Giving Stuff Away Over Here

     You know I love journals. If you didn't know that, let me tell you, I love journals. Sometimes I impose my love for journals on others. Even if friends are not journalers, I've been known to give them a journal for a birthday or a graduation. It's time to impose once again. Up for grabs are three journals made from vintage books by Jacob at www.bookjournals.com. Make sure you pay his site a visit and find the exact journal that suits you. There are so many to choose from. In the meantime, here's the first of three journals I'm giving away to three lucky readers:

This journal was made from a book called Lands and Peoples from 1961. The cover has a cool texture to the black colors

Inside each journal, Jacob includes plain white paper for writing or drawing, and also incorporates pages from the actual book throughout. 

The next free journal is made from a book called The Happy Hollisters and the Old Clipper Ship from 1956. The cover is actually a deep red though it may appear orangish in the pic. Cool retro art of little kids running in the bottom right hand corner. 

And here we have a classic Hardy Boys book, The Mark on the Door. 

     To win a journal, just leave a comment here on my blog and put in order which one you would like to have the most as your number one pick, then your second, and then your third. Winners will be randomly selected and posted here on my blog. All comments must be posted by 11:59PM October 31.
And don't forget to visit Jacob at www.bookjournals.com or like his facebook page, Ex Libris Anonymous. Good luck!

Life Keeps Happening

 
     Sunday was not a day of rest. Our little adventure continued (little, hmph). We decided to go to church. I was hoping for a line in the pastor's sermon that went something like this: "Even if you were down to one car and now that car is sitting broken down at the 76 station in El Dorado Hills, take heart, because help is on the way. And by the way, here are the keys to a brand new car for the handsome silver-haired guy sitting in the second to last row looking a little disoriented." That didn't happen but maybe if that pastor had prayed more before preaching...
     My mind was spinning, trying to come up with a plan for the day, getting the van re-towed to a Firestone service station since it was just there a couple weeks ago getting a tune up and shouldn't be breaking down on good people, what to do with the kids while we're car shopping, how to get Marty home because of work the next day and a friend's car at our house who was flying in and her key was locked inside our home plus cats in the garage whose food supply was only rationed through Saturday night...  My sister-in-law and her husband were gracious enough to let us borrow their car to get a few things done. I was clueless enough to drive it with the emergency brake on therefore causing smoking brakes by the time we reached our destination. Felt a little stupid about that. Then we were scrambling to get a ride to meet the tow truck driver since he was on his way. Cue my incredible mother-in-law who carted me around for the rest of the afternoon.
     My kids and I are still stranded here in Shingle Springs as our van gets repaired. My mother-in-law left for a trip early this morning so it's just us, no car, no food, no hope... I'm being a bit dramatic. On Saturday night I read a passage that I have reviewed many times in my life. "Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts... and be thankful." I have a part to play in this. God's peace exists. It is found in his presence. I have to decide if I'm going to let it rule in my heart or not. And I need to be thankful. After the smoking brakes debacle, I was recalling this scripture, reminding myself that I need to let the peace of Christ rule in this crazy day, and I need to give thanks. And there was a lot to be thankful for. We had family members that bent over backwards to accommodate us, my kids got extra cousin time, we met with supporters who decided to partner with us financially, a good friend who is in the middle of his own crisis lent us his van so Marty could get home, and the night ended with someone offering us their car to have since they were getting ready to buy a new one.
     Life keeps happening, but that shouldn't only be a reference to the bad stuff. Blessings are a part of life happening, too. So, I'm learning to be thankful for the blessings and trying to be thankful through the difficulties. But check back with me on that if for some reason we don't get home tonight!

Life Happens...

    After my car accident I stood on the side of the freeway waiting for the tow truck, and even in that moment, I knew God would redeem the situation. Yes, my car was totaled, but I knew God would provide for us, or at least take care of us (and God's "least" is huge). Yet, that assuring thought led to a question: If God is going to redeem this, then why did it happen in the first place? Why didn't He prevent it? These weren't questions of doubt, they were just questions I was waiting for the answers for, knowing very well that I may not get the answers and being fine with that, too. I trust my God. I have for decades. Wasn't going to quit now.
     As I mulled over these thoughts, I realized life just happens sometimes. That trailer hitch sticking out in the middle of the freeway lane in the dark morning hour was an example. Life happened and God has redeemed it. I was worried we would only get about $3000.00 at best from our insurance for our 15 year old car. Kelley Blue Book predicted so for a vehicle in "excellent" condition. I didn't know if the appraisers from State Farm would see our car in "excellent" condition, so that left me hoping for the best. For some unknown reason, State Farm saw our car as worth a few thousand more than Kelley Blue Book. Life happened (I wrecked my car), and God redeemed it (way more moolah than I anticipated).
     Some have said everything happens for a reason. I'm not sure I believe everything happens for a reason, but I believe there can be a great purpose birthed out of the happening. Lessons can be learned, growth can occur, thankfulness can spring forth.
     The opposite can also happen. Bad happenings give birth to bitterness, unforgiveness is harbored, and blame is placed. "It's not fair!" we may cry like a child. But life isn't fair! It's just not. We don't always get what we deserve, good or bad. In his book A Grace Disguised,  Jerry Sitser suggests that the universe we live in is a cruel place. Instead of asking, "Why me?" he has learned to say, "Why not me?" He did not come to this philosophy easily, for this is a man whose above mentioned book was inspired by the tragedy of losing his mother, his wife, and one of his little daughters at the hands of a drunk driver. He writes, "The problem of expecting to live in a perfectly fair world is that there is no grace in that world, for grace is grace only when it is undeserved." I'd rather live with opportunities of grace bestowed upon me then getting what is fair all the time. Sometimes "fair" isn't fun.
     My wife and I were discussing this "Life happens and God redeems it" philosophy this afternoon. We were on a fundraising trip. We were headed to pick up our kids, keep one more appointment then hit the road for home... when our only automobile began to sputter and eventually die. Hmph. So now were stranded in Shingle Springs (thankful for a place to stay), repair shops are not open on Sunday (glad the kids are out of school on Monday), and I have no idea what is wrong with our van. I do know this, it was a lot easier to say "Life happens and God redeems it" this afternoon than it was later this evening standing on the side of the road waiting for the tow truck AGAIN... but I still believe it.

If It Sounds Too Good To Be True...

     I got angry tonight. I had plenty of justice juices pumping inside me and I wanted someone to pay for their crimes. We're looking for a second car since my accident several weeks ago. We found a steal on Craigslist, a 2005 mini SUV for $2250. A poor, recently divorced woman needed to sell it quickly because her husband wasn't being very kind to her and she needed the funds. We inquired through email and received a response back that the transaction would happen through Google Wallet "for both of our protection, so please provide your name, mailing address, and phone number." What does she need our address for, I wondered.
     When we got home from church, I looked for the original listing and it was nowhere to be found. That struck me as strange. I started to get suspicious. I went to the Craigslist scam warning page and found an example of a fraudulent post that had several similar components as this dream offer; divorcee,  low price, car in great condition, low mileage, transaction will be handled through another payment service, asking for shipping address.
     I then priced the 2005 make and model of this car on Kelly Blue Book and a car of this style in fair condition sells for 11 grand plus. We stumbled upon a scam. Yeah, the deal was a steal, this put upon "divorcee" was trying to steal from us. And it made me angry. I had flashbacks of feelings after our house was ransacked and robbed in 2009. How DARE they! Who do they think they are? How heartless to take possessions and money that doesn't belong to them. I wanted this "Sarah" person to be found and stopped. I looked up reporting the scam, but I realized they've probably already set up another email account and are waiting for the next potential pigeon. I probably wasn't going to get my serving of justice around this. Simmer down, justice juices.

     At dinner, before discovering the swindle, I said the blessing over our food and threw in there an inquiry to God for wisdom about this car. I'm thankful He quickened me regarding the details of this "sale." And I realized this was uncharted territory for me. All my life my parents have been involved in providing or helping to finance a vehicle for me. This is my first time venturing into Cars Land without them. My anger turned to thankfulness as I remembered my incredible parents who were not too good to be true. And now I'm left thinking about them. Sigh (but a good sigh).

The Marty Poem

This month hosts my wife Marty's birthday. I recently came across this poem I wrote for her back in 1999 when we lived in a little one bedroom apartment pre-kids. Couldn't wait to share it...

M is for the merry times that I think are so neat,
A is for the arches on your sweet and petite feet.
R is for the romance that in these walls abide,
T is for the teasing that you love deep down inside.
Y is for the years gone by, 31 to be exact,
C is for the counseling for the disturbed and whacked (posting as is, unedited in all its mature glory).
O is for the opposites we are and I must say,
U is for your underwear I folded just today (This happens to be true right now in 2012 as well).
C is for the caring and compassion you convey,
H is for, um, "Happy" that goes with your birthday!

So glad you were born, my Beautiful Marty. Happy Birthday.

Makes You Think

     I was out the door at 5AM this morning headed to Fernly, NV. I had a window (speaking opportunity) that would last fifteen minutes and I hoped to make some good contacts while there. Then I was going to drive home all in one day. That would have been a first. It was kind of a challenge that I was looking forward to accomplishing, driving all that distance in one day. It wasn't to be.
     I got on the freeway and the world was still dark. There were a few other motorists on the road but not the swarms there would be in an hour or so. I was driving along at the normal freeway speed when I don't know what happened. I hit something, hard, and I said out loud, "Oh my gosh!" (I know if Hollywood made a movie out of it, they would definitely be re-writing my rated G dialogue). Something was in the middle of the freeway lane that couldn't be seen and it sent me in to a chaotic suspended animation. For a few seconds, I didn't know what was going to happen. I was very aware that my life could be over as my car felt very out of control at 65 miles per hour. So I waited to see what would become of this, of me. In the midst of it, I was able to steer the car to the side of the road, collect myself and call 911. I heard other cars driving by that were hitting pieces of whatever it was that I just did, when a truck skidded to the side of the road just like I had. As he approached me, he didn't hesitate to use a more PG kind of language. He had no idea happened either.
     As we waited for the police officer and the sun began to rise, we could finally lay our eyes on what was obstructing the freeway lane, one of those giant Cal-trans sign trailers, the ones that are supposed to warn you of things on the road like closures and construction. Someone had even struck it before me but couldn't do anything from the side of the road as they watched me collide with it.

     I'm fine, for now. Don't know how I'll be feeling tomorrow, but I've been in kind of a fog today. I think back to those few seconds when I didn't know how it was going to turn out. Many have had those few seconds. Some lived to tell about it, some didn't. Those few seconds make you think. I'm very thankful I'm here tonight to write about this. Grateful that I was able to walk away from this accident, and though I didn't make it to Fernly, NV, I did make it home in time to walk my kids to school. Thankful for walking. Thankful for kids. Just grateful to be alive.

This is what I hit. 

So long, "Ingrid." You were a good car.

   

It's Only Hair

   
     Money's tight, so when I walk past a sign that says "$8 haircuts for men by Vivian," I take notice. Never mind that the salon used to be called "Lovely Lady Coiffures." It is now "International Hair and something something." AND, Viv only charges 8 bucks. This was a place I had to patronize at least once. I had a gut feeling it would be an experience to remember.
     When I walked in, Viv was casually sweeping the floor and told me to take a seat. As I settled in, Viv kept sweeping, veeeery casually, and then started to prep her hair cutting tools. She asked me what I wanted and I pointed to a picture on the wall and said, "Just do what that guy has." Right as she was about to clip my sides, the phone rings and I wondered if Viv would be the type to answer the phone in the middle of a hair cut. Viv goes and answers the phone and starts giving directions in her native tongue very loudly to the caller. Apparently, they weren't getting in on the other end, so Viv kept repeating herself and got louder each time. Once she returned she told me that they were here from New York and she didn't have time to see them, so they were coming to the shop. Yes, Viv would be entertaining family during my hair cut.
     Viv finally took the clippers to my head but suddenly stopped and said, "Sorry," and something else I couldn't understand because the clippers were right next to my ear, but I was thinking "Sorry" isn't really what you want to hear come out of your haircutter's mouth.
     Then the family arrived and as she was still clipping, she shouted out some greetings or instructions to her loved ones. And sure enough, she walks over to them and continues the not so light banter. But I just kept thinking, "8 bucks for this experience."
     Viv returned and asked me if my hair was short enough. As I checked out the top, no, it wasn't, She suggested using some gel, but I had her take some more off. As she did, she says, "Oh, I see what I did." Again, not something you want to hear from your hair cutter. Then she muttered something about my gray hair. I'm just going to assume that she was calling it distinguished.
     As she wrapped it up, she was blowing the hair off me with a hair dryer, and as I stood up and was walking away, she was still blowing the hair off me with the hair dryer. I paid my 8 bucks plus tip and was on my way, but not before Vivian said to me, "Come again."
     Once I got home and on further inspection, I found that Vivian took me literally when I said, "No sideburns." She had raised my sideburns higher than they have ever been in my life. Now I know what she was apologizing about. But it's just hair, and it was only 8 bucks and quite a memory. And the crazy thing is, in a month I'll probably be visiting Viv again and paying 8 bucks for another experience. The even crazier thing is, I'll probably be taking my son!

I Just Want to Help People

     I started attending seminary classes mostly out of convenience. My denomination's theological seminary was opening a branch at the church where I was on staff. And we were given scholarships and a discount for enrolling in classes. Hey, why not? But could I do it? I had three kids five and under, like under my feet, in addition to a full-time ministry. I hadn't been in school for fourteen years. Could I do this? I took it one class at a time.
    In one of those classes, I observed my professor's passion for the topic. Being a father and husband in a blended family, he was driven to help others affected by divorce. This class was designed to equip us as pastors to minister to this population in the church and their special needs. The professor was so... impassioned! There's no other word. He lived out the painful experience he was teaching us about. He studied the topic, he wrote books and materials and started a ministry. As I sat in one of his sessions, being remarkably impressed by him, I said to myself, "I just want to help people." I'll never forget that moment. I wasn't feeling called to that specific people group (though I have used the information gleaned in that class on several occasions), but I just felt impressed to help others. I didn't know who or what issues I would be tackling, I just wanted to help in a way that I hadn't before.
     As the years passed and our focus in ministry became more clear, I transferred to a university that offered a Master's in Pastoral Counseling. This resonated with me. In other classes I would get A minuses and B's, but I got solid A's in all my counseling classes, affirming that impression of just wanting to help people.

     About an hour ago I finished my Master's program. Recalling the last four years and working on this task boggles my mind. We took a trip to Disneyland and played all day then I had to study all night. When we went back to Springfield, IL to be commissioned as US Missionaries, I lugged my heavy textbooks on the plane because there were book reports to write and discussion board posts to create. On my first fundraising tour, I would get up early in the morning to get some homework done before driving off to my appointments. We left our home church of 17 years. We established a non-profit ministry. We were living life and all the while I had looming due dates and tests to take. But now, the last test has been taken. I have finished. This is probably as close to an awards show as I'll ever get so...
     I'd like to first thank my God for seeing me through. There were several times I didn't think I could do this and I begged Him for help. And He helped. I want this to be for His glory and purposes.
     I'd like to thank my wife for her support and belief in me. I know it's cliche' but it doesn't make it any less true: I could not have done this without her.
     My kids... Now I don't have to tell them "no, because I have homework," or "don't bother me, I'm taking a test!" I know they're grateful for that.
     I'd like to thank my professors, each one bringing a unique dynamic to my experience. Each of their names have been logged in my journal and the notebooks saved, so they can be credited when necessary in the future.
     And I would like to dedicate this achievement to my parents. This is when it gets hard, when they're not here to witness these things, but I know no one would be more proud of this accomplishment than those two dear and dearly missed people.
     So, now what? I just want to help people.
   

Friday the 13th, Graduations, and Anniversaries

     June 13 is a significant date for me. I graduated from high school on Friday the 13th. I heard a rumor that some girl from another city wasn't allowed to participate in her graduation ceremonies because she was seated in the 13th row and the 13th chair. It also happened to be my parents' wedding anniversary. I was their fourth and only kid who walked the line, so I think that was a good present for them. As I waited for my name to be called, I tried to work up the nerve to take the mic and say "Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad." What would they do, take my diploma away? Suspend me? Suspend me from what? I was done with that place! I couldn't work up the nerve to step up to the mic, so I did the next best thing: I yelled my sentiment at the top of my lungs after receiving my diploma. Friday the 13th of June 1986 was a pretty good day all around.
     Twenty-four years later I found myself at a different kind of graduation ceremony. I had been on staff at one church for sixteen and a half years, but my last Sunday had come. So, on June 13, 2010, I said my final good-bye to that congregation. I felt like I had grown up there. Lots of milestones occurred for me. I was married, all three of my kids were born, I lost my parents... In my last sermon I told the church the story about my high school graduation and how I screamed my congrats to my parents. And since I was graduating from that place on the same date, I whispered through my tears as I looked up to heaven, "Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad."
     In summary, June 13 is a significant date for me... Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad.

To Zzzz or Not to Zzzz?

I'm at my mother-in-laws' house with my oldest daughter. The other two are staying at their cousins' tonight. I had some fund-raising appointments and I brought the kids along so they could have extended family time and to give my wife a couple days of peace and rest. Julia usually shares a bed with her sister here at Gramma's, but Ella is not here. I was tucking Julia in and she subtly let me know that she didn't want to sleep by herself all the way down the long hallway where her room is when she stays here. I asked her if she wanted to sleep with me. "Maybe." She's too cool to admit she's a little afraid to sleep alone. She won't dare admit that she misses her sister. But she clearly conveyed that she still needs her dad. So, I'll be bunking with my daughter tonight. It may not be the most restful night of sleep for me, but sleep wasn't the priority when these new arrangements were made. Good night.