What's A Worshiper To Do?

Well, this has been a week of big changes.

First, our time as dog owners has come to an end. In an attempt to remove as many possible allergens from our environment, Winston was the first casualty. We gave him to a young teacher Misty works with who lives a couple of miles from us. I think it is for the best. I would have liked to recoup out initial investment, but I am more relieved than anything else to not have a dog to worry about. Our lives are stressful enough without the added pressure to take care of an animal. This has been a process that has taken much longer than I had hoped. I guess it is all about timing. But tonight, my house seems quieter and less stress filled than it did the day before.

Of course, Wednesday was my 36th birthday. It was fine. The build-up to my birthday is always worse than the day itself. I took my older ladies choir out on their first field trip of the season. I am no longer directing them myself, but I still take them out to the nursing homes and represent the church. They are a fun bunch and very generous. They gave me a nice gift card. It was probably the kindest present I got that day. Another "friend" gave me a cane and some adult diapers, as well as some Centrum Silver and, of all things, a doo rag. This was all presented during our weekly Fellowship Supper. I had to explain to people that I was not 40, though these gifts apparently gave off the essence of 40.

I had a big Daddy weekend Friday and Saturday. Misty went to Jacksonville for a Beth Moore conference and left me with the three little angels. We took our weekly trip to Target Friday night and bought toys with gift cards sent by Aunt Shannon for Easter. We bought caramel popcorn and watched "Enchanted." You have to love a Disney princess. Then, Saturday morning I drove the girls to Panama City Beach and we went miniature golfing. Okay, Emma did fine. But Elizabeth, in the midst of meltdown after meltdown, got two legitimate holes-in-one. No joke. She could never seem to remember how to hold the club. I would have to take it from her and say, "Hold it like an ice cream cone." She did not get the hang of it, but still managed a feat her older sister could not match, much to Emma's chagrin. Madeline was just along for the ride. She would drop her ball in if she felt like it, or she would want to go again and again. She was a little difficult, but I think she enjoyed herself. I survived, but was exhausted. I have finally started back into my running regimen and had been up early, before the girls woke up, running on the treadmill. And then I got the brave idea to take them out golfing on my own. All in all the Daddy weekend went well, only a couple of meltdowns. I find that Elizabeth has more of my lesser traits, the impatience in particular, that absolutely drive me crazy. I love her, but I am not looking forward to the teen years with her. I guess we will leave that one up to the Lord.

In other thoughts:

I have been thinking a lot about what church is, what it should be, and what it can never be. I have a friend who blogged recently about how back in the 1980s many thought that the problem of relevance in the church could be solved by adding "contemporary" music. The discussion went something like churches who did not sign onto the new music signed their death warrants, but those churches that made the transition are finding that modern music came up short as well. While I agree that music is not the answer, I wonder if we are asking the right questions. I have long felt that a church's style of music was irrelevant to its spiritual effectiveness. Though I do not care for southern gospel music, I am sure that there are churches, large churches at that, which make use of this style of music and continue to grow because, at the center of the church is their love for Christ and their desire to be effective witnesses for Him in this world. Again, it is not about the music or the style format, it is about the church's ability to foster relationships with Christ within the members of the body and coming together as equally called disciples to realize change in the world.

I guess the real question for me is what is the point of church? And by "church" I mean the place we attend on Sundays and Wednesdays. I really do not think the church was meant to be a clearing house for salvation. What I mean is the church, if it is living out its Christ-given commission, should be adding to its numbers by personal evangelism, rather than by some great culturally-relevant musical offering or wonderful culturally-intuitive sermon. In other words, I don't think the church was meant to be a place where we invite sinners to come and let the wonderful words of the pastor exhort them to salvation. I think that believers are supposed to lead people to Christ before they ever set foot in a church. The way I view the early church was not a place where non-believers congregated, but believers. So, to make church about believers is really not a wild thing, or even an irrelevant thing; it is realistic, because the church was meant to be populated by believers and cater to the needs of the faithful. The problem lies in the fact that the church as a body of believers never enters the world. I see the apostles going where the sinners were. I wonder how many of us are following that example.

Now, with that said, the issue of relevance is not without gravity, especially when we consider the youth of the church. As my friend pointedly suggested, a church without youth is only a few years from oblivion. So how do we make the church a place that is hospitable to younger folks without making it unbearable for older folks? The symbols and heritage of the church are things that are worth preserving, but there is a fine line between preserving and worshipping the symbols or the music or whatever. Seeking new and "relevant" ways to worship are also significant and cannot be overlooked (I am always looking for new music or new visuals to aid in worship), but we also have to avoid seeking out the innovative for the sake of innovation.

This issue of "new" music has been a sore spot to me lately for some more personal reasons. We have this young man who is helping us with our youth worship team. I really like him and he is very talented, but sometimes he says things without knowing how they will be received. He was looking through some of the music that I use for our "contemporary" service and commented on how old it was. I laughed and said some little something about it, but it bothered me a little. So, I started looking at what we were doing over the last several weeks and most of it was what I would consider fairly new. With the exception of one song, the oldest song we used in our worship services over the last three weeks was published in 2003 (and many of them were only a year or two old). I am not one to worry about being on the cutting edge, but I am wondering if it makes me really old to think that 2003 is still pretty current.

And another thing: As much as I realize that our worship music has its limitations, I still want the people to engage in the worship time. Even though there is a part of me that thinks our God is imminent, as close as your next breath, "happy clappy" music is utterly ridiculous, especially when one considers the transcendence of God, the Creator and Sustainer of the universe; I still want my congregation to actively engage in adoration of this King. I want our young and old to enjoy being with each other in the presence of God. And when this does not seem to be happening, I wonder why we are there. It really makes me wonder whether or not we are coming from this worship thing from a completely false perspective. I wonder if we have tried for so long to give the people what they want in worship that we have failed to see what God would want (and that could be completely different for each congregation, not necessarily the pre-packaged "Songs for Worship" love track) and thereby disastrously missed the point altogether.

What's a worshiper to do?

Happy Easter Monday

Today is one of those days I dread and love all at the same time. I am glad to have a day off after the craziness of Holy Week, but there is always that emotional let down after the big event. I think this past week went very well and the people who came to our services received something spiritually moving. Our Good Friday service, that worried me to no end, turned out very nice and was likely the best service we have done since I have been at FUMC Panama City. Sadly, there was not a large group to witness this service. Over the past two years, we have done a big choir presentation for Good Friday and the place was packed. Part of me is pleased to know that when our choir presents something, the congregation knows it will be worth attending. The other part of me is mortified by the possibility that some of us only come when we know what we are getting into, culturally or spiritually or otherwise.

Easter Sunday is always nice with the exception of having to be up at the crack of black to get ready for the sunrise service. And we usually see the sunrise or at least the effects of the sun's rising. I had the great joy of having some assistance this year, more than ever before. Our youth pastor, Carl and one of our sound techs, Jonathan, gathered all of the equipment for me so I did not have to worry about it. And, even more amazing, when I reached the park at about 4:50 or so, they were already there setting up. Amazing.

So, after a week of eleven services, I am glad that Holy Week is over for this year and will not be so early again for a while. I have already begun to plan out Christmas and July 4th and I have an idea about next Easter too. So, no rest for the wicked.

One last thought: I read a little more in the book of Mother Teresa's letters and, in her discussion of her calling to start her new mission, she was impressed by the words of Jesus on the cross: "I thirst." She believed that God was telling her that he thirsts for people to be in relationship with him. While instructing her sisters, she would explain:

"I thirst," Jesus said on the cross when Jesus was deprived of every consolation, dying in absolute Poverty, left alone, despised and broken in body and soul. He spoke of His thirst--not for water--but for love, for sacrifice.

Jesus is God: therefore, His love, His thirst is infinite. Our aim is to quench this infinite thirst of a God made man. Just like the adoring angels in Heaven ceaselessly sing the praises of God, so the Sisters, using the four vows of Absolute Poverty, Chastity, Obedience and Charity towards the poor ceaselessly quench the thirsting God by their love and of the love of the souls they bring to Him.

Imagine what it would take from all of us to quench the infinite thirst of a God made man. Where do we begin?

PS: Here is a picture of my pretties on Easter Sunday morning out in front of the church. There were so many Easter lilies, I thought I would die. But, amazingly, I did not suffer any cruel effects. God must have given me a little favor after all.

Allow Myself to Introduce . . . Myself

Clearly, as I have not published much this month, I have had little to say. I usually look forward to March since my birthday is this month, but since Easter is so early this year, everything seems to be focused on the festivities surrounding Holy Week and rightly so. These weeks on either side of Easter are really full and so I will not really be taking any time to celebrate my birthday. And, I am becoming more and more agitated by the thought that my age is now unquestionably roundable up to the big 4 - 0. Honestly, I don't feel old. As old as I felt when I was younger and had to pretend to be older and mature, I thought by this time I would feel decrepit. I guess it depends on your perspective.

I also realized that this year marks 18 years since I graduated from high school. So, I have lived as long as it took to graduate from high school again. And, it is amazing to me to think about where I thought my life would lead at the point I left Oklahoma City for the first time, afraid of leaving home and what I had always known to venture into a very safe arena in Waxahachie. Now, looking back at where life has led me in this second 18 years of life is at times startling and at other times completely natural in its evolution. I think this is my greatest struggle with life, how un-unsettling it can be when you look at it over a period of time. Or, more precisely, how unsettling it is that it is not unsettling when you try to look at it from God's perspective. In the end, the big deals of life are almost inconsequential. We spend our evangelical youth looking for the prize known as God's will, only to find that we can only know the answer to that question from day to day. Seldom do we have the calm of knowing more than 24 hours in advance where we will go. I am beginning to take pleasure in not knowing. This, my friends, is a miracle in and of itself.

Last week I started on my journey to ordination as a deacon in the United Methodist Church. As I have said before, I look forward to this process with equal parts joy and loathing. I want to go forward in this endeavour, but I realize it will nail the coffin shut on my old life. And, as I have said many times, although I am glad to be on a new path, sometimes I miss the comfort of the old one. It is the same story, wishing there was even a possibility to bore a hole in a door that God has shut (and shut long before I gave voice to it). It will be good for me to identify myself in this new way. It will give me some additional grounding that I think I need right now and allow me to feel a sense of home within my new fellowship. I really feel the need to complete the severing process that I began in 2002 and by doing so, can go ahead and shut the door on the past for good.

In other news~Our little Madeline is not doing all that well. Her allergy-induced asthma has really been bad these last several weeks. She coughs all the time. In the next few weeks we will likely have her tested for allergens/triggers now that she is old enough to do this. We hope this will help some in treating her.

Misty and I are going on a date tonight for the first time in God only remembers when. Some kind members of our church gave us tickets to the opera for this evening. I am thankful for them, but I wish the opera were next week. I hope to get through it. And, part of me hopes it is really bad because I enjoy bad singing almost as much as I enjoy good singing (and you never know with travelling companies). At least it is Madame Butterfly and Puccini is always good for a nice self-inflicted death scene.

Real Men

Well, these last several days have been pretty quiet. Not much to report. I am freaking out that Easter is now less than two weeks away. I will be glad when it is over, so I can plan some things for Independence Day and Christmas. Tomorrow I will meet with our district superintendent to officially begin the process to be ordained as a deacon. I am looking forward to it with joy and dread all at the same time. I would like it better if they would just tell me I'm in, rather than going through this whole long process~more graduate schooling, psychological exams, etc.

I had one of those crazier than crazy Sundays. We had a funeral and a wedding at the church this week, so that meant I was going to have to set up all of the instruments for the contemporary service and the handbell choir was going to play at both traditional services, so that meant an extra 45 minutes to my already hectic morning. And, it was daylight savings day on top of it. So, I get to church at what just the day before was 4:58 a. m. to find that the bells and all their accoutrements were not where they were supposed to be. So, with the help of our chief custodian, I had to move all of them and do all the rest of the stuff I needed to do. Let's just say I was almost fetal until the custodian came in the door. Granted, it was just two minutes after I got there. Anyway, things went well in spite of the trauma.

I leave you with this video of a Baptist preacher discussing what it is to be a real man, Biblical style. You know how much I enjoy a sermon which completely takes the Scriptures out of context. Discuss amongst yourselves.

Longest Weekend Ever

Okay, so this has to have been the longest weekend ever. You know, it started with the Friday night funeral. I could not sleep at all Friday night, so I sat up and watched stupidness on television. I slept late Saturday morning and then we went and looked for a new kitchen table. We have been planning to buy one for years and never have. So, finally, we bought a round table with five chairs. Then Saturday evening I had the first of two concerts with the Pro Arte Chorale. The performance went fine and I enjoyed getting to sing some new music. Only a couple of spots were a little weak. But there was one section where I think I was the only one singing. I wanted to stop and ask where everyone else was. I refrained.

Sunday is always long, with three services as usual. Immediately after church, I changed into my tuxedo and drove to Santa Rosa Beach for the second concert. I was listening to the Faure' Requiem really loud and did not hear my telephone buzz. When I was done listening, I discovered I had received two calls, one from one of my church choir members (who is also in the Chorale) and the other from the director of the Chorale. As it turned out, one of the members of a small ensemble (SSAATB) had become ill since the last performance and they wanted me to substitute for the tenor. Again, all of this music was new to me. So, with about 30 minutes of practice, I sang four songs with this little ensemble, three madrigals and a Renaissance song in German. Funner than fun.

I have never thought of myself as an exceptional sightreader, but I guess I am better than I thought I was. So, for a week when I was being extra hard on myself, I guess God gave me a moment of clarity that helped me realize that I am giving enough of myself to what I do. And, I am continuing to work on my issues with spontaneity and being willing to just go for it. I usually do not have a problem being spontaneous on my own, I just don't love it when it is thrust upon me. Oh well, it is a work in progress.

So, after the concert, I drove back to church so that I could make an appearance, hear the student praise band, and have dinner with the family. This concludes my 13-hour work day. So much for no work on the sabbath.

Leap Day Postings Don't Come Around Every Year

Well, it is February 29, 2008. Nothing really interesting to comment on or report other than Leap Day. I spent most of the day teaching voice lessons and giving advice to college students. And I had another funeral. You know, if you change the letters of funeral around you get "real fun." This one was at 6 pm! I have never in my life been to a funeral at night. The family was very nice and grateful for my time. I just told them it was what we do. I had to miss a fish fry at Emma's school, but life goes on.

This weekend I will be singing with a semi-professional choral group in Panama City (Saturday) and in Santa Rosa Beach (Sunday afternoon). I got guilted into it by the director and several of my choir members who are in the other group. I will have a brief rehearsal with them Friday evening and then basically sight read Faure's Requiem and some other choral works. So it looks like a longer than average weekend for me. Fun.

As for other news~ Nothing earth shattering to report. Happy leap day!

Politics of Hope

When did it become unAmerican to be idealistic? When did it become unpatriotic to hope for something better than the way things have always been?

I have not been an avid Obama fan and I wonder about the substance behind some of his idealistic speeches, but I have to wonder why it is that so many attack him on the one thing that he is bringing to a new generation of American voters--hope. I mean, each of the other candidates has raked him over the coals because he is hopeful about changing America. Senator Clinton spoke about how Obama expects angelic choirs to begin to sing and everything will be new again for America. Now, I understand that she is trying to make a distinction between herself and Obama, when there are relatively few differences between their stances on any issue, but I think it is sad when a leader with hope for the future is seen as less than capable of leading because of his hope. True, there are a lot of things that need work--a lot of work, but sometimes people need a little hope in order to face the problems that lie at the door. I think it may be time to be hopeful again.

A couple of Sundays ago we were talking about D. L. Moody and a young minister he met in England while on a preaching crusade. He encouraged the young man to visit him in Chicago, thinking he would never come. Shortly after returning, Moody got word that the young minister was coming for a visit and wanted to preach. Moody, who was going to be out of town during his visit, did not know what to do except allow him to preach once. After returning home, Moody asked his wife what she thought of the young man. She told Moody that the young minister was better than Moody himself. He preached on John 3:16 and focused on God's love rather than the peoples' sinfulness. By the time Moody returned, the young man had been packing in the crowds every night for almost a week never preaching on another text but John 3:16. Moody was alarmed and wanted to put a stop to it, but his wife reminded him that we all know how bad things are. Sometimes we need to be reminded of how good God is and how much He loves us.

I may get grouchy with myself a lot and expect more from myself than from anyone else, but I really want to believe in hope--hope in God, hope for the world, and hope for our nation's place in the world.

"Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow, blessings all mine with ten thousand beside."

I Wish We'd All Been Ready

Sad to say, Larry Norman died on Sunday morning. He had been ill for many years. Larry was, of course, the grandaddy of the contemporary Christian music movement (for good or bad). I used to talk about him quite a bit in my history of church music course at the college. His music was such an integral part of the Jesus movement and so encapsulated his era. He was influential in the lives of other significant musicians of the time including Randy Stonehill and Keith Green. I wish that Christian music had been able to stay free from the commercialism that has overtaken it and remained true to Larry's vision of what modern music with a Christian message could be. He definitely was not a perfect vessel, but he asked the important questions and tried to find answers for his day. And 36 years since "Only Visiting This Planet" was first released, it is still a work to be reckoned with.

Running on Empty (a. k. a. Going Through the Motions)

This last week has been a blur. Thankfully, due to some events in the community that many of my choir members were involved in, several of my regular rehearsals had to be cancelled. It gave me some time off which was nice, but it ended up being put to other uses. Madeline was sick most of the week. We took her to the doctor four times in eight days. Thursday, the doctor wanted to send her to the hospital because her cough was so bad. She asked me how long it had been like that and I told her a week. It was like that when we brought her in the first time. Frustration. I could not imagine taking my two-year-old to the hospital. Fun. She is getting better. In the midst of these trips to the doctor it decided to rain here and never stop. We had a nice little flood on Thursday, so much so that the schools were closed on Friday. So, we had everyone at home, Maddie and mommy sick, and me still trying to get over my illness from the last two weeks. Stressful. Friday was also my father's 60th birthday. Saturday was a wasted day at home, except for our family outing to Sam's. At least church went well today. No coughing my lungs up during services this time around.

I have been thinking a lot about emptiness lately, spiritual or otherwise. This is likely something I should not discuss here, but here goes. I have long worried that very little truly brings me pleasure. Since "music" is my chosen profession, I think most people think it delights me to sing all day long and to listen to music all the time. The truth is, music is a job to me and I get tired of it easily. Granted, I would rather work in music than be a plumber, but I find myself going through the motions because it is what is expected of me. This does not mean that I do not find any joy in it, sometimes, I even find great joy. But I look at people like my father who do music only as an avocation, who seem to derive such great pleasure from it, that it makes me a little sad that I do not get to experience it in the same way.

But there is always this thought in the back of my mind that I am not giving all of myself to anything. I have deliberately chosen a profession that does not require me to think very much. I am creative within a certain frame of reference and never beyond that. I have chosen to be in places where I can be considered forward thinking without having to commit to seeing that completely through. The truth is the college where I gave ten years of my life was not exactly cutting edge (but, to be fair, academic music does not pride itself on being up to date anywhere, especially considering academia's penchant for musical museum pieces). And no church is totally interested in giving up the framework that bestows upon it self-identity as a church (why would we try anything else when we have always done it this way?).

Sometimes it is easier to be a visionary than to be a pioneer. I don't know if this is a bigger indictment on me or on the community that created me.

Some would tell me that it is better to be a visionary even if the vision is never realized. But I am beginning to wonder if the path of unrealized vision is actually a path to insanity. I have been told that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. Well, what happens when you expect no results? When we expect little or no results, we are not devastated by the lack of change. I am coming to believe that God gives us vision(s) in order to see them fulfilled, and when they go unrealized they become fodder for the Enemy to use against us. And then comes the question: Would it be better to be mediocre, to live without vision than to see the dream go unfulfilled? To never know beyond the surface or never look beyond the next hill? I think it would be worse to have known these things and then to lose them, but I wonder what it is like for those who never know them? Is life somehow easier when you don't have to think about every action or motive?

Funny thing is that, on the whole, I am as happy as ever right where I am. I just wonder if I will ever be happy to just be happy. I spend far too much time inside my own mind and this is likely not the healthiest thing for me. But I know nothing else, and sometimes the Devil you know is better than the Devil you do not know. And, I am on such good terms with my own personal devil that to lose him--I wonder if I would lose myself. And maybe that is the point right there--fear of losing self when that is the one thing that Jesus calls us to do.

Sometimes I hate this blog.

RE: Publicans

How difficult is it for someone who is an encultured evangelical Christian from birth to truly feel a part of this world? I have been thinking about this a lot lately. Evangelicals are taught from the earliest stages of life to come out and be separate from the world. "Don't even do anything that the world might consider fun." How then do we enter a world that we have never really been a part of? For all the talk of the emergent/missional church, and all the literature that is written directed toward making the church more accessible to nonchurched individuals, how does someone like me inact these things in my own life and in the church? No matter how much I try to lose the stereotypical "Christian" look, I still come across as a minister to most people. My only saving grace on this front is that I have this gift that makes people tell me everything about them. It is a real conversation starter.

We talked about Pharisees in church on Sunday because we were looking at John 3. Nicodemus was a Pharisee who came to Jesus by night and you know the rest of the story. I was thinking the whole time: "If Jesus came to us today and told us to do things a different way, we would probably look at him the way Nicodemus looked at Jesus back then. The "are you kidding me? We have always done things this way" mentality.

I find myself in this camp often and I hate to admit it. As much as I talk about change, I loathe it just as much. I am constantly in search of calm, but I rarely get to hold onto it for long. Although, right now, for the first time in some time, I feel an odd sense of settledness. I guess I am really a Pharisee when it comes right down to it. I want Jesus to work within my own religious framework. It seems to work for me. Why can't it work for Jesus?

I am reminded of the parable in Luke 18 about the publican and the Pharisee. I like the word "publican." It sounds so much better than just a "sinner" or tax collector. What was his story? His prayer? "Have mercy on me, a sinner." The Pharisee was just thankful he was not like the publican and started to count the ways they were different. And these areas were all good, religious things that we should do. But whose prayer was heard? Jesus said the publican went home justified before God. "For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." Isn't this the crux of Jesus' teaching? He came to raise up those who had no voice and to call into question those who think they have it right. What does this mean for those of us in vocational ministry?
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In other news: No significant news to report on the home front. We continue to battle the allergens. I am fine until I get up to sing and then I cannot stop the coughing. I am hopeful that I will be better soon since I refuse to go to the doctor. I have been asked to sing in one of the semi-professional chorales. I want to help out, but my illness is keeping me from committing fully. Today is one of those days that I hate--a holiday without presents and no mail on top of that. I hate not getting the mail. I may have to go buy a magazine and put it in the mailbox. I worry myself sometimes.

Peace

Sick of Being Sick

Well, it started almost two weeks ago when Emma had to stay home from school because she was sick. Then Madeline got sick (a little). And since Wednesday I have been coughing my head off and wishing my head would go back to normal. Living in northwest Florida, there is no off season for allergies, so I end up with a sinus infection about every other month. Upper respiratory issues are a major problem for someone in my business. A parishioner, who happens to do the weather for one of our local television stations, asked me last month what happens when I get sick. He had been sick several days in January and could hardly talk, so it was a timely conversation. I told him I just have to muddle through. I hate being gone on a Sunday, so I did my best today. Though, after coughing throughout the entire middle service, I really wanted to say "Hey people, get me some water. Can't you see I am about to start coughing up blood?" Maybe I just covered it so well that they did not notice. Fat chance. I came home, had lunch, and slept for four hours. I am sick of being sick.

Saturday I spent the day judging district solo and ensemble contest in Panama City Beach. For my first couple of years here, no one in the musical establishment of Bay County gave me the time of day. A lot of it has to do with having no one in the area who knows you are not a crackpot. Well, now it seems I have become the beau at the ball and people are raving about my vocal coaching and what I have done with my choir and now I am being invited to sing or judge or whatever all over. It is nice. And even though I do not feel the need to be stroked very much, it does feel better that people are getting to know and appreciate what I have to offer. I have also become acutely aware of how high school students react to me and my sense of humor. It is wild. It is like I have this instant rapport with them. So, if the world came to an end and I had to teach in a high school, I believe, for the first time, this would not be horrible. Let's hope this does not happen any time soon.

I remember when I moved to Texas from Oklahoma and how difficult it was to start over again. A well-respected youth minister in the Oklahoma City area gave me some wise counsel that I did not follow. In many ways, I was hot stuff in the area Assemblies of God, even as a young person. And he told me that it would be better for me to stay in the area, go to school there, and remain working in churches there because I had built a big platform for ministry there already. Everyone knew me. I liked that, but I still moved away because I thought it was the right thing.

However, right is not usually the easiest avenue to walk down. After a year of being in Texas, I was ready to move "home." Starting over is the worst for someone like me because I hate having to prove myself again and again. What was nice about that move was that I ended up taking the job teaching at Southwestern and that came with an automatic, built-in platform.

Several years ago when I began to wonder if I would spend the rest of my life in the fellowship of youth, I started talking to a lot of different Christian leaders. One such individual was this man from Florida who was part of a group called the Charismatic Orthodox Church. He was the leader of this new church and one of the most intuitive people I have ever spoken to. He talked about the importance of a platform for ministry, that if you do not have one, no one will hear your voice even if you have a direct line to God. He told me it would be better to stay within the place that I was because I had a platform for affecting change in more lives where I was.

I wonder what significance there is in not listening to the greater part of wisdom and leaving good enough (or bad enough) alone? I have often spoken of change as the greatest constant in life. We hear so much about change these days with the Obama and Clinton campaigns. I hear ministers talk about change, as long as it is not only change for change's sake. So change is on everbody's mind. Clearly, since I moved I have had to reestablish a reputation and relationship to a new community each time. And, though I do not care for this process, it always seems to come.

I guess what I am getting at is, God raises us up for whatever task He requires of us and gives us the platform we need to see His will accomplished. I am glad to be in a place of acceptance in the church and in my community and I look forward to this new season and where this may lead. So, two years in and I feel more at home than I thought I might when I left the comfort of the world I had always known and a well-built platform for ministry. I am thankful that He begins a good work in us and is faithful to complete it, whether or not it is where or when or how we might have dreamed it would turn out.

Learning to Lie

"One of the benefits of working at a church is that you learn to lie well." Anonymous

Today marks the second anniversary of my move to Florida and my change of life direction. A times it is still hard for me to believe that this happened; however, it has been long enough that I have begun to forget much of the "feeling" of what was before. I still remember all of the lessons I learned, both good and bad, but just like, no matter how hard you try to remember a loved one who has died, as time goes on, you begin to forget what their voice sounded like. All in all, I still think this has been the best thing that I have ever done for my family. We still have our struggles and anyone who thinks that moving even a good distance from "home" will remove his problems is fooling himself. Problems go with you wherever you live, because they are a part of you, and until you deal with them, no mere change of scenery will make a difference.

I have thought a lot about people who have been influential in my life this week. I remember the last time I saw this man who was a big part of my early performance life. He was the founder of this children's musical group I was a part of back in the early 80s. It was in the safety of the cocoon that he created that I was able to learn to perform and gain some self-confidence that I so desperately needed and could not find at school. He was a great supporter of me "career" and kept in touch with me for many years. He and his wife came to my senior voice recital and I did not see him again for years. Until one day back in 2005 I ran into him again (eleven years after I had seen him last) in Branson, Missouri at a restaurant. I went over to him, by this time 80 years old, and introduced myself. He did not recognize me, but his wife did and through her conversation began to explain to me that he did not remember much these days. I was a little sad, but I understood that life goes on, whether we want it to or not. (Really no point to this story other than nostalgia.)

I have also thought about those folks who spoke into my religious life, and I wonder if they would be pleased to see what I am doing now. Many of them would be very pleased, I am sure. But there are those that I still wonder about, who I fear must think I have become what they so feared back in the day--a Methodist (read: not a real Christian), and a "liberal" (gasp). Of course, to me, these are silly things. And this idea of my being a liberal, as defined by some of my forebears, is more of a moderate than anything else (you know, someone who is interested in things that Jesus talked about). I wonder about the dreams others dreamed about and for me and whether or not this change of direction has been more painful for them than for me. But maybe the person I worry the most about is me?

My internal paradigm has shifted so much over the years and sometimes I wonder if this has all been for the best. I believe I was right to make these internal changes, I believe they were ordained by God, but my definition of what is "right" has changed. And therein lies the frightening part. I am thankful for the more fundamentalist leanings of my early life because I think they helped keep me on the straight and narrow. They definitely gave me a love for the Scriptures and for the Church, but I really do not want to submit my children to the same worries that I lived with every night, concerned about going to hell in my sleep. I guess I want them to know the truth and love Jesus and His Church, but not have all the baggage that tends to be a part of the culturally American evangelical church. Maybe I should get over myself and allow God to dream new dreams for me, even better than I dreamed before. If this doesn't work, I guess I should try to learn how to lie better. After all, I do work at a church.

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In other news, we had the dog "fixed" today. I have relented to keeping the dog, despite the fact that he has been marking his territory in the house and actually bit a hole in the wall. Yes, a hole in the wall. Hopefully, Winston will be a much happier puppy now. But, he still has other things I can have removed if he gets on my last nerve much more. ; )

The Hard Part is Acting Like Jesus

Today was one of those weird Florida days that started out a little cool and cloudy and ended up warm and sunny. This weather probably will not last long, but it is nice that we get some respite from the cold, well, Florida's version of cold anyway.

I took my lunch break and went for a 3-mile run. I am really getting into the swing of this running thing. Then I went to get a little lunch and drop off a jacket (the one from the movies) at the dry cleaners. It just so happened that I passed by one of the biggest churches in town that is in the middle of this huge building project. It is a conservative, evangelical fellowship. They must be doing something right, because they continue to grow and expand their ministries. People are excited to be there and invite their friends. It is great.

Recently, I was watching this church on television and their pastor was talking about the presidential race. Funny, he made pretty certain who he was not voting for without even saying her name. But his most intriguing point was that at least one of the candidates was a postmodernist. He said it with such disdain. And then he went on to explain that a postmodernist is someone who does not believe in any absolutes, that whatever you believe is fine for you. He may have been talking about the presidential candidates, but his subtext was pretty clear: That emergent church you may have been hearing about is just the same--postmodernist mumbo-jumbo from people pretending to be Christians, but they don't stand for anything. I was a little offended, especially since I think most younger people in the world are "postmodernists" and how can we reach people if we close the curtain and pretend that it is okay to leave them alone. As long as they leave us alone, we can pretend to be the church and just send them on to hell where they belong.

I have come to the realization that many evangelicals are okay with certain groups going to hell, you know homosexuals, abortion doctors, Mormons, Muslims, etc. "They are going to hell because of the decisions they have made." Forget the fact that many of them may be going there because of one of us and how we showed the love of Jesus to them (enter picketers: "God hates fags" etc.). It is much easier for us to allow them to go to hell than it is for us to worry about them. Why, when we have more important things to worry about like the color of the carpet in the sanctuary or whether or not we use regular or decaf in the church lounge.

I also believe that there are many evangelicals who like being told they are going to hell, or at least warned about it at every possible opportunity. I think in some ways, this is why many evangelical churches are thriving today. We live in a world of uncertainty, some of which is truly uncertain and some of it is merely fearmongering. Uncertainty helps us to find religion, but all too often it is fear of the unknown that pushes us over the edge. I lived for most of my life in fear of the rapture or that I would somehow unknowingly sin, and damn my soul to eternal hell. I even worked on my weeping and gnashing of teeth. I am pretty good at it and have a side of guilt to spare even today.

Back to my hypothesis that evangelicals like being told about hell a lot: Evangelicals tend to be very anti-Catholic, but they do many things that I would consider Catholic. For instance, fundies think that confession to a priest is evil, because only God can forgive sins (forget that verse in John 20 where Jesus gave the disciples the power to forgive sins). The worst part according to the evangelical mindset is the belief that Catholics can do some "Hail Mary's" and be forgiven, but usually the sinner returns to his sins next week because he can always go to confession and be okay. But consider that in many churches there is an altar call each service for confession and repentance--all good things. But has it ever occurred to anyone that we often like to be reminded of just how sinful we are, then be given the opportunity to confess and repent, and then go about our merry way with never a thought to true discipline and change?

I think most of this goes back to fearmongering or the escapist mentality that many churches teach. I am sorry, and part of me wishes these were true, but these worries get us so far off the path that Jesus laid out for us that I am afraid soon we may not be able to even find the path. Time and time again we spend more of our time worrying about things Jesus never mentioned even one time (homosexuality or whatever) rather than spending any time on the things he mentioned over and over again (poverty, bringing the Kingdom of God to fruition).

It is easy to call ourselves Christians when we think have our theology right and are living lives untouched by the world. The hard part is acting like Jesus.

Fumbling Towards Tolerance

It has been several days since my last entry. I have often thought of things to blog about, but seldom seemed to have the time to put my thoughts into words. Since Christmas, things here have been odd. I have had weeks of paranoia, followed by weeks of great joy, followed by weeks of utter disbelief. But these are normal for me, usually. In the end, the better days have won out. Partly, this is due to my return to an exercise regime. That always makes my mood much better. In fact, this afternoon I ran four miles and burned over 1000 calories. I am determined to lose the rest of the weight I need to lose. I am determined to be sexier at 36 than I was at 26 (which would not be difficult at all).

This weekend has been one of the most child-friendly weekends we have had in a while. Friday, we took the girls out of school early and drove to Destin to see the Hannah Montana movie. I was the only man there. I guess I love my girls more than most daddies. We had a good time, with one major exception. We did not change Madeline's diaper before we got out of the van in Destin (about an hour from home) and, unbeknownst to me, she had wet through her clothes and onto my shirt and dry-clean only jacket. She had a change of clothes. I was not so lucky. I had to go to the restroom, clean my shirt and jacket, and dry off using the hand dryer. Fun. But, all was made better since we stopped for dinner at P. F. Chang's in Sandestin on the way home.

Saturday, we made our weekly trip to Target. We are boring. Sunday, after church, and after my "run" we took the girls to the Lynn Haven park. We decided not to go to the part that has the very lifelike depictions of human anatomy on the playground equipment. It really is a nice park, it is a wonder they have not done something about the anatomy lesson.

While we were at the park, Emma got to play with one of her classmates, who just happens to be Muslim. Although we live in a fairly out of the way place, we have a large Muslim population here. Most of our doctors are Muslim, many from Pakistan. I don't really remember ever coming into direct contact with Muslims until I moved to Dallas when I was 22 and lived next door to a Muslim couple. We lived about a mile or so from the largest mosque in the Dallas area and could hear the call to prayer some of the time. Once we moved to Waxahachie, we never really saw any Muslims, not really. Then we moved to the boondocks of northwest Florida and they are everywhere.

I cannot say how good I feel that my daughter has befriended a girl who is "different." Although she does not wear one to school, she did have a head covering on today. But Emma did not seem to think anything of this. They played and had a good time being girls. Nothing else. I know that one day she will be much more tolerant than I ever was as a child (or am now) because she has come into contact with other cultures and is not afraid of them. I have talked about the struggles of multiculturalism, but when we do not know any different, the struggle seems to evaporate. And isn't it amazing how more fearful we become as we age? Children tend to look at the things that are similar (okay, maybe not at first, but they sure get there quicker than adults do), rather than spending too much time on the things that make us different.

Last week I saw another protest by fundamentalist Christians in front of a clinic that provides DNA service; not an abortion clinic, mind you, just a walk-in clinic. They had their hateful signs about people going to hell and all that good stuff. I must admit I get a surge of adrenaline when I see these people, but this is usually followed by such a strong sense of remorse. I won't labor over this, but I am glad that my children will never know that type of intolerance.

Tolerance gets a bad rap because evangelicals tend to think that tolerance is just another way to say we accept everything the "heatens" do. I think this is just a cop out for not trying to understand people of divergent beliefs or of no belief system. I think it is a way to say "I am so holy because I know the truth." But how often does knowing that truth seem to be enough? Just living "holy" and keeping ourselves from the "world" is considered living a godly life. I am willing to admit that I do not always live the faith out as I should, and maybe, that is worse than having a divergent belief system or only a moral system. I wonder who is the goat and who is the sheep?

I heard a professor talking about one class that she used to teach in which students had to choose a religion to discuss. She said that they always wanted to choose Islam, because they have five major beliefs and it is easy to explain. Christians always had a hard time putting their faith into easily digestible words. This is scary to me, but I have heard this much of my adult life. Evangelicals know what they don't believe in, but what they do believe is trickier. You know, the old "we don't drink and we don't chew and we don't go with those who do."

Maybe, we have distorted the message of Jesus so much that even the "chosen" don't really know what he said. I had a parishioner come into my office and say that they used to believe something very strongly, but then they started really studying it and reading what the Bible has to say about it and they realized that it was not true. And this was a lifelong believer, who was sincere in her faith.

I guess I just want to get back to the basics of what Jesus had to say and what the authors of the New Testament thought important enough to write about, and be done with it. Well, maybe not that part about women being silent in church, or being saved through childbirth, or slaves being submissive to their masters. I'm afraid some of these folks who wrote the Scriptures were people, and not very tolerant at that.

Another Question Without an Answer

"Where could you take Jesus to church and not feel like you had to explain it to Him?"--Jim Henderson

I read this question on another blog, so I have no idea if Jim Henderson is a heretic or whatever, but I thought the question was worth sharing. Has the church moved so far from Christ's ideal that He would not recognize it now? Or would He ask why we do some of the things we do? Maybe He already is. . .

Drinking the Chalice to the Last Drop

I can't tell you how glad I am that tomorrow is a holiday. Not that I am so desperate for some time off, but I will take what I can get. It always seems like something infringes upon my day off, like a funeral or another church event. The only bad thing is that it is really cold here. I mean, it is Florida and since we have been back from Texas, we have had two hard freezes. Below freezing in Florida? I remember commenting on this phenomenon and someone reminding me we did not live in Miami. And is it interesting at all how often we hear "interesting" discussions about the validity of such a holiday when it is the only American holiday that celebrates a Christian minister, who just happened to be black? Well, that is a question for another day.

I have been reading the book Mother Teresa~Come Be My Light, and I must admit that it is a difficult read for me. I have found so many of my own questions within her early writings. After she had moved to Calcutta, but shortly after she became a Loreto nun, she wrote the following:

Surely you want some news also about me. One thing, pray much for me--I need prayer now more than ever. I want to be only all for Jesus--truly and not only by name and dress. Many times this goes upside down--so my most reverend "I" gets the most important place. Always the same Gonxha [Teresa's Albanian name]. Only one thing is different--my love for Jesus--I would give everything, even life itself, for Him. It sounds nice but in reality it is not so easy. And just that I want, that it not be easy. Do you remember once you told me in Skopje: "Gonxha, you want to drink the chalice to the last drop." I do not know if at that time, I thought as I do now, but now yes, and that joyfully even without a tear . . . . It does not go so easily when a person has to be on one's feet from morning till evening. But still, everything is for Jesus; so like that everything is beautiful, even though it is difficult.

And shortly thereafter she wrote:

Why must we give ourselves fully to God? Because God has given Himself to us. If God who owes nothing to us is ready to impart to us no less than Himself, shall we answer with just a fraction of ourselves? To give ourselves fully to God is a means of receiving God Himself. I for God and God for me. I live for God and give up my own self, and in this way induce God to live for me. Therefore to possess God we must allow Him to possess our soul.

Maybe one day I will be there, but not today. I am longing for a day when I will be able to give over all control to God, so that I can be fully His and allow Him to live for me. I wonder what freedom lies in drinking the chalice to the last drop?

I heard this great line from the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding: "Don't let your past dictate who you are but let it be part of who you become." I am still looking for the day when I will not allow fears from the past to dictate who I am now. I am encouraged that one day the problems of today will not dictate my future. And maybe that day will be the day when I can drink the chalice to the last drop . . . and be satisfied with just Jesus. Pray for me much.

The Soap Incident

Okay, so I work at a "downtown" church, or what some might call an "inner city" church. What does this mean? It means we get a lot of calls for help with bills and a lot of transitory folks who come into the church looking for a hand out before they head to parts unknown. So one day last fall, I was at the church one morning and went into the men's restroom. I "noticed" that someone was in the handicap stall. I went about my business and heard a flush. A man who appeared to be homeless (at least he had the uniform) came out of the stall and went to the sink to wash his hands. I joined him there at the next sink and began to wash my hands. Now, I want to make this plain: I am not a restroom conversationalist in the least. I smile pleasantly if someone greets me near the door or at the sink, but I prefer not to speak in the restroom at all. This is a private moment I am having, and I do not want to talk . . . ever.

Okay, back to my pointless, but true story: We are washing our hands and the man takes another drag of the soap and says: "This is some good soap!" I countered, with a chuckle: "Yes it is." Then he said it: "You know, it's important to wash your hands as often as you can, especially after you go number 2." My answer: "Well, it is important to keep your hands clean." And I left, never to see this person again.

Every time I see one of these people come in, I am reminded how little I understand about the culture around me. And I think about how much our perception of the gospel is tied to how we received it or how it was received by our community. As much as I love the precepts of the emerging church, I wonder how well some of these ideas would work in a non-white American culture. I look around at those who are interested in this movement, and they are mainly like me: a little cynical about church, though we still believe in it. Middle class, interested in the arts and weaving a conversation that involves others who are like us. Or are they people we would be like if we had not grown up in church?

Maybe this should not be cause for alarm at all. One of the main goals of the emerging church is to make the gospel available to our culture in the same way missionaries make the gospel understandable to another, alien culture. I heard this story about this non-white couple who went to see Rob Bell and were struck by how many white folks were there. Maybe the reason the emergent church works for me is because I see myself in it. Maybe I feel comfortable with it, because it reflects my longings. But do people of other ethnicities see themselves in this type of setting? Does every movement have to be multicultural to be a move of God?

I have been struggling with issues of race lately. I realize I cannot possibly understand what it is like to be a member of another race or ethnic group. As much as I try, I can only go so far. This business with the Obama and Clinton campaigns and the injection of race into the presidential campaign has only brought to light the issues we as a country still face.

I saw this movie about this African American woman who was a bright, how-powered attorney or something who ended up having a fling with her white landscape architect. At one point she was talking about some racially charged issue and he rolled his eyes. He asked her why everything had to be about black and white all the time. Her comment startled me: "You are never reminded you are white. But I am reminded I am black everyday." She went on to discuss the discrimination she felt in her firm, even though she was well-educated and well-prepared for her job. Of course, this is something I have never experienced, except when I have ventured into places where I am a minority--like the school where my wife used to teach in Dallas. She was one of five white teachers in the whole school. It was an interesting learning experience for both of us.

To be truly multicultural, we have to be willing to give up ourselves and our desires in order to give others space for their needs to be met alongside ours. I admit that, though I enjoy the idea of multiculturalism in church and in the country, it makes me nervous because I have to move beyond my area of comfort. There are times when I think I am a long way down that road, and other times I think I haven't even begun. It means sometimes I will have to be more patient to understand someone who speaks in broken English, or to understand a transitory individual's painful story, or to get dirty helping someone out. Maybe, I just need some good soap. You know, it's important.

Can You Spare Some Change?

I don't think I have ever heard the word "change" as often as I have in the last few weeks. Iowa votes one way and everyone says we are in for a change. But then there is New Hampshire and everyone is asking what changed. There are funny things afoot here.

I have often talked about change on this blog and how it is one of the scariest things for most churches and those in church ministry. For example, I was reading another blog today and they were talking about change and why it is so hard for most churches, no matter what the style of worship or the venue might be. The blogger said that there are two reasons why churches fight change: "The first stems from the mistaken idea that change in the church is wrong by principle. The second stems from a simple lack of practical knowledge as to how to positively introduce change without compromise." It seems like I hear variations on these themse often, especially when the discussion leads to the emergent church. Comments like: "Well, I think change is good, but let's not be too hasty." Or, "I like emergent ideas, but I am worried that we might begin to water down the gospel." All of this is about fear--of the unknown, of what God might do, or worse, what the people might think.

I have long said that change is one of the scariest things for me personally, but that I also thrive on it. My move here and our new life, which is about to begin its third year, was one such important change that would allow me to open doors to a new world. Granted, there have been times when I thought I would bore a hole in the doors that were shut to my old life, but in the end I still know the "change of life" was right. But to say that it was easy is an impossibility, even two years after the fact. Last week was the second anniversary of my resignation from the university (and also, being offered my current ministry position).

I have been dealing a lot with issues of control lately. Last week, I was reminded of John 3:30: "He must increase, but I must decrease." I have often thought about these profound words from John the Baptist concerning the ministry of Jesus. Imagine, a man who had an amazing ability to communicate to his generation, a prophetic voice to which many listened. He had a large following. And, yet, when asked about Jesus, John’s response: “He must increase, but I must decrease.” One of the shortest verses in the Scriptures, yet it sums up my deepest yearning. I want to strip away all that is me and be only Him. And John was willing to do this.

How often do we get involved in doing great things—for the church, for the community, for the Lord—only to realize that we were doing these things for our own purposes or because this is what we always do? John the Baptist was a messenger sent from God to prepare the way for Christ, and this was no unimportant calling. John knew the greater calling was to lead people to Christ, even though this meant that he would have to surrender his following, his glory to Christ.

Today, we are called to surrender our hopes and glories into the will of the One who called us out of darkness into His marvelous light. When we begin to follow wholly after Him, people no longer see us, but they see Him.

Getting in the Mood to Blog

I have not been in a blogging state of mind lately. Not that there has not been much to blog about. At the beginning of each year, I am always more reflective than normal, so I can't believe I have not been burning up the blogosphere. Oh well, I guess I will have to get back into the swing of things for my loyal handful of readers.

1st: I saw this sign while I was in Texas that offended me. It read: "John 14:6 says Jesus Christ is the only way to heaven." I am always offended when someone breaks down the choice to serve Christ to a heaven or hell option. Not that it is completely false, but because it is utterly ridiculous to me to think that the only reason to serve God is to escape hell. This escapist mentality that many evangelicals have gets on my last nerve, especially since it is used so often to explain why we do not care about the earth or other significant things this side of heaven. We will have our first funeral of the year tomorrow for a very congenial man who made coffee for his wife Monday morning, sat down, and never got back up. A person broke down crying in my office the other day regarding the death of an estranged child over the holidays. Every time someone dies, we are reminded that we are not entitled to live the next day and we need to be ready to meet the Lord. But it still bothers me when we make heaven so much about us and our relationship with Christ so much about our needs. We do need to know Christ to go to heaven, but wouldn't it be a wonder if we knew him and he made this earthly life an amazing experience, so much so that we had to share it with everyone--not just because they would miss out on heaven, but because they would miss out on the best life on earth possible.

2nd: I am intrigued by the media and what they never learn about polls and the presidential race. I remember after the Florida debacle of 2000 media types said they would never call a race until after all polls had closed. But why is it that the media has to know everything before they really know it? I think it is a good thing that none of the leading presidential candidates has been crowned just yet. It is better for the country if there is no clear-cut nominee immediately. This way, we get to know the candidates better. And, though I may like one candidate over another, there are still many things that most people do not know about each of the candidates, and a prolonged period in the valley of decision can only be a good thing. In a later blog I plan to talk about the role of racism in this presidential race, but that is too much for me to get into today.

I hope you have kept all of your resolutions so far. I have been much better about my diet and I have started to run again after a 3-month hiatus. I am so sore.

Peace.

Finding Normal

Well, things are finally winding down from the holiday festivities and our whirlwind trip back to Texas to visit our families. More about the trip later.

I guess since it is January 2008 I should look back at 2007 and see what I learned.

I learned I am not a southerner. Though I try, I just seem to say what is on my mind more often than I should. This is not a good southern trait. I mistakenly thought that since I was from a southwestern state that was kind of the same thing. I was wrong. I miss Texas and imagine that one day we will return. But not today (or this year, for that matter).

I was reminded that I cannot do everything I want to do. I realized that in my previous life I would overdo a lot, but I also had four months off over the course of the year. No such luck nowadays. So, I learned that I need to be careful not to overdo now because there is no break from the madness. This is also the first of my New Year's resolutions.

Another resolution I have is to be more thankful for God's gifts rather than frustrated by their timing. I am resolved to make each moment an opportunity to find God's grace rather than a reason to be anxious about things that have not been done. I want to take every opportunity to swing my children in the air rather than to waste these moments checking my email messages. And, rather than marvel at the many things we need to do, I am going to rejoice at what God is doing now.

So, my trip to Texas was interesting. I got to see most of my family, including my grandmother. I had not seen her since Christmas 2005. I had a wonderful conversation with my father's brother who is about to enter the Catholic Church this Easter. It is amazing to hear him talk about spiritual things, something I never thought I would hear. His discussion of marriage and remarriage was insightful, especially since he has had to go through the process of getting a marriage annulled in order to enter the church. He said something to the effect that if he had thought about some things earlier in his life, he would have likely done things differently. I think this is an important thing the church can do--give us a clearer picture of ourselves.

I went to the Kimbell Art Museum and saw the exhibit "Picturing the Bible" a collection of the earliest Christian art. It was good, but a little anticlimactic. I got to eat some good Mexican food, but other than this, we did little. Shopped, talked, and enjoyed being with family. I had one moment where I forgot about the last couple of years all together. I had this feeling, like a dream or nightmare, that everything was as it was before we moved. For the first time, it was difficult for me to leave. The girls were ready to get home and play with their new toys, but I was a little sad to go for several reasons. Now, back at home, I do feel at home, just a little worse for the wear. I seem to have picked up another sinus infection due to all of the different climate changes. It is colder here in Florida than it was in Texas while we were there.

Anyway, just looking forward to finding normal again is a good start for the new year.

Peace.