine heart bypass surgery. Only then were some of us able to talk about it. So... when I rail against the Mo-Kingdom, I do so as one who has been affected directly by its evil and pathetic servitude of perversion. And for all of you who think the topic of homosexuality and predatory sexual abuse against the same sex are two completely different topics and pathologies... well, you could not be more wrong... and I really do want to say that respectfully. And since I have let the cat out about my story, I promise I will blog a bit some time in the near future about more details of my long and painful journey.

I think what must be really going on inside of me... is that there are many places that I am angry with my closest childhood friend for settling with homosexuality to medicate his pain, and I am angry with him for introducing me to the man that abused me. I really miss my friend but his lifestyle separates us - in his head as he thinks my Christianity hates him, and in my head as I know he craves male sexual affection that makes me recoil with the explicit knowledge I have torturing my memories of what that is all about... Well, that is the bitch of it, because I miss my friend - HE - is still the same person that I needed desperately as a frightened, lonely little boy living in the insanity of my double alcoholic, emotionally abandoned home. He is the same person I had a blast with from the age of 4 to 22 in a thousand adventures of life having a best friend. When we were in college I would call him at 3:00 a.m. and just say "Jim's" and he would simply reply "10 minutes" and we would meet at Jim's restaurant, 410 and Blanco, to eat Turkey Club sandwiches and Canadian Cheese Soup (especially good to dip your fries in)... but we had enough laughs and dangerous high speed car races to last any red blooded male a lifetime... I miss my friend. BUT... he, society, our culture, and mostly the rabid mo-nation have cultivated the idea that WHO my friend is - is GAY. That is the crap that drives me insane.

Being gay - is NOT who gays are, it is what they settle for. How did who they like to have sex with become the definition of "who they are"? Well it is certainly convenient because now they can define all sorts of silly crap around that shallow classification. Anyhow, here is a simple list of my mo-ranting thoughts - I hate the sin - and I hate the sinners when they use this pathetic pathos to justify hiding from the truth:

Why do mo's most pair off and one becomes a female role (the bitch) and the other takes on the male role (the butch) - anyone see the hetero-hilarity in that?
Being a mo-male is mostly about having orgasms... that's it - men with a bent towards perversion, a bent towards addiction, on top of being... well, male... it is true that men have the capacity to pursue having an orgasm with all the shallow detachment of an oversexed dog (the basis of all porno movies)... well, now you get men together and flip the switch off that regulates disgust over another males razor stubble touching you ANYWHERE... and - wallah - you have an meaningless orgasm schmorgesborg before you.
ALL mo's have traumatic, painful, stories - childhood stories
Modom is not genetic (give me a break)
Moness is not supported by - Nature, Biology, Physiology (the anus is a one-way valve people), genetics, phsycology, religion, health, common sense, survival, and creation
Moology is supported by - dysfunction, the porn industry, every society and culture in history that was Godless and destroyed itself from within, humanism... evil
HIV is a mo disease, it is sad and "what the hell did you expect to happen idiot's" at the same time
Yes, God hates all my murderous addictions as much as he hates mo practice
I hate nancy, prancing, in your face, activist, rebellious, unrepentant, homo, haters of God
I hate the evil that produced my abuser, to turn that evil on me
...

So I think I could go on and on - but as I write my anger is giving me an ache that is a mixture of sadness, shame, and hoplessness that I have been somehow ruined by a perverted, gay man that used my God given hopes and longings to manipulate who I am for his sexual gratification. 5 years of hell for me, all so he could get his jollies out of shaping me and satisfying his pathetic, depraved cravings (mo-cravings).

I miss my friend, I hate my friend... ambivalence is crushing my ability to love. It is really hard to have my beautiful wife, my boys that I love, friends that care deeply... all in front of me - and feel like an alien to them - I long to embrace the Hope of God's blessings in my life, not be terrified of them.

AND kills BUT

2007-09-20T21:10:00.000-05:00

I certainly have been a "but" boy. "Buts" are a way we use to stomp on the first of 2 spoken truths. On the Laura Ingraham show she calls this practice... used with pathetic regularity by politicians, a "But Monkey!" I was recently around a highly introspective community of relational sadists and they introduced me to the idea of living in a "both - and" world. Instead of "butting" all of my first truths into oblivion - there can be both truths, AND, that gives me some freedom. Now I have the option to choose which verisimilitude will be most true about me. Now I can go about the business that God wants us all engaged in... creating beauty, and putting my foot on the neck of evil. When my "but" is offered to beat myself up, and it often is, with a statement like: "I really enjoyed connecting with my small group tonight, BUT, so many of my responses were mechanical and paltry..." - Well, if I could just live with "I enjoy connecting with people", AND, "I can sometimes respond mechanically and paltry". Then I can choose to settle in the warm genuineness that I really enjoy connecting with people. That is what is truer, the other is important to notice and it does not have to define me...

I have also noticed that it is kind of fun to attempt to not use "but" at all for a whole day. It is really hard - and - it is also possible. It is funny how "and" always works in a sentence and how it lifts and lightens what we offer to others.

Anyhow, I just thought this was cool - and - I thought I would share it so you too can have fun with it. Rock kills Scissors, Scissors kill Paper, Paper kills Rock, and finally - "AND" guillotines "but". NO MORE BUT MONKEYS junior!

Shart Story...

2007-08-31T19:46:00.000-05:00

By request... I publish this for your entertainment:

I, my brothers and sisters, am now requesting my statement of accord into the renowned National SHART Guild! Yes, it is true, while sitting at my desk at work no less, have innocently jettisoned excrement into my briefs under the false pretense of flatulence.

You know, the mental and physical dynamics of the Shit-Fart, or SHART, are actually quite fascinating if you really think about them. After I was invited to partake in what I now understand was a full blown SHART Guild fellowship during a trip to Michigan, where I was astonished to be an outcast as I listened to my many friends stories of shameful shartism, of which I, to this point in my life, was not a suffering cohort. Up until now, my ass-valve was quite reliable. However my friends, I am somewhat energized to announce that I now have been hurled headlong into glorious quadruple ambivalence at the occurrence of a tepid, moist, deposit I made in my Fruit del Looms the other day. I mean, I felt horror, shame, anger, and yes, the kindred warmth of happiness. Happiness that I can be embraced in my SHARThood by people that understand me and my plight of poopy turmoil... I... I have a STORY now.

One can't help but ruminate, during the thigh rubbing shuffle to the public restroom, about what the damp brackish grease that now exists in my underwear will reveal when the trophy of my SHART is exposed to air. Hobbled, I make my way into a stall bounded by 2 bowel relieving sojourners on either side, one pair of feet which belonged to a poor soul that must have had a chili-cheese-dog rotting in his colon for days; the redolent effluvium of the molecules aggressively wafting into my nasal passages only heightened my own anxiety about pulling down my undergarment to survey the damage. This anxiety begins at the precise moment of the great deception, when you are betrayed by your flaccid sphincter. In other words, my intentions were pure, I did not want to hurt anybody, I was simply going to consciously act on the little Judas Kiss that my rectum sent my mind... "You only have to toot"... LIAR! Out spurted a turbid concoction of diarrhea and cashew nuts. I had a meeting that I was presenting in immediately, so I had to triage the accident scene quickly. This task encompassed lots of toilet paper a stealthily feverish underwear wipe-down with what could only be described as "limited" effectiveness... I was not about to kick off my shoes, take off my pants, and pull off my underwear with loaf-pinching comrades on either side of me, certain to already be wondering what all of the TP was about in between their own strenuous waste relief "movements". So, yes, I pulled the stained garment of shame back on, and proceeded to my meeting, now only a bit dewy, instead of "wet". Promptly, 45 minutes later, I was heading for my truck where I actually cut the tarnished rags of faithless betrayal off of my body, wiped everything down again, and zipped back up. The fruit bearing undies were tossed anonymously into a parking garage trash can, and I went commando the rest of the day!... I have no more secrets left by God!

Forsaken!

2007-08-29T05:51:00.000-05:00

What in the hell are we afraid of? I think I know some answers to that for "we" and for me... I was reading a blog entry from a friend of mine and it stirred up all kinds of thoughts in me. So, one of my favorites wrote a blog entry called "Betrayed...". It was about Time Magazines decision, and really the Catholic church's decision, to reveal the private journal entries of Mother Teresa against her wishes. My friend was feeling angst at this decision, mostly because of what a shallow world would do with the plain truth of Mother Teresa's "real" thoughts and feelings. She was absolutely begging for feedback based on the threat she made very close to the end of her blog... some gauntlet like "i'm going to think about 'filtering' my writing again". Well that pissed me off so I feverishly pounded this out - What I think about this particular incident, what I think about the truth, and what I think we are really afraid of.

So, on Mother Teresa's betrayal mess. The betrayal was of Mother Teresa's privacy - that is it - the church deliberately betrayed her privacy. It does not feel self-righteous to me or devious. It feels like it must have been a tough call to serve a greater good through a betrayal, rather than keep the truth a secret. It would seem that after the journals were read, the worse betrayal would have been to keep the world from knowing the truth of who she really was. To me, the people that understand the beauty of this woman, will only love her more by understanding the grounded truth, the dirt, of who she was. Mother Teresa had illimitable equity built up in her character, the love she offered this world in the face of what she witnessed while she was a resident here was nothing short of astounding. She saw the horror of what evil will perpetrate and what God "allows" on this earth in sweeping volume. For us to know that, and now be able to illumine it with these precious details - that she wrestled with God, doubted Him, feared Him, raged at Him, yet ALWAYS returned to Him for a hug and a dance... well, that only heightens my love and respect for her. It gives me hope, and an example of what God calls maturity. Who Mother Teresa was, her character equity, can stand up to anything this world would try to misuse in those journals - any attempt would be laughable, evil would be even more exposed as a fool.

So I am really into being in the dirt of the truth lately... and hopefully forever. There is no category called "appropriate" for the truth. We are, our lived and told stories. We are not just what we want people to know. Who you really are is what is truly beautiful. Yet this is where we collide with another stark truth - who we really are can be truly ugly. Once our ugliness is faced, evil is revealed, and the truer reflection illuminates even more beauty - God's forgiveness reflected in His Glory on our face as we bask in the joy of repentance. The lie is that if we were unfiltered, we would be unloved. The unfiltered truth crushes the enemies head and he has nothing... NO Thing to hide behind any longer. Oh he will try to literally kill you with it, but that is just the kind of fight God loves to jump in the middle of and kick ass.

What we (me especially) are really afraid of is that God will not fight for us, He is not good, He is for others - not me. What if He doesn't protect us? Well I think I would rather get wounded facing evil with my unfilteredness than be found running from him getting pierced in the butt - he is coming to destroy either way. Someone has to know your dirt - it makes all the people that are worth a crap, connect with you at the truth of who they are. I love-love it when my friend is unfiltered, it is when she is most Glorious... my wife gives me much unfilteredness, and I would not have it any other way - I love her more, and our relationship is alive in all this rawness. When we live in the truth of ourselves (and in particular my beautiful-blogging-fanciful-friend), hopefully we have enough equity built up in who we are that the reality of "we are adulterous, and we are murderous", is "of course you are..." - and in turn we are grieved and repentant... It just seems that our scars are lovely and draw people to trust us even more with their "real" hearts. Our dirt has been used to hurt us, the enemy has attempted to destroy us with it... duh.

My friends dirt pushes her stupid button, her shame switch... the dread... it makes her vulnerable for sure and that is a tough place for those of us who's vulnerability has left us as fodder for predators - and where the heck was God then... damn-it... "WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME!" we cry out and before we even get to "ME" in our ferment... we realize our words have put us in great company. Our clinched fist melts as we are linked with Jesus in our pain and our desire for God to rescue us... and as the tears roll down our cheek, He gently wipes them with His thumb as he cups our face in His hands. We turn together and walk up the hill to the house. He puts His arm around us as He covers us with a new robe and He asks for our hand to slip on the ring of His promise... we have one of those cry filled laughs as we open the door to the porch, all the people that love us are there - it is going to be a great evening.

Praise Jebus!

2007-08-07T22:10:00.000-05:00

Jebus prefers the discipline of holiness.
Jebus helps us control our sinful behaviors.
Jebus is a god of order and principle.
Jebus is all about modesty, discretion, and maintaining an even keel.
Jebus leaves the past in the past and directs our focus on an upright tomorrow.
Jebus convicts us through our accountability partners.
Jebus would have used grape juice at the last supper today.
The most important step in leading someone to Jebus, is to pray the sinners prayer with them.
Jebus is all over the cultures of diverse comfort our churches offer today.
The charismatic focus on the ghost and his magical mystery tour... Jebus loves that.
The oneness Pentecostal dogma... Jebus loves that.
The word of faith prosperity message... Jebus loves that.
Forehead slapping healers slaying sinners & saints with laughter and quaking... oh Jebus, let the river flow!
Rosary prayin, Mary worshipin, alter boy lovin celibates... rock on Jebus.
Jebus helps us define our sin in terms of behavior we can control with ghostly conviction and discipline, and don't forget that accountability partner to help you pummel your hope over your cynical addictions.
They sway with make-up colored tears to Jebus songs on PTL... "oh Jebus, my sailor, nothing can stare through you..."
Jebus wants you to tithe your 10%, with a check please, so everyone knows it's you and you can get your appropriate tax refund
Jebus is workin all things together for good, making lemonade, casting from east to west, leaving the past behind, forgiving, forgetting, and waiting for us to have quiet time in a closet.
Jebus understands that church is a business too, needs a good COO to keep the annoyingly necessary staff at the edge of poverty
...
All you need to do is this one, most important thing - Ask yourself, constantly, like when real crisis hits, like you can't find the remote to the TV because your 8 year old lost it... Just ask yourself - What Would Jebus Do!

Alright, that's enough, my cynicism is kicking in and giving me energy to be angry which will infuse me with just enough tension to control my day without the help of God - I will always have Jebus though. What he heck are we doing. Jebus is what Homer nervously refers to our Savior as when church people give him a holy eye! The tenets we hold on to, myself overwhelmingly included, might as well have us praising Jebus because Jesus is often as foreign to us as Eden. Jesus is wild and inviting; disruptive and kind; breaks our hip and drys our tears - He is invisible, but everywhere; silent yet His creation screams our name; He has no immediate physicality and we are to imagine resting in His strong arms. Hope in Jesus is an ambivalent, wild risk. It takes a bit of a rebel to follow, walk with, not constantly doubt, and faithfully love Jesus. Why, any old Lilly-white, church addicted, bible quoter, can lounge on their marshmallow couch drinking from a chocolate syrup spickett while they hum "Jebus loves me". Jesus wants mountain climbers, He is dangerous, wide-eyed, and full of Life... He is Life, there is no other way. I long to find Him in my details and be energized by the zeal of Life He offers in Hope. I want the adventure. To the King! To the Kingdom!