Let Your Workplace Be Effective – Kindness Thoughts

Written on September 14, 2015

Maybe the reason is busyness that kindness exists as a thing of the past. In 2015, we have computers to make us faster, smarter. We have cell phones to keep us connected and available. Technology, while impressive, is also unbearably impersonal and this holds detrimental conclusions to communication in the workplace. We communicate more and often in a hurry, but we communicate worse – everyone out for his own, covering his own, pushing, shoving, tossing folks under the big yellow rumbling bus, and in that overflow and chaos and worse, kindness is lost.

How can this downward spiral of over technological communication and the overtaking of impersonal affectedness stop or at least slow?

Recognize each person in the work environment has their own work chaos or busyness – all departments tend to think their roses are most important. A flower is a flower, even the weeds and the breeze blows through them all… Sometimes torrential rain and gale force winds. Still flowers. Still doing their job of being flowers regardless of wind or breeze.

Get up out of the chair and go speak to folks … Facial expressions and body language account for 93% of communication. Only 7% is words … And that 7 is dissected between written and oral. Go talk to people face to face!

It is not necessary to “cc” everyone and the kitchen sink in emails. Hold the unnecessary drama down to a low roar. Don’t get management involved unless there’s blood or a moral dilemma. They have enough to worry about … Including your tattling self. Better believe if you are tossing folks under the bus, they’ll be looking to pull you under too. And management knows.

Realize each department is a part of the same train, the same body, the same necessary whole. Work together not against … Or the whole thing jumps the tracks, limps when it walks, just doesn’t function as it should … As it could!

Remember … Every position is irreplaceable but every worker is replaceable. Don’t be replaceable. Be a positive change maker. Be a communicator. Be a force of kindness.
Know the beauty of LinkedIn. Yes, it is a brilliant place to store your resume and collect references, to make connections and expand opportunities … Be aware too that LinkedIn shows who has read your profile … And when it’s multiple times over … It can become stalkerish. Just a just sayin’ from personal experience.

Follow the Golden Rule. Christian or not … this principle is priceless. Treat others the way you want to be treated. Period.

There is enough work to be done in any workplace without unnecessary drama. Think of how much more effective the workplace where folks choose to think before they speak, to put company needs over and above their own, to be kind. To simply be kind.

Let your workplace be effective. It starts with one … Then two … The ripple effect …

That Mammogram Though

Published on September 16, 2015

The dreaded squeeze – suction that begins in the armpit and pulls the breast forward as the hard plastic shelf comes down to meet the metal stationary shelf below, the two forgetting there’s flesh in between them in their eagerness to close together. The fleshy breast conforms flattened between shelves as an ache unlike any other moves from armpit to mammary glands … All portions of breast crying out for release from imprisonment. The rest of the body stands paralyzed. All sensation centered in first the right breast … And then the left … And then, oh, the right again only this time altered … Sideways as a moment of freedom succumbs to new levels of ache as the machine rotates to the side, the technician’s hands push at flesh, forcing it, pushing breast tissue, reshaping skin like moldable clay, and unforgivingly the shelving jaws clamp back in the effort of both plastic and metal shelves to meet regardless of fleshly imposition. Tugging, squeezing, they push to meet giving no care for what lies between … And the body conforms to the machine in an arm draped hug, more like a clinging for life, hoping in some way to obey just enough, to offer servitude to the machine, a promise to conform just to be granted release. No moving for fear of extending the time. Draped. Suspended. Imprisoned. Then … Release. Deep breath. Inflation of the right breast as it struggles to regain shape … A moment of relief and then the left’s time of degradation comes.

Paroled for brief moments while the warden doctor reviews the scans … Hands wring, feet tap, nerves pulse sounding in ears, scenarios race through the mind in what-ifs and how longs, and blood pressure rises while breasts ache, hang low, work to reform and shape, feeling a portion of what once was, now gone forever to the manacled grip of the machine.

And the door opens. The technician returns.

Anticipation. Anxiety. The moment crawls by.

Released for a year. But only a year.

Ice cream was had this day!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Don’t procrastinate this ordeal. It’s necessary torture. Survivable and there’s ice cream to be had upon completion! At your own expense of course. Make your appointment. Have your exam. Know what’s happening with your body. Be proactive. If I can do it … So can you.

“She {Meaning Me} Just Thinks She’s a Biker Chick”

Written 3 years and 4 months ago. Wow, time flies. Still the Biker Momma. Only now, I need a bike to ride … patience, Girl. Patience.

Written on September 28, 2015

Possibly there’s some plausibility to what she said … because I’m just not sure if it’s spelled chic or chick.

So, I go with “momma” … biker momma.

I am after all the biological mother of 6 and mother to many … hence the term “momma.”

[The man I was married to] is a person who rides a Harley Davidson, therefore he bikes, making him a biker … and I sit behind him on the bike when he ‘bikes’ or when he’s a biker … therefore, it follows that I am, when on the bike, a biker’s companion, which is preferably not the correct choice of wording and then leads to the ‘biker chick’ reference so often heard … Biker babe, biker chick, biker momma …whichever. I’ll take it. Whichever. Whatever.

I have my own helmet, leather jacket, weatherproof jacket, rain gear pants, biker gloves, and two pair of motorcycle boots, one of which is Harley, and then two other pair of Harley Davidson amazingness of boots … with 3-4″ heels. You’re darn-tootin’. My choicest of clothing every day and even in the dead of heat through this past summer is/was my Harley Davidson hoodie. It goes everywhere with me – bling and all. Totally into the rhinestones.

The feeling of wind in my face is irreplaceable in my favorite things list. The roar of the bike, the bikes, the leather, the freedom, the road … the realness of folks deemed bikers – nothing like those people. Nothing. Raw. Real. Leather and bandana-clad, a little bit of crazy – some a lotta bit of crazy … all of it. It suits me.

Getting caught in a torrential downpour of angry rain with no shelter in sight on a lonely stretch of highway … and I thought it was amazing – over twenty minutes of pelting, soaking-ness with no escape. There’s that crazy. I’ve never been so wet. Not gonna jump out and ride in the rain again on purpose necessarily, but I wasn’t afraid. It is what it is.

My accessibility to the sunset as we blazed down the highway and I sat mesmerized there on the back of the bike – just me and the setting sun and the roar of the bike as its tires rolled down the highway … no one can talk to me there. I don’t have to talk to anyone there. It’s quiet in the noise. My time. My mind. My free space. Air. Roar. Speed. Yes, please.

Maybe I come across as sweet, introverted, passive, naïve, the atypical English teacher … and that’s fine – most of it is learned behavior on my part – who others expect to me be so I’ve played that part very well. I get it and that’s cool – well, mostly. Just never assume you know all there is to know about a person. Be careful what you assume … you know what that means.

My response to “She just thinks she’s a biker chick” was to smile and inward eye roll …

We are all capable of many things.

I’ll just smile and go on with what I’ve got to do. Then, at the end of the day, hike my leg up and over the back of that Harley, settle in behind him, turn up the 80s love ballads in my ears, and go for a ride … to wherever. It never much matters. It’s the going ….

A Letter to the Man Who Cursed Out My 16-Year Old Daughter

Written on September 29, 2015

Despite your shenanigans, I will not let you steal my day. You did. For a while.

On the way to the high school this morning, Kadi was driving – being that she has her permit and all and is 16. We needed to make a left and there was oncoming traffic. I would have gone at one point, but she hesitated so I told her to wait. All good. UNTIL you, the joker behind us in your little red wannabe truck, started blasting his horn and screaming obscenities out the window at us.

F** this. F*** you. M*** F***ers.

On and on. Continuous honking. Still, cars coming, she can’t turn. In an effort to calm your obvious disdain for the seconds of waiting you had to endure, I mouthed back to you, in all sweetness, she’s sixteen and gave you the just one minute sign. To which I was flipped off and the obscenities grew louder and the horn repetitive and angry.

People standing on corners around us stared while you ugly yelled. Stood and stared they did. Then, finally, after what was an eternity of your F*** bomb tirade, she was able to turn, and you, instead of moving forward, stopped there in the road behind us, blocking the traffic behind you on Woodson to be precise, and leaned out of your truck window to continue your intelligent barrage of anger and limited vocabulary.

I get that although the F*** word is quite useful as varying parts of speech, it does not tend toward intelligence. An entire sentence composed of just that word fell from your mouth …. well, not fell – burst forth like a bat out of fiery hell. Your face was all red. Fist flying. Near heart attack heightening of attitude. And that word … ugh that word … F*** you F*** while F*** and F*** and then F***. Sir, this is, perhaps, an excellent example of poor language and communication skills.

Thanks, dude. Just thanks. And … I hope you feel good and manly and masculine and justified at your behavior – berating and cursing out a 16-year-old novice driver. Go you. Way to go you. You’ve left an impression on her forever.

Go on with your wannabe man-truck and its diminutive size and get where you want to be in such a hurry. My

daughter has now had her first driving encounter with selfish stupidity. She did nothing wrong. In fact, she did everything right. She was being a safe driver.

But you … you’ve probably spent your whole day cursing us for the slowing down of your rush to be somewhere at 7:45 a.m. Whatevs. You stole a part of my day. And I let you. Shame on me for that.

And shame on you for cursing out a 16-year-old child. Still, in that shame on you, I wish you well. And I wish you peace and the ability to not give yourself a heart-attack much too young … if something as minor as waiting in traffic for the car in front of you to turn left can escalate you in that way … You are a man in need of help, medical help, therapy, something.

And that was just the beginning of my day …. it’s been a day.

Sincerely,
Mother of the 16-year-old driver you cursed out this morning

How to be Friends with Republicans and Democrats

“If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”

Romans‬ ‭12:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

That’s the mandate. It goes with that Love Your Neighbor as Yourself thing spoken by Jesus himself.

How does that translate into politics? As if politics were higher than either of these two verses and the commands within … Smh.

Treat others with respect. We do have differences in how we see the political spectrum and that is fine and good. Building on differences is where beauty and accomplishment lie. One sided-ness gets nothing done. Perspectives are necessary and respect given to those is without exception imperative and essential to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

I have my own political leanings – don’t talk openly about them much. But I read, I study, I devour the news, stay up on what’s what because I feel it essential to beneficial living. Knowing. Voting. Having rational debates among political others … Even when what you say makes no sense to me at all. No sense. At all. And I want to literally tilt my head sideways while you speak and make Tim Allen noises. You believe what you believe. It won’t happen – I won’t do that. I can respect your opinion and then determine how best to move forward in love and respect.

My friends range all over the political spectrum from the far left to the far right. None do I love more or less because of political belief. We see things through different glasses and that’s cool … That’s necessary. That’s democracy.

Never letting it be divisive – that’s a goal of mine. Eternal relationships far outweigh the temporal. In that, the mandates of Christ reign supreme over political correctness or decision. That Love Your Neighbor thing … It stretches beyond agreement into compromise and compassion. Solutions. Unity.

Call me simplistic. That’s cool.

I’m open to discussion of political topics wherein we can share, discuss, find answers, challenge perspectives, but let them not color how we love beyond what is earthly matter. Once anger steps in … I’ve no interest any more beyond what does God care about in this.

To know that, let’s get out The Word and line up political principles against what is infallible.

For instance:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:8-9‬ ‭NIV‬‬

http://bible.com/111/php.4.8-9.niv

Definitional argument may ensue and that is fine … As long as love as respect remains on the table between. Against such love, there is no law. Jesus said so.

25th High School – Reunion Recap

I cannot believe this was 3 years ago. My 25th High School Reunion. 3 years ago.

Written on October 26, 2015

25 years didn’t feel like a day had passed. The Saturday night reunion party flew too quick. Lots of laughter. Good food. Friends. It was worth the 8-hour drive! In fact – it should happen more often – simply because it’s so enjoyed. By everyone.

Didn’t even mind that the weather messed up the plans for the Wilkett Ranch – not that that wouldn’t have been incredible, because it would have! But the go with the flow was a giant “Yes” and we adjusted to the oh, so splenticular HiWay Inn and its neon red “Open” sign on front. See, it was so easy to adjust that I had to make up a word to describe it.

I had my Jackie with me. Jackie didn’t graduate from McAlester High School, but she did go through 8th grade with us before she moved away. What fun to see people say, “Jackie?!?!” and see the smile light her face! Oh, I love that girl. Jackie, Lana, and I grew up running our neighborhood together – playing in the cemetery. Yes, that might be what’s wrong with us. 🙂 Years don’t change some friendships – especially not so many formed and forged in that small town in Southeastern Oklahoma. I talked to some, just enjoyed seeing others – comforted by the presence of “home” in their faces – and in the conversation of friends. Loved being told by Clay and Dirk that of all people they’d never expected me to be the one riding on the back of a Harley. We just never know about people, y’all. I was hibernating in high school – loved it, but the shy-girl thing was somewhat a cover. Watched you all, I did. Loved you too.

Wanda Jean. Girl. You bless my heart. Time just does nothing to friendship. It was so good to laugh with you, this time with beverages in hand … now that we’re ‘grown’. And Angela – thank you for sitting with me a few. Loved our chat.

I had my boys with me there too. Yes, I took my three youngest boys to McAlester with me, but I mean my Eric, Grant, and Walt. Missing Justin. You should have been there, Justin. And Brad. To see Eric, Grant, and Walt was life. So much of who I am and what I remember most from those growing up years centers on friendships with those guys. Eric’s decided that our “group” – the nerd set and we shall call it what it is – all existed, still exists, somewhere on the Autism spectrum. Hilarious – and true – as the mother of two on the Autism spectrum I concur and exclaim it to be beyond fantastic! Folks with a ‘difference” rock. Love them – my McAlester boys. Love them all. We, in all of our uniqueness, suited one another perfectly and drove each other to succeed in class and beyond. I’m jealous that those three keep in such touch – live in the same areas – and I’m so far away. Dallas looks better and better to me. Warm, great friends, it’s Texas – that in and of itself is amazing, and lots to do and find wonderful … but mostly the relationships. Guys, I love you. Thanks for loving me. So good to hug you, laugh with you, be so relaxed and real. Truly a blessing and that evening I will carry with me for a long, long time. Especially the … egnuoL.

The fact that grandparents walked among us made me laugh too. Blessings to all of the grandparents who graduated with us. 1990 Seems like yesterday but the title Grandparent brings reality back to the forefront. Congratulations Angela and Bernard and so many others. My time has so not arrived yet … one day. My 6 kiddos will produce at some point … just not yet! 🙂 Then again, being such an amazingly young grandparent … that’s kindof the bomb. Rile them up. Send them home. Sweet.

Dixie, it was my pleasure and honor to give you a hug from my Momma. She loves you so – has the sweetest memories of you. That blesses me – I love to share my Momma. She’s a gem, that Mrs. Hinkle. And speaking of Momma’s – to get a bear hug from Becky’s Momma, sweet Sarah Painter, was a highlight for me! Amazing lady! Such the mom to so many of us!

Despite the good size group we had Saturday night, many faces were missing cause they just didn’t come! Y’all know who you are. We missed you. Melanie. Heather, Angie, Julie, Marc, Trey, William, Ryan D., Ryan V, Dennis, the Bess boys, GARY – though we talked to him on the phone Friday night!, Kristi C F, and Kristi P and the list goes on and on … NEXT time, everyone must come – and maybe for those who can’t, a Skype area can be set up! That has potential!

Such an event it was. Relaxed. No pressures, just good food, music, sweatshirts, and a dance floor. I say the next one goes in much the same way, Becky, … maybe even the same venue … despite it’s spur of the momentness, it was perfect. Who needs an open bar and fancy-ness. Not any of us – there was plenty to go round! Paul and Jenifer – thank you so much for what y’all did to bring it together!

Pat Stone – you make me laugh. Someone needs to get that man a new box of crayons.

You know, in St. Louis, the thing to ask someone is “Where’d you go to High School?” like it’s a status symbol. I’m always pleased to say “McAlester, Oklahoma” and endure the quizzical, “how could you not be from here” looks that I get. Wouldn’t change where I’m from. Once a Buffalo always a Buffalo. To those of you there – it was good to see you. Even if we didn’t speak to each other … Angela Dana, Denise Lawrence, the Wilketts, Richard Cornish, Jermaine Johnson, Emanuel Campbell. Yeah, I saw you. It made me smile to see you – so glad to be there with you. Maybe my introverted side kicked into gear. Maybe the shy-ness isn’t such a ruse as I stated before … maybe it is and I just love to people watch. Tis where I get fuel for the writing. Somehow I never quite know, but I was grateful you were there – every last one of you and I know I’ve not named everyone … thought about sitting down with the photo and doing that, but I’m just going to add it here.

Six hours passed so fast. I know much happened. Conversations galore. Pat Stone just said on FB that he didn’t want the night to end. I concur. There was an empty feeling inside as I drove along Lake Eufaula headed back to my now-home. So many more conversations to have. People to hug. Lives to share. Just … thanks y’all. Thanks for such a great night and more than that, for the growing up, for the relationships, for all of the fun.

It touched me that at the close of the evening, everyone took a balloon outside into the dark and released the balloons into the nigh sky in honor of those student’s who’ve passed away in the 25 years since we graduated high school together – calling out their names – which please add in the comment sections under this post on FB. I’m going to put this on our Group page there. After the balloons, a prayer circle formed and a blessing given by Dani Sharp over everyone there. Lovely. Thank you for that, Dani. Thank you so much for that.

What an evening. Thanks, y’all.

Words and I are Friends

Written on November 1, 2015

The subtitle – “Freeing Your Life With Words” caught my attention at the teacher’s store while I perused the clearance section – PoemCrazy by Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge. Freeing my life with words? Yes, please. I love words. Words are life. Combinations and platters of words – I find myself caught up in them, tasting them, enjoying them, sharing them with folks who blankly stare back at me wondering at my level of sanity. That’s okay. Words and I are friends and I don’t need a whole lot of others. Words and I do just fine. Written words … most of the time. So I bought it – let’s free me.

Written word is my vehicle. Only with a microphone in hand am I any good at oral expression – odd that it requires an audience for the flow of words in my mind to roll forth unencumbered by second-guessing. Perhaps it is in a speech environment where there is no time for editing that that function of my brain sleeps and words fall from my lips as if dripping from a pen or fingertips to a keyboard. Written word. Words. Beautiful, powerful, expressive words dolled up language strewn together for telling all about a thing or all about you or about me.

Full Moon Me is the chapter my classes travel through with me in English Composition I … reason being … in Susan’s words, “We have to start with ourselves before we can reach beyond ourselves. And whatever our intention, the way we see and write about the world always reveals who we are.” How we write, what we write about … reveals self. In the classroom, the lesson that to write well, you begin with you is essential. Mine, dig, ask yourself who you are and write it. Let the words go. Discover what you believe and how you move through the words you choose … “we can make discoveries when we put our feelings about ourselves into words,” says my friend-though-she-doesn’t-know-it Susan.

The practice she poses for workshop sessions, for classroom experience, is a collection of words … to put to paper the words that first come to mind at the questions I will post here below with my own answers attached.

If I were a color, what color would I be? Navy blue – deep, dark, cool

What shape would I be? something complicated – a pretzel.

If I were a movement, what movement would I be? ocean water – crashing, then rolling, always changing, never the same

What sound? Wind in autumn trees

What animal? An elephant – graceful and imposing

What song? Total Eclipse of the heart … goes with navy I think …

What number? twenty-three- favorite – birthday number

What car? my 1985 Nissan Maxima … she was me; I was her.

What piece of furniture? comfy armchair facing an open window

What food? enchilada smothered in white cheese

What musical instrument? electric guitar

What place? Mountain lake with pine trees all around

What element in nature? snow … falling unique and cold wherever it wants

What kind of tree? Sycamore with its peeling bark

What’s something I’m afraid of? Losing myself inside myself

What’s the word hiding behind my eyes? anxiety

And then … to write about you using the answers above – only add in action verbs that describe you as well … laugh, hide, tease, play, hold … Adjectives … emotional, silent, silly, warm, hopeful.

Combining them all beginning with “I am …” and not to use it all, but some … certain parts … those that sing to me in this moment …

I am a laughing Sycamore

standing tall against the navy sky

hiding oceans of anxiety – crashing, churning

inside myself

emotional, hopeful, ever stretching to an open window

where i see joy

Me, today. In words. How about you? What might your “I am” become? Let words show you yourself as I see my very soul here in these words and you may not understand or see, but I do. And I know. Words. They are my friends. Thank you, Susan, for this tool … each time, something new.

This week, my students will write their “I am” poem – Wednesday evening, I await you with eagerness.

We’re All Screwed Up … So There’s That.

To a particular young man,

Right now you don’t believe that you have value and you’ve filled your mind with self-doubt. Theologies, philosophies, this and that, these claw at your very soul and in that you tear at yourself and punch at yourself because you just don’t measure up … to yourself. I see you. Actually, I don’t physically see you because you’re hiding yourself, but I see you.

You say I can’t. You say I just don’t know. You say I don’t understand. Can’t understand. You call yourself a piece of shit. You say I have no idea what you’ve done.

I know what I need to know, nothing more do I need, because this is what I know …

Saul, before he became Paul, persecuted Christians – holding the robes of those who stoned Stephen to death for his belief.

Jonah, filled with disgust for those God wanted to save, fled from the Lord.

Elijah was consumed with depression and hid in the hills/mountains/desert.

Thomas doubted that Christ was who he said he was.

David took another man’s wife to bed and then had her husband killed.

Moses swore he could never voice God’s words and tried to argue with God.

Adam and Eve … well, they were hard-headed and wanted to do things their own way.

Moses – also cursed a rock because it didn’t supply the miracle fast enough.

David also danced in the streets in his underwear.

Abraham lied in fear for his life – told the King that Sarah was his sister not his wife.

Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery and lied and said he was dead.

Jeremiah lived a life of depression – woe is me to the max. You think you’re depression is bad … He even wrote a book we have in the Bible called Lamentations.

Abraham also doubted God and took his wife’s hand-maid to bed to produce an heir

Jacob disguised himself as his brother and lied to his elderly father about his identity to receive the inheritance blessing … at his mother’s urging nonetheless.

Samson hung out with less than reputable characters – namely women like Delilah.

Peter denied Christ three times in the garden.

Mary Magdalene was a prostitute

Noah got naked drunk – his sons uncovered him and laughed ..

Rahab was a prostitute.

Tamar caused her father-in-law to impregnate her.

Jepthah made a rash vow to God and lost his daughter.

Matthew was a tax collector and Zacchaeus was a tax collector – both of them – money grubbers.

And examples from Scripture of flawed men and women go on and on … none of us is perfect. All of us are P.O.S.’s apart from the saving Grace of God. That’s the key. And that is what you in your pursuit of high and lofty theological ideals need to understand … grace. Mercy. Favor bestowed when wrath is owed. Romans 3:23 says, For all have sinned and fall short of the Glory of God. All. Not just you. Me too.

We all are looked on by the same God with the same love … just as he loved all of the folks listed above. Despite their failings, each one of those listed here GOD used – look them up. Read their stories. Reading the Word is not something you’ve attacked just yet, though you’ve read the great religious thinkers and philosophers. That’s great and all, but I challenge you to read of Moses, Joshua, Abraham, Noah. Read about Rahab, Ruth, Esther. Read about Ezekiel, Gideon, Deborah. Read about the woman caught in the act of adultery. Read the story of Job. Read Isaiah. Learn about Hosea and Gomer. They are all a part of the story woven into the threads and fabric of the good news God chose to share with this abominable humanity that roams the earth … to declare His love and His mercy for this flawed and sinful human race … to whom He gave, because of His unconditional love, the ability to choose.

I say all of this to say one thing …. You are valuable.

You are good. You are created. You are loved.

Romans 8:38-39 [Full Chapter]

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Amen.

Oh … and here are a few more I found …. those good ol’ humans who’ve gone on before. Taken from http://www.sermoncentral.com/pastors-preaching-articles/ron-forseth-20-messed-up-bible-heroes-and-what-we-can-learn-from-them-1613.asp

Adam, the first man, was a blame shifter who couldn’t resist peer pressure. (Genesis 3:12)Eve, the first woman, couldn’t control her appetite and, should we say, had the first eating disorder? (Genesis 3:6)
Cain, the first born human being, murdered his brother. (Genesis 4:8)

Noah, the last righteous man on earth at the time, was a drunk who slept in the nude. (Genesis 9:20-21)

Abraham, the forefather of faith, let other men walk off with his wife on two different occasions. (Genesis 12 and 20)

Sarah, the most gorgeous woman by popular opinion, let her husband sleep with another woman and then hated her for it. (Genesis 16)

Lot, who lost his father early in life, had a serious problem with choosing the wrong company. (Genesis 18-20)

Job, supposedly a contemporary of Abraham and the epitome of faith, suffered from the nagging of a faithless wife. (Job 2:9)

Isaac, who was nearly killed by his father, talked his wife into concealing their marriage. (Genesis 26)

Rebekah, the first “mail order bride,” turned out to be a rather manipulative wife. (Genesis 27)

Jacob, who out-wrestled God, was pretty much a pathological deceiver. (Genesis 25, 27, 30)

Rachel, who wrote the book on love at first sight, was a nomadic kleptomaniac. (Genesis 31:19)

Reuben, the pride and firstborn of Jacob, was a pervert who slept with his father’s concubine. (Genesis 35:21)

Moses, the humblest man on the face of the earth (Numbers 12:13), had a very serious problem with his temper. (Exodus 2, 32:19; Numbers 20:11)

Aaron, who watched Jehovah triumph over Pharaoh, formed an abominable idol during an apparent episode of attention deficit disorder or perhaps colossal amnesia. (Exodus 32)

Miriam, the songwriter, had sibling jealousy and a greed for power. (Numbers 12)

Samson, who put Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jesse Ventura to shame, was hopelessly enmeshed with a disloyal wife—and ended up taking his own life. (Judges 16)

Eli, who ruled over Israel, was a hopelessly incapable father who lost his sons to immorality—and to an untimely death. (1 Samuel 2, 4)

Saul, the first and powerful king of Israel, was apparently a psychotic with manic bursts of anger, episodes of deep depression and traces of paranoia, too. He committed suicide. (1 Samuel 16, 18, 19, 31)

David, the friend of God, concealed his adultery with a murder. (2 Samuel 11)

Solomon, the wisest man in the world, was arguably the world’s greatest sex addict with 1,000 sexual partners. (1 Kings 11)

With rare exception, all the kings that followed Solomon had mammoth issues in their lives.

Hosea, an incredibly forgiving man, grappled with the pain of a wife who could be described as a nymphomaniac.

The prophets, even as they spoke for God, struggled with impurity, depression, unfaithful spouses and broken families.

So, yeah.

Love you.

You’re alright.

I promise.

We’re all screwed up … so there’s that. It’s awesome. You’re cool. I’m cool. We’re all here to love and be loved.

39. Give an Example of How Commas Save Lives

Written on November 11, 2015

(Question 39 on the Communications Cluster Mid-term – to which I received the following response) …

“This comma was walking along a bridge on a cold autumn night when suddenly it heard a large SPLASH! A period had fallen into the frigid water and could not swim due to its shape. The comma sprung into action – diving in, using its tail to paddle them both to safety. The period thanked the comma and the two continued on their separate ways.”

So … yeah.

I was going for “Let’s eat Grandma” OR “Let’s eat, Grandma” …. but, um, I think he wins.

What Are You Willing To Die For?

Written on November 16, 2015

This question bothers me. Not because I don’t know the answer – the Sunday School answer or my ‘real’ answer/s. It plagues me because, from what is evidenced by most Americanized/Westernized people is a lack of conviction – a moral center – that willingness to die for belief – and this is a problem in today’s immediacy.

The world has a common enemy in ISIS or as our President says, ISIL. The truest danger of that organization is conviction. Their deeply held religious convictions that hold precedence over all else in life. Nothing holds greater weight for them than their belief system and their lives are governed in worshipful acts of training, service, and violence. To them, what they are committing across the world is tribute to Allah. This is why they hold grave danger – it is ideology that the world stands up against. Strong ideology. The kind that men and women are willing to die to preserve. Join or die, basically.

Watching the news this weekend and the tragedy in Paris unfold, this question bounced around in my head … what are we, here in these United States, willing to die for? We have our military men and women who lay their lives on the line – and to them, we are grateful- and glad to sit in our safe, cozy homes and cry tears over their welcome home videos. Our police forces lay their lives on the line – though they face such degradation even at our own mouths and hands. What is it that the United States holds great conviction in? Possibly we are too great a whole to hold one unified purpose … but, individually, the question needs consideration.

What is the driving force of your life? What is the belief that drives you? Grounds you? That you would forsake the entirety of your measly few years left on planet earth to sustain? What is that which you would martyr yourself for?

It is weighty to consider. It is a must. We will not defeat an organization such as these terror groups unless we match levels of conviction and moral center – and not just leave it to a handful of military men and women. Understand … A man/group fighting for their way of life has the fight-like-a-tiger advantage. Maybe we need to truly understand the danger facing our way of life to grasp the threat … our borders are unsecured, refugees flood into nations even ours … it would not take much for everything we know and believe to change while we fuss and fight over republican vs. democrat ideas. Not that those are not important … they all have their place. But … the greater reality is … What are you willing to die for? Freedom? What is freedom to you? What does it look like? Will you fight to keep it? You may have to.

John 15:13 … Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.