Love Story

There is an old legend about a man who was very much in love with a woman. He told her of his love, and asked her feelings about him. She told him that she liked him, but she felt that his love was not really true. He promised her his undying love and devotion, and told her that he would do whatever it would take to show her his love.

"I would move the mountains for you,” he told her one day.

"If you really love me," she said, pointing to the largest mountain around, ''you will move that mountain to the other side of the road."

The man looked at the mountain and looked again at his love. He wasn't sure she was serious until she turned without another word and walked away. He decided to show her of his love, and went to the mountain immediately to get started. He began to move the rocks that had fallen to the mountain's base. He would pick up a large rock, and carry it across the road, laying it to rest at the future sight of her mountain. Several of the rocks were far too big to pick up, and he knew he should go home to get a sledgehammer to break them into smaller rocks that he could carry.

He returned to the mountain a few hours later with his sledgehammer and wheelbarrow and began to break up the larger rocks. He worked all through the night without even sitting down. As he took his first break, he looked toward the mountain's new home, and could not even tell he had done any work. After a short rest, he began to work even harder. After all, if he was to complete this work, he would have to give it everything he had. He worked until late in the evening before exhaustion forced him to sit down again. As he looked across the road toward the mountain's new home, he could barely see anything had changed.

He decided that he would work from the time the sun came up until the time the sun went down every day until he had moved the entire mountain. Each day, he would leave his house an hour before sunrise to go to work.  He would work non-stop until it was too dark to see in the evening. Within a couple of weeks, he left his house for good, and slept next to the mountain because he was too exhausted to walk back home. After a month of working, he began to see a small hill where the mountain was being reassembled. The excitement made him work even harder.

"Next time she walks this way," he thought, "she will see what I am doing, and she will

not doubt my love."

Every day, he would work so hard. And each day, he would hope she would walk by to see what he had done. Each time he would see someone coming ever the horizon, his heart was gladdened. Each time it turned out to be someone else, however, and his disappointment soon began to sting. Still he worked as hard as his body would let him. From first daylight to after dark, he would carry rocks and dirt across the road to add it to the mound he had made.

Soon after the young man had made the promise to the young lady, she had forgotten his words. She had not really been interested in him at all, and she thought her words to him had told him of her feelings. She went on with her life, and soon was being seen in town with another young man who she did like. As she would spend her days in the house, helping her mother with the chores, the young man was moving the mountain for her. As the days went on, though his body grew more and more tired, his love for her only grew deeper. The harder he worked, the more he loved her. The more he loved her, the harder he worked.

As the years went by, her mountain was being moved piece by piece. The man worked every day, all year long, in the hot summer, and the cold winter. Being outside all the time, his young body aged, and his skin grew hard and tough. Still, he labored every day, always giving it all he had. Each night, when it was too dark to see, he would collapse  exhausted, and not wake until the next morning.

Word got around that there was a man moving a mountain, and people became interested.

Some people knew that it was being moved because of love. Others simply thought this man must be crazy. He was arrested twice for the work he was doing.  After all, the mountain belonged to everyone. What right did he have to move it? He would spend some time in jail, hoping his love would come to see him. Though he was in jail a couple of weeks, his love never came.

When he got out of jail, he went right back to the mountain to continue his work. People lost interest in the man, and soon no one paid attention anymore. As more years passed, the strain began to take its toll. He became sick, and could not get better. But no matter how bad he felt, he would work from before sunup to after sundown, every day.

Each night, he would collapse. Each morning, he would hope that his love would come see him that day. He knew however, that he would work until he died to prove his love.

The man collapsed one night, forty years after he started the work for his love. He never woke up. Next to the man was a note that simply read "For my love".

By now, his love had married, and moved to another town. For his love, he had moved the entire mountain. He was laid to rest next to his completed work.

Several months after his death, the lady and her husband came back to visit the town. As they reached the edge of town, she noticed the mountain on the other side of the road.  It was only then that she remembered the promise of the young man, made so many years before. As she approached the base of the mountain, she read the board that marked the man's tomb. Simple like the note he had left, it read "It was for his love". Legend has it, the lady died later that night of a broken heart.

The lady was buried in a small town several miles away. Even after his life, the man was left alone. The name of the man has long been forgotten, as has the name of the lady. But the legend of this mountain continues to be told from generation to generation. There are still some people alive today that swear they have seen pictures from when the mountain was on the other side of the road. Though its name is not recorded on maps, the locals know it as lonely mountain. Strange sounds can be heard there just after sunset every night. They say one of the sounds is the man groaning as he collapses after a long day. Another sound is the sound of his heart breaking as he collapsed for the last time, finally realizing that his love would never come.

Sweet Sadie

Back in the Summer of 2007, my wife and I stopped by Petco after lunch to pet the puppies.  Fireplug rescue was there, and they were having adoptions.  We had no intention of getting one, but who can resist the sweet faces?

There, in a crate, was the sweet face of Birdie.  Something about the white eyelids caught my heart.  I opened the crate door to just pet her a little.  She stepped out, and put her front paws on my shoulders as if to hug me and say, "You've finally come to rescue me."  

We both knew instantly that she was ours.  We renamed her Sadie, and began a new life with her.  

We had a few trials along the way (she was storm-phobic).  You can read more about that here: Our Dogs

She ran away more than a few times when we lived in Grapevine.  We usually found her at the nearby park, happily standing against the base of a large oak, after treeing a squirrel.  Once, when Dawn was walking her, she got out of her collar, and ran into a horse pasture, where she happily rolled around in.....well, you know.  After several years (about the time we decided if she ran away, we would just wait to see if she came home again), she stopped trying to get away.

We have watched through the years as her health has had issues with fatty tumors.  She had one the size of a softball on her side that we had the vet remove.  Soon afterward, she began growing them everywhere.  They never seemed to bother her until recently, when her throat would make her cough and gag.  Years ago, that was once every five or six months, usually after eating something from the yard.  In the last year, she has started doing it three or four times a day.  

Her legs have weakened as well, and she is finding it harder to get up and down the stairs.  Since all the bedrooms are on the second floor, and she is not one to just stay downstairs alone, I knew it would eventually become an issue.  Yesterday morning, her left front leg once again acted as if it had a mind of its own.  She didn't tumble, although how she avoided it is a mystery to me.  

Over the past year, the eyes that were once so full of life have dimmed.  She can't see much, and her left eye is full of cloudy grey.  She can't hear much either (unless it is thundering).  So much of her time is spent looking around, wondering where her people are, even if we are just a few feet away.

And there are the accidents in the house.  It's not like she needs to go urgently; but more like she just really has no idea what is going on.  Cleanup has become a daily event.

So, it is with a heavy heart that we will take her to the vet tomorrow to say our last goodbyes.  

This afternoon was hers, with a trip to the park for a little picnic, and a half of a bacon cheeseburger from Sonic.  We walked around and let her sniff all she wanted instead of pulling her along.  We took some pictures with her.  Not so we will remember her.  A dog like her will live with us forever.  

After the thousands of dollars of damage she caused in her storm-fueled panics, and the countless sleepless nights trying to console her during a storm, it is time for her to find her rest.  To go to her home with no more storms, and no more pain.  A place for her to run free; like the happy, playful dog she was when we got her.

Tonight, I will make my bed in the floor with her to give her (and me) a few more hours together.  And tomorrow, we will accompany her on her last journey here.  Knowing that dogs have only a few years here, and that this is just "the way it is" doesn't provide comfort.  But if I live to be a hundred, I will always remember Birdie, who became our Sadie.  And her unique personality will be a part of our lives forever.

We Have The RIGHT To Defend Ourselves

If you are a wildebeest in Africa, you face a threat daily.  Wander from the herd, and you are on the menu.  Get weak, ill or old, and you may find yourself facing off against a lion, or two...or three.

Thankfully, you are not a wildebeest.  If you were, you wouldn't be reading this.  I don't know of any Saharan animals who can afford a computer or can get reliable internet service.  Plus, typing with hooves tends to lead to all kinds of websites that could get one in trouble.

But you may still find yourself facing an imminent threat at some point in your life.

A lion will seldom attack a herd of animals.  It will look for the smaller, slower ones to attack.  A pride will surround a herd, and run them around until they can separate one.  The obvious idea here is to travel in a pack.  (I won't call it a herd for fear of upsetting the one or two people who may actually be reading this).

But since it is hard to always travel with several other people, what else can you do?

Don't be the slowest or weakest of the herd.  Hit the gym; do some cardio; learn self-defense...

Just my opinion here, and I'm sure I'll offend at least one of the few people who may be reading this, but self-defense can be learned in a lot of different ways.  "Martial Arts" are what most people think of when they hear "self-defense".  And while Karate and Tae Kwon Do can teach a lot of great things, they may not be what you need to truly defend yourself.  Yes, I know...I've seen the videos of people in street fights being knocked out by a spinning back-kick too.  But how long does it take to get proficient enough to do that?  And what happens if the criminal isn't willing to wait for you to reach that point before attacking?

To me, it is much more important to learn real-life skills that you can use to defend yourself right from the beginning.  Learning dozens of katas before being able to actually use it isn't what I would want to learn.

After spending a few years in Krav Maga, I truly feel it is one of the best defense systems out there.  Yes, there are others that are also great.  Learning a skill the first week that may help save your life is much more worth it to me.  Krav Maga can be used whether you are 10 or 80.  It is designed to be used by men or women, and regardless of your size or strength level. And if you are in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, you can learn from a great man who truly wants to teach you in a way you can learn it.  Steve Hickman at Legacy Krav Maga.

But let's assume you are not able to get yourself into a class.  Maybe you are at an age where you feel unable (or unwilling) to get into shape.  You have become one of the wildebeests who may get separated from the herd.  What do you do?

You have the right to defend yourself, regardless of your age, shape or ability.

So let's look at a few alternatives to physical defenses...

Stun guns were all the rage when they first came to the market.  There are a couple of problems, however.  The most obvious to me is that you have to be right next to the assailant.  Since most attackers aren't going to attack someone larger than themselves, this puts the stun gun user at an immediate disadvantage.  If you are close enough to get the stun gun against him, he is already close enough to grab you, punch you, etc.  And if they assailant is wearing a coat, or thick clothing, it might not even do any good anyway.  And since these work on batteries, you have to always insure the batteries are charged and ready to use.

And there are tasers, much like the police use.  These have the advantage of being able to hit an attacker from several feet away.  And, depending on whom you ask, they can be much more effective than a stun gun.  But you still have to get the probes through whatever clothing they may be wearing.

And we can go back to the battery argument as well.

Pepper spray: no batteries required.

Pepper spray has been touted as an effective, non-lethal form of protection.  Sprayed into the face of an attacker, it can immobilize and temporarily blind the attacker, allowing the victim to escape.

But if it is a windy day, you stand the risk of inhaling the vapors yourself, or at least missing the attacker.  And I've seen videos of police pepper spraying someone, and having it NOT seem to affect the person at all.

And there is always a knife.  Not like the one shown, since in most states, it is illegal to carry one like this.  But you can certainly carry a decent sized knife (in the state of Texas, you can carry up to a 5 1/2" blade.
   
But a knife has the disadvantage of a stun gun.  You must be in a hand-to-hand situation for it to do any good.  It will not immobilize the attacker, and so must be used until the threat ceases.  And, it's a messy and disturbing choice.

Which leads us to my personal choice: a handgun.

So let the arguments begin!

Let's get the discussion started with gun control.  For my liberal friends (yes I have them), I want to go back to the lion and wildebeest for a moment.  You feel I should not be allowed to own (or carry) a firearm.  If the lion attacks, the wildebeest has the right to defend itself.  And it will use its horns to do so.  The argument that guns make the world unsafe is to tell the wildebeest that he has to give up his horns.

If we remove the horns from the wildebeest, we do not disarm the lion.  And rest assured, the lion will not decide he should NOT attack the wildebeest because it would not be fair.  The only thing that accomplishes is make sure the prey has no way to defend itself.

Disarming me (or any other American with the right to own and/or carry), will not disarm the criminal.  And it will certainly NOT persuade the criminal to NOT attack.  All it does is make sure I cannot defend myself when attacked.

If I am a criminal, and I want to kill as many people as possible, I will not choose a gun store.  I will not walk into a police station.  I am going to a school, or a mall where a 30.06 sign is posted.  I will find a place where guns are prohibited.  I do not want to take a chance that someone there will shoot me before I have the opportunity to inflict as much damage as possible.

And let me explain the main purpose behind this blog:

As Steve Hickman told us during one of our Krav Maga classes:

"You have a responsibility to return to your family every day."  

It is my responsibility to make sure that happens.  If I feel confident enough in my 5'7", 190 lb. build, then that's all I need.  (I certainly do not feel that confident in my size).  I have decent strength for a 50-year-old.  But that is not enough.  I'm much more confident with what Krav Maga has taught me.  But against two or three (or more), would that be enough?  What if they assailants have a knife, or gun?

Bruce Lee was arguably the greatest martial artist ever.  But even his amazing abilities would not have protected him against a bullet.

It has been quoted many times: "The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun."

True.

Many of the proponents of gun control are protected by bodyguards who are carrying guns.  Why?  If guns are the issue, they are part of the problem, not the solution.  And we have police to call when we are attacked.  Why?  Because they have guns, and can stop the bad guys with guns.

So make your choice.

Whatever your choice is, know that I will help defend you to the best of my ability.  With my 5'7", 190 lb build, my strength, such as it is, my Krav Maga skills, and, most likely, my gun.  Because that is my right.

And while I never want to offend anyone, if you choose to be offended, then that is your right.

I pray I never need to prove my willingness to defend either of us.
         

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas!

December 25, 2016.

And this blog is dedicated specifically to those who serve to keep us safe all year long.  

To the Armed Forces of these United States:

For spending months at a time away from family and friends to serve wherever you are sent.  For standing in the gap, in harm's way, to insure we sleep safely at home.  While we open presents with family who is here, know that you are in our thoughts and prayers today.  

We are thankful for your service, and pray for your safe keeping.  

And, especially for my son, who is somewhere underwater, I'm incredibly proud and honored to have you.  I love you very much, and miss you more this Christmas than I have in years past.  I'm grateful for your service, and can't wait to see you when you get back.

For Police Officers:

You put on your uniforms at the beginning of your shift, and patrol the streets, keeping us safe.  You never know, as you stop each car for a simple brake light out, what you might be facing.  For the angry protesters who appear to wish you harm, and those who angrily complain about a ticket they got for speeding; know that there are countless more of us who are grateful to you for your service.  

To the firefighters:

You voluntarily run into a burning building, or reach into a burning car, to save us from harm.  To know you are there whenever we need you is a great comfort.  You spend each day training to insure you can to rescue us if the need arises.  Know that we are grateful for your service, and we remember you this day as well.


To those who protect and serve, wherever you are; know that you are in our thoughts and prayers this day, and we wish you all a merry, and SAFE, Christmas.

Lancelot and the Christmas Meal

Everyone knows that Sir Lancelot was one of the bravest knights in Camelot.  Most people, however, do not know that he was an extraordinary cook. 

Arthur had the best cook in the land obviously, but allowed Lancelot to cook on certain occasions. 

This angered the cook, who felt his position was challenged.  In a fit of anger one day, he challenged the knight to see who could cook the best meal for King Arthur and his court.  Word spread to the king, who decided to make it a huge contest.

They settled on Christmas evening, when the cook and knight would each prepare their finest meal, and King Arthur would decide which one did the best job.

After several people told the cook that he was a fool for making such a challenge, the cook began to doubt himself.  After all, what if Lancelot actually prepared a better meal?  What would become of him?

So he bribed one of Lancelot’s squires to get the exact recipe that Lancelot was making, and give it to him.  If he prepared the meal exactly the way Lancelot did, the king could not pick the knight over the cook.  The squire accepted the deal, but later realized he could not betray the brave knight that way, and confessed the deal to Sir Lancelot.

The wise knight convinced the squire that he should not tell anyone that he had betrayed the trust of the cook.  He set about to thwart the cook’s dastardly plan.

He didn’t want to change the recipe, since duck breast with a rich Hollandaise sauce was the King’s very favorite meal.  He decided instead to present it in a way the cook could not. 

The cook would certainly serve the meal on the very best silver platter in the palace.  But the cook didn’t get out of the kitchen much, and never left the castle.  He was unaware that a silversmith in Ludlow had discovered that by melting different ores together, he had come up with a coating that was even shinier than silver.  The silversmith was Hawthorne Krome, and he titled his new discovery “Krome”.

Christmas evening came, and the kitchen was a rush of activity.  The cook and knight each hurried themselves with preparations.  The cook slyly knew that he was preparing the exact same dish as Lancelot, and felt sure he had outdone himself.  At the very least, his dish would be every bit as good as the knight’s.

Both meals were presented, and Arthur delighted in them both.  When the time came to announce the winner, the entire hall fell silent.  Cheers went up when it was declared that Lancelot’s meal had been chosen to be the better of the two. 

The chef loudly protested, saying he had prepared the exact same meal, the exact same way.  Arthur pondered for a moment, and looked at the disheartened chef. 

“It was his presentation,” he finally said.  “Yes, yours was delicious as well, but his platter was much shinier and nicer looking than yours.”

Which just goes to show:

There’s no plate like chrome for the Hollandaise.

A New Low

Have we really sunken so low?

In less than 48 hours, we will know whether we have elected a crass, rude, jerk, who has so much money he has lost touch with reality; or a lying, cheating socialist.

Okay…now that I’ve offended everyone, let me continue to lament.

Watching television the other night, there was a story about how all other countries are watching our elections.  I for one was rather embarrassed.  We must look like a joke to the rest of the world. 

How is it in 2016, we don’t have more qualified people to vote for?  In a nation of 319 million people, we can’t find a handful of candidates who have the moral and ethical fiber we need? 

For the past several elections, it has come down to me voting for the candidate I dislike the least.  It’s no longer a matter of who I think it best for our country; it is who is NOT the worst?

I came up with some reasons why we are lacking decent qualified people:

•        If you don’t have enough money, there is no need to even consider running.  That rules out the vast majority of everyone.
• 
  
•       If you don’t want your family subjected to countless hours of mud-slinging hatred, you have no desire to run.
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•             If you are concerned with offending people, you likely aren’t even elected to office anywhere, and the chances of even getting on a ballot are slim and none.
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•         Unfortunately, if you are a decent, honest person, who believes in a moral right and wrong, and tries to live a principled lifestyle, the vocal minority will raise enough money to insure you never get anywhere.

Let me just step up on my soap box for a moment and get something off my chest…

If you don’t vote in the election, I don’t want to hear you complaining about anything.  If you vote, and your candidate loses, you have the right to be unhappy.  You have the right to complain.  These are guaranteed by the first amendment.  But if you don’t vote, I don’t want to hear it. 

In 2012, it is reported that 57.5% of eligible voters actually voted.  For whatever reason, 42.5% decided it was not worth their time.  Yes, I know; there are reasons some people are unable to vote.  But that number is nowhere near 42%.  And I understand some of it at least.  If there isn’t anyone worth voting for, what’s the point?  The point is we have a right and a responsibility to do so.  Countless men and women have died to protect that right.  So if you don’t vote; shut up.

I feel a little better.  What?  I offended someone else?  That’s okay.  I’m offended by watching and listening to the crud being broadcast about the elections and the candidates.  I don’t want either one of them to win.  I had the option to vote for someone else, of course.  But to vote for a third party was to almost insure my vote went for the candidate I dislike the most.

And this is where, as a Christian, I run into part of my calling where it is really hard.  I’m told that no matter who wins, I am to support them, pray for them, and respect them.

Ouch.

I have the right and responsibility to vote my conscience (though no candidates seem to care what my conscience says anymore).  And I did.  But if the worst one wins, I don’t get to hate, or even disrespect them.  I don’t have the right to wish them harm or hope for some kind of tragic circumstance to happen to them. 

When our last president won his first election, I comforted myself by saying that I respect the office, even if I don’t respect the person.  But I can’t justify that anymore, either. 

It isn’t as if God will sit on His throne, and throw back His head, saying, “I can’t believe won.”

He knew before He ever formed the Earth who was going to win the elections in 2016.  And whether we understand it or not, it is all within His plan.  And I confess, I seldom understand it.  But I don’t have to.  And neither do you.

If you are a Christian, I trust you voted.  It doesn’t matter whom you voted for.  Now I believe we will stand accountable for our actions, including voting.  But you owe me no explanation.  You merely need to be able to justify it to Him on the day we face Him.  And I trust you have been praying for our country. 

Earnestly.

Are we standing in the gap between a country that has fallen so far from where it began, and the Holy God who has blessed us so abundantly?   Or have we become like Jonah; waiting expectantly for God to destroy the evil?  God has called us to pray for our leaders.  We are to honor and respect authority.

Romans 13 tells us we are to be subject to governing authorities.  It tells us that all authority is instituted by God, and if we resist that authority, we are resisting what God has appointed. 

I will be disappointed by whichever candidate wins.  One a little less than the other.  But no matter what the outcome of the election, one of them will be my new President.  I will honor them.  I will respect them.  And I will lift them up in prayer. 

To do anything else, is to go against what my Holy God has commanded me to do. 

Not Quite What I Remember

So let me start with a confession.  

I am just a big kid.  

When I was a kid, my favorite cereal in the world was Franken Berry.  (For those unaware, it is a strawberry flavored cereal with marshmallows).  It was sad that it only came out during the Halloween season.  

For the past several years, I have seen it in stores during October, and often thought about buying some to revive old taste buds.  

This year, I finally broke.  I bought some to have for dessert at night.  And the other night, I excitedly got a bowl, and sat down to enjoy my special treat.  

It was not quite what I remember.  In fact, it was nothing like I remember.  Well, okay...it was still strawberry flavor.  

The marshmallows were okay.  But the cereal itself was something on the South end of disappointing.  I suppose it was better than dog food might be (although, when I was a kid, I kind of liked a product called "Doggy Donuts).  But I digress.  

I found myself just working to finish the bowl.  

How sad.  

Something I remember as being so wonderful just wasn't all that good.  Was it that I had lower standards back then?  Did they change the formula over the years?  Or have foods become so much sweeter through the years that what was sweet back then is like cardboard now?

I hear people talking about how awesome it was when they were in high school.  Bruce Springsteen sings about "Glory Days".  I think about what it would be like to go back, knowing what I know now. Yes, there are things I would change.  I'm over 50 now, but I wouldn't go back to my teenage years for anything.  

How much time is lost, longing for what was?  How can we enjoy life if we are too busy missing what we no longer have?  

When I was a kid, I didn't have a truck payment.  I lived at home, rent free.  I didn't have electric bills, or water bills.  I didn't have to go to work every single day.  I got to sleep in on the weekends until noon if I wanted to.  Friday and Saturday nights were spent at the arcade, and riding go karts, and whatever else we felt like doing.  

Now, I get up at 4 to 6 AM, and work ten to twelve hours a day.  Friday and Saturday nights are spent at home, looking through work for the next day.  Maybe taking the evening off, and watching TV.  I can't not work because I have a huge house payment, a truck payment, electric bills, water bills, insurance bills, cable bills, etc.  I have a wife, a mother-in-law, and three dogs living in the house.  There is seldom time to just sit and do nothing.

But in the last few years, God has shown me how to be thankful for things I always saw as negatives.

I'm thankful for a huge house payment because that means I have a nice home to come home to every evening.  Some people live in a cardboard box (or worse).

I'm thankful for a huge electric bill because it means I have heat and AC, and lights.  Some people freeze in winter, and swelter in summer because they don't have electricity.

I'm thankful to "have to" get up early every morning because it means I have a job to go to.  I have spent months looking through ads, trying to make ends meet on unemployment.  And I have the physical ability to go to work every day.  How many people are suffering from a disease, and would love nothing more than to be able to work?

I choose to be thankful for what I have now.  And I choose to not wish I could have what I thought was so good.

Wherever you are, and whatever is going on in your life now, choose to be thankful.  Thankful for what you have.  (If you are reading this, you have internet and access to a computer).  And you have eyes that can see, a brain that can comprehend, and the ability to read.  

It could be so much worse.

Now I just have to figure out what to do with an almost full box of Franken Berry.

What Kind of God Is This?

I'll answer the question in three words:

A personal one.

Now, if you want more explanation, read on.

I want you to read this post slowly.  I know I sometimes rant, and chase rabbits, so I'll try to stick with the main points for this one.  I want you to truly comprehend some of the truths I have been shown through the years.  There have been many times when I got quiet, and truly observed things, and felt the wondrous majesty of this Holy, Awesome God.

God, who created everything that was ever created.

God, who spoke the universe into existence.  A universe that continues to expand still.

Yet this God isn't sitting out in the eternal heavens, untouchable or unapproachable.

Genesis 1 tells us that when He formed the Earth, it was void and without form.  He could have left it the way it was.  You and I would never have known the difference.  It could all be flat, and plain and black and white.  But He is a personal God.

He loved you and I before He ever formed the Earth.  He knew I loved mountains.  I especially love huge, rock mountains.  Sure, the Smokey Mountains are pretty.  The tallest peak is 6,643 foot Clingmans Dome.  I prefer the Western part of the country.  The mountains are not covered in trees, and are more than twice that tall.  My wife prefers the beach.  Some people's idea of beauty is a meadow covered in flowers.

God is a personal God, and He created the world where we could all find the beauty we enjoy.  He wants us to be happy in His creation.

If I wore an orange shirt with purple pants, blue shoes, yellow socks, red belt and a pink hat, I would look ridiculous.  Who would mix those colors?  Look at the sunrise and sunset, and the magnificent colors displayed.  Yes, I understand that there is dust, water vapor, etc. that create the different hues.  But, again, it could have all been black and white, and we never would have known what we are missing.

And this same God, who cares so much about us that He created such a glorious world, cares no less for our feelings and emotions.  

And He provided a way for us to be accepted into His family.  Why?

Because He's a personal God.  And He loves you.

Teaching an Old Dog a New Trick

Where did the saying, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks," come from?

I did some looking, and found the phrase is incredibly old.  In fact, one source claimed that in the 1500's, it was known as an old saying.  I started to dig deeper, and suddenly realized I didn't care.

But after spending 23 years in the technical field, telecommunications, computers and networking, I found myself out of work.  It was pretty upsetting at first.  I knew God was going to take care of me; that was not a concern.  But I had once again found myself at a crossroads.  And it was again time to decide what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I've known a handful of people who "have always known" what they wanted to be.  Some who wanted to be a nurse, or a lawyer grew up to become just that.  But it seems like the majority of those I know are working in a field that chose them, not the other way around.  I never chose computers; they chose me.  

I had worked as a busboy, waiter, cashier, assembly line worker, inspector, driver, etc.  I had worked everything from fast food to a defense contractor.  When my holiday stint as a driver for UPS ended, a friend from church asked if I knew anything about phones.  

"Absolutely," I replied.  "I can make calls, answer calls, pick up the phone, hang up the phone, use a phone book...I could go on..."

He owned a telecommunications company, and hired me.  After almost five years, I left to join another company in a help desk position, working on computers and the network.  During times of unemployment through the years, I wondered if I wanted to get back into the computer field.  But I was seldom out of work for long.  Technology is always advancing, and there is always a need.

When I lost my job at the age of 49, I started looking into another computer job, mainly with the titles of Network Administrator, or Applications Administrator.  After all, that's what I had been doing for the last 20 years.  It only stood to reason that I was most suited for a job doing the same thing.  And in spite of the fact that I didn't really choose that line of work, it had been a decent living for me.  

After almost four months of unemployment, and searching for a job full-time, a friend at church (is there a pattern here?), told me about a company hiring a couple of people in his school district.  He didn't know anything about the company or the jobs they were hiring for, but he gave me the name of the company.  On a whim, I looked them up, saw they were hiring for the position of Energy Specialist.

"I wonder what that even means," I wondered.

Looking through information on the company website, it sounded interesting, but nothing like anything I had ever done.  I had no experience at all.  

"I can't do that," the familiar thought came.  "But I might as well submit an application anyway."

That was in February, 2016.  I went for an information session, and learned more about the company, what they did, and what they were looking for.  It was interesting.  But I was sitting with 30 other people, and all of them looked to me like better candidates.  When they called me for a second session, and told me it was an actual interview, I was a little surprised.  

I went to the interview, and was asked a couple of questions, and then they were done.  It felt like little more than a formality.  Like they were giving interviews to everyone just to be polite.  They thanked me for my time, and I went back home, knowing that was the last I would hear from them unless they actually sent an email or letter, telling me they had hired someone else.

A couple of weeks later, I received a call with a job offer.  It was quite a bit less than I had been making, but more than I was expecting.  But I still had no idea what the job would entail.

They had told me it would be a lot of hours in the beginning.  My first week was spent in training.  And for the first five or six weeks of working in the district, I averaged 70-80 hours.  Six months in, and it has settled to between 50 and 60 hours a week.  

So what is it I do?  Thank you for asking.  I know you are incredibly interested in everything I do.  (that was sarcasm for those of you who don't know me well).

I am an Energy Specialist in a local school district.  My company places Energy Specialists in school districts to help them save money on their energy costs.  Instead of spending money on utilities, we free up that money so it can be put back into the education system.  I won't bore everyone (all 5 or 10 people who actually read this) with all of the details.  There is a lot to what I do every day.  Years ago, someone made a comment about working with kids.

"It's like trying to hold 20 ping pong balls under water all at once."

I now understand that saying.  Between getting bills entered, checking the data, scheduling events, verifying building usage for those events, working with consultants when they come in to the office, working with the staff at all nineteen of my campuses, tracking utility usage, working with the AC guys to get issues resolved, and working on comfort issues at each campus, I frequently find myself looking at the clock, and wondering where the day went.  Then I look at the list of things left to do, and it doesn't look any shorter.  And then there are the 20-25 audits I have to do each week on the buildings.  Most of those have to be done when the buildings are unoccupied.  So, during the school year, I sometimes get up and going at 5 AM to do a couple before people get there.  I work some in the evenings after they have gone.  And my Saturdays and Sundays are spent walking campuses.

We were having dinner with my brother and sister-in-law a few months ago, and he asked my wife what she thought of the long hours I was working.  

"I think it's great," she replied.

I thought about being hurt by that comment, but she explained that it had been years since I had come home in a really good mood.  And I had already told them that in spite of working 70-80 hours, I had more energy than I had felt in a long time.  Yes, I'm tired, and I haven't had a real day off except for a weekend we went to see my son in Seattle back in July.  But it has been great.  The work feels much more fulfilling, though I'm not really sure why.

I think I'm much better suited to this job (or it is better suited to me).  And in spite of the massive amounts of learning (old dog new trick) that is involved, I have been incredibly impressed with the support they provide.  They hire the best of the best for their consultants.  So many of them retired from careers in HVAC or engineering, and were then hired by our company.  We have the best people in the industry at our fingertips.  

They all have said, "If you have any questions, give me a call."  

Unlike others, who say they are there to help, and then are unavailable any time you need them, I have never had trouble getting in touch with any of them.  And they are always happy and willing to help.  So much of what I'm doing involves working on systems I've never known anything about before.  But the best and brightest are always a phone call or email away.  They may be on a plane at the time, but they always respond as soon as they can.  And they patiently take the time to help.

So I'm learning you can teach an old dog new tricks.  If you are willing to devote the time and effort necessary to actually teach.

Thank you, Mark for telling me about this job.

Thank you to my company, for giving me a chance.

Thank you to my wife, for understanding the long, often strange hours.

And thank you, LORD, for orchestrating everything necessary to lead me here.

Are You Compatible?

I have to admit; I hate the ads.

You know the ones.

"I can get a date myself," the girl exclaims.

"How's that working for you?"

She remembers her bad dates, and decides she needs to sign up.

They have questions you fill out and it tells you who you are compatible with.  I guess that makes sense, but I think they are missing the bigger picture.  And I think the vast majority of people have fallen right in line behind them, and accepted what they say.

If I were to think of my wife and I, I'm not sure we would be all that compatible if we were to take a test.  I love shooting, four-wheeling, watching football and UFC.  She wants shopping, wine and HGTV.  I would love to own a motorcycle to cruise around on.  She thinks that's the worse idea ever.  My idea of the best vacation spots are the Western desert states.  I love Arizona and Utah.  Her first choice would be a week sitting on a beach somewhere.

But what I've learned about compatibility doesn't match E-Harmony's philosophy, and maybe not even common sense.  My wife and I are compatible because we choose to be.  She still doesn't want me to get a motorcycle, and I still can't picture her enjoying shooting.  But we find things we enjoy doing together.  Yes, there are times I watch football downstairs, while she and her mother watch HGTV upstairs.  Or I may go to the range while they go get their nails done.  But the majority of the time, we watch shows together that we both enjoy.  She loves shopping.  Like most men, I don't shop; I hunt.  I know what I'm looking for, and I go get it.  Done.  (Unless it's a Cabela's or Bass Pro).  But I spend some afternoons at the mall with her, shopping.  I make fun of some of the clothes I see, or act silly about things.  And I do it because I'm having fun.  I'm with my beautiful wife, walking around a mall.  And she enjoys it.  So I have learned to enjoy it also.

I'm not a big Steely Dan fan.  But she got tickets to a concert, and I had a great time.  The music was pretty good.  The fact that we were in a suite made it much more fun.  But the best part was just spending time with her, doing something she really wanted to do.  I'm not a bed and breakfast kind of guy.  I'm much more comfortable in a Holiday Inn than a Betty-Bird's Bungalow.  But I have surprised her with a couple of weekend trips out of town.  Once was to a bed and breakfast in Jefferson, TX.  (Also a place I likely would not have chosen to go).  But I had a wonderful weekend.  We also stayed at Biscuit Hill B&B.  Again, not what I would choose, but I had a great time with her. She has surprised me with tickets to a concert for Andrea Bocelli, whom I absolutely love.  Years ago, she suggested we go to Putt Putt and go kart riding.  Absolutely not her style, but it was fun.  I assume she enjoyed it.  I know I did.

"Well, why should I spend time doing things I would not normally choose to do, if I can answer questions, and find someone who already loves doing what I love doing?"

When I was fifteen, I worked in a steakhouse.  Every night for break, several of the workers would sit together and have dinner.  Most of us would have baked potatoes (because they were free).  I had mine with butter and bacon bits.  Everyone else topped theirs with butter and sour cream.  I hated sour cream.  At least I thought I did.  But they made it look so good.  After trying it, I realized I loved my potato with more than just butter.

Sure, I could have chosen to not eat with people who put sour cream on their potatoes.  But I might not have ever realized how much better my potato could be.

So now I've compared my wife to sour cream.  Guess I'll be sleeping in the guest room tonight.

Why are there so many restaurants?  Because there are so many different tastes.  If you went to a restaurant where they only served cedar plank salmon with asparagus, how often would you go there?  If that was your favorite meal, it would be fine; for awhile at least.  But how long would they stay in business?

I have my list of favorite restaurants.  Some of them are also on my wife's list.  But some aren't.  So we may go to my choice one time, and hers another.

And it's not really even about compromise.

To me, compromise is about settling for something that neither of you really wanted, just so you can both accept the decision.  I want a nice steak for dinner, and she wants just vegetables or a salad.  A compromise would be eating at a restaurant that has okay steak and decent vegetables, so we can both sort of get what we want.

Compatibility may be about branching out to find a new restaurant neither of us might have ever tried.  And we might not like one or two that we try.  But the point is to choose to enjoy the search together.  Eventually, we can find somewhere that has great steak, and great vegetables.  We both enjoy the meal, and neither had to settle.

It's all about the journey.

We like to laugh about our "adventures".  It seems any time we do something, all kinds of things go wrong.  But we have learned to laugh about it.  Maybe not right in the moment, but later, it is a reminder that we can have fun, even when things aren't going as planned.

We went to Seattle in July to visit my son.  One afternoon, while he was still at work, we spent the day in the city.  We tried a do nut shop we had seen on a show we like to watch.  (One I would not originally have considered watching, but learned I loved it after watching it a few times).  After the do nut shop, we rode the monorail to the Space Needle.  Then we rode the monorail back.  It was a simple matter to find the garage we had parked in.

We must have walked six miles, trying to find the parking garage.  I was frustrated, because I have always had a great sense of direction.  But we spent a good two hours, trying to find the car.  My wife was patient, and didn't gripe at all.  That was a great thing because I was griping enough at myself to cover both of us.  We finally found the garage, and the car.  And it became something we laughed about (later).

Before our first date, if you had told my wife that I would drag her up and down the streets of Seattle for two or three hours trying to find the car, she may have decided I wasn't for her.  If you told me before our first date that she was a beach-lover who loved shopping and watching HGTV, I might have wondered how compatible we might be.  Like any relationship, we learn and grow together.  We could have allowed the differences to push us apart, and decide we just weren't compatible.  The vast majority of people would understand.

Some areas in our lives were compatible.  Some were not.  But instead of focusing on the areas that were not, we focused on those that were at first.  And along the way, we have created compatibility.

"Life's too short to be unhappy."

I agree completely.

So I choose to be happy.  And I choose to do it with my wife.  Does she occasionally irritate me?  Sure.  Do I ever aggravate her?  I absolutely drive her up the wall.

But here we are, nineteen plus years into the marriage.  And we are far more compatible than we were even a couple of years ago.

It doesn't just happen.

Compatibility = work.

We have the misconception that love should be easy.  If it is hard, it wasn't meant to be.  And we use the "we just aren't compatible" as a shortcut to get out of a situation that may be a little uncomfortable, or isn't "fun" at the moment.

"We have irreconcilable differences."

Really?  You can't reconcile?  Or you refuse to because it isn't fun anymore?  Someone else might be more compatible.

The next time you are having a tough day at work, just quit.

You need to lose a few pounds?  Well, diet and....wait that isn't fun.  Just keep eating donuts and pizza, and enjoy life.

In either scenario, you end up miserable anyway.  Quit your job, and you can't pay your bills, and you lose your home.  Eat whatever you want, and ankles, knees, hips and back hurt, and you are at risk of a heart attack.

That doesn't sound fun at all to me.

Life is a journey.  We want to enjoy the view from the top of the mountain.  But on the way, it will be hard work.  If we persevere, we will be rewarded.

I get to learn about my wife on this journey.  Who she is, and what she likes, and doesn't.

We have chosen to create compatibility.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Fall

It is now September 23rd, two days after the official start of Autumn.  This is my favorite time of the year.

As a child, it meant the start of a new school year.  I didn't do particularly well in school, so it wasn't that I loved the studying or learning aspect of it.  But I loved getting to see friends again.  And I loved the excited feeling of beginning a new grade.

In high school, it meant the start of hunting season.  I've never been much of a hunter, really.  Actually, I don't classify myself as any kind of hunter.  Our hunting trips usually meant shooting our limit of coke cans and plastic bottles.  But I loved being outdoors, camping and shooting.  And I loved hanging out with my best friend, Dewayne (everyone called him Bubba).  I loved the early morning campfires, and the cold in my face.  Some of my favorite memories were of those trips to his family's land in Brownsboro.

It also meant the arrival of my favorite holidays.  I loved Halloween (I still do), and Christmas was my very favorite, for obvious reasons.  Presents, certainly, but it was so much more.  I love the festive lights and decorations; the pretty Christmas tree; and the fact that most of the family seemed happier during that time.

It meant my brother, Stuart, and I would begin our tradition of wrapping each other's presents in a way that disguised what might be inside.  Sometimes, that meant wrapping a coin he wanted to add to his collection inside a shoe box, with a large rock, and some thumbtacks in a Sucrets can.  Other times, I meant wrapping a small box in a larger box, in a larger box, etc.  And each one had to be individually wrapped to prolong the joy of unwrapping.

And the night before Christmas meant Stuart and I would be in our bunk beds, guessing what Santa had brought us.  When we were really young, it also meant a middle of the night trip to creep out through the hallways and peak, long before mom or dad were awake.  We didn't walk right in to see everything...just a tiny sliver of it.  Then at 6:00, when we had permission to wake them, it was off to dad's room to wake him, and then to mom's.  And we had to wait until they had a cup of coffee before we hurried to the front room, where Christmas was waiting.

I know a lot of people have grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins all around on Christmas morning. We only had the four of us.  But I never felt cheated.

Eggnog was also one of my favorite things about Christmas.  As an adult, I'm thankful it is only a Christmas-time treat.  If it were available all year, I would either grow sick of it, or weight 800 pounds.  Or both.

A lot of people like Fall, for various reasons.  The changing of the leaves is one I hear a lot.  Living in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex, we don't have as many tress as a lot of places, but I do enjoy the different colors around this time of year.

People here like the the Stock Show and Rodeo, and the State Fair.  I've never been to the Stock Show.  And I've only been to the Fair three or four times in my life.  I'm an animal lover, but the Stock Show just never seemed interesting to me.  Rodeos are kind of fun, and I've been to several, but not at the Stock Show.  The Fair can be fun, but I usually feel it is too crowded, and expensive, to warrant the hassle.  Granted, if my wife decides she wants to go, I'm game.  And I will have fun once I get there.  The few things I enjoy at the Fair are the car pavilions, the animals, and of course, the food.  Way overpriced, and just about as unhealthy as anything you could eat, some of the items are found nowhere else but the Fair.  And they deserve an entire blog all to themselves.  All that being said, I seldom feel a loss if I don't go.

My wife loves Fall because it means Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back at Starbucks.  I love pumpkin pie, but never found a taste for the PSL, as she longingly refers to her favorite coffee flavor.  And since the introduction several years ago, everyone seems to have jumped on the pumpkin spice bandwagon.  PS candy, gum, candles, snack cakes, Pop-Tarts....I was playing around on the Internet, building a Jeep Wrangler Unlimited, and it has the option of a pumpkin spice lift-kit.  Well, it doesn't, but I might suggest it.  At least PS wheels and tires.  If it catches on, they may give me a Jeep as a thank you.  I'll take mine without the pumpkin spice, please.

As an adult, one of the things I enjoy most about Autumn is the cooler weather.  I was never bothered by playing football, or soccer when it was 100° outside.  Now, even as an adult, if I'm invited to play soccer, I will happily join, although I can't run as long, as fast, or stay in the heat all day like I could in years past.  In general, the older I get, the more the heat bothers me.  And when the crispness of the Fall air begins to show, I find myself with a little more pep in my step.

Autumn also means we can sit outside occasionally in the evenings.  Generally, there are fewer bugs around, although it can also mean they are trying to find their way into our warm home.  I can sometimes drive with the windows down on the truck, which is great since my AC is getting temperamental in its old age.  And we can open the house windows in the evening for fresh air.  And the smell of fireplaces in the air puts a smile on my face.

So, in spite of the temperature being in the mid-nineties today, I know the cooler weather is just around the corner.  And with it, Halloween, fireplaces, open windows and Christmas.  And Pumpkin Spice Lattes.

War on the Blue?

So lately, there has been a call for the shooting of police officers.

I just want to make sure I understand.  Thugs who break the law, and assault a police officer are victims when the officer is forced to defend himself?

Fair enough.

So if you are one of those who decide you want to go against law enforcement, and want a target put on officers, that is your choice.

But if you are going to make that decision, you need to consider a couple of things.

1. When you wake in the middle of the night to thugs kicking in your front door to steal or kill your family, do not dial 911.  If you hate the police, you have no right to call on them when you need help. Call the drug dealer or gang member, and let them come to your aid.

2.  If you are willing to assault a police officer, know that there may be someone like me nearby, who will NOT stand idly by, waiting for you to finish the job.  You will quickly find yourself outnumbered, fighting those willing to fight to the death to defend our brothers and sisters in blue.

3.  You are the minority in this war.

There are millions of us who appreciate the work the police do day in and day out.  Are there some officers who are racist?  Probably.  But the vast majority of officers are honest, good men and women who uphold the law, regardless of the color of a person's skin.  And those of us who recognize that are highly offended by those of you who wish to do them harm.

To the men and women in blue: know that you have a lot of people on your side.

You don't know who I am.  You may never notice me.  I'm the one at the gas pump next to you, looking all around, just to make sure there are no potential threats to you.  I am the one parked outside the grocery store, waiting for my wife, also diligently watching the rest of the lot.  I thank God daily for you and the service you provide.  I pray for you daily, and that you will return to your family safely after your shift.  And I am sorry for the difficulties you face every day in a job that is already the most stressful.

I will forever watch out for you, wherever I am.

I am in your corner.

I have your six.

And I am not alone.

Becoming an Ephesians Kind of Husband

Ephesians 5:

25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her, 26 so that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, 27 that He might present to Himself the church in all her glory, having no spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that she would be holy and blameless. 28 So husbands ought also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He who loves his own wife loves himself; 29 for no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ also does the church, 30 because we are members of His body. 31 For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and shall be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. 32 This mystery is great; but I am speaking with reference to Christ and the church. 33 Nevertheless, each individual among you also is to love his own wife even as himself, and the wife must see to it that she respects her husband.

For the past year, I have been dealing with this issue.  We all know how we poke fun at this.  Men quote Ephesians 5:22: Wives, submit to your husbands, as unto the Lord.  And for many years, I was bothered that it didn't seem many women submitted to their husbands.  In fact, the last twenty years has seen men too often portrayed as bumbling fools.  How many commercials show a man trying to do something, and the wife comes to his rescue?  When did we decide that men had to be rescued because we were incapable of knowing how to do the simplest things?

But I digress...

I'm not a tough, macho kind of man.  I love playing sports, shooting, wrestling with my dog, and until recently, participated in a Krav Maga class.  (If you are unfamiliar, you can Google it).  So I'm not a wimp, certainly.  But I speak softly, and very seldom find anything worth arguing over.  I act like an idiot most of the time to make people laugh.  So if you were to walk into a room, and look for a man who would make a strong leader, you would likely look past me to someone taller, stronger and tougher looking.

Why would my wife submit to me?  If I were taller, stronger, louder, more assertive...more of a leader......

Blah, blah, blah.

I spent so many years wishing I could be someone else.  "If I looked like he does, my wife would love me more; respect me more," etc.

I began studying the Bible again for my own purposes.  From time to time, I would just bounce around and focus on certain areas.  Other times, I would find it hard to decide what I wanted to study.  It was during on of those time, I decided to just open the Bible and let it fall open.  It went to Ephesians 5.

"Well, that's dumb," I thought.  "I've studied that."

I wanted something different.  But something told me to really study it.  So I started reading through it quickly, knowing I knew the text.  I had taught it at least a couple of times in different ways.  And I taught it the way I feel it needed to be taught.

When discussing the Garden of Eden, we men tend to joke about Eve being the reason life is so hard.  But I think we all understand that she was tempted first.  Adam certainly would have also fallen if Satan had gone to him first.  And Adam willingly strayed.  Adam was held accountable.

So in teaching Ephesians 5, I had taught about how we are to love our wives as Christ loved the church, and gave Himself for her.  I know if it ever comes down to it, I will absolutely step in front of my wife to take a bullet to save her.  But what God began to reveal to me was much harder than that.

Harder than taking a bullet?  What could possibly be harder than that?

Living it.

As I taught this years ago, I tried to focus on being the type of man my wife would want to submit to.  I began truly praying for holiness.  I truly started seeking God to lead me in even the smallest things.  And I began to feel differently.  But something was still not right.  My relationship with my wife.

We don't fight.  We don't argue even, really.  There have been a couple of times, but overall, it feels like a pretty peaceful place.  But I kept going back to Ephesians 5.  For months, I kept wondering what God was trying to tell me.  I thought I was doing this right.  But He began to open my eyes to a deeper meaning in the words.

"...love your wife, as Christ loved the church...."

Yes, I understood.  Christ gave His life for the church.  I'm willing to do that.

"...love your wife, as Christ loves you...."

Okay.  Christ gave His life for me.  I'm willing...

"...love Dawn, as I have loved you..."

I've taken a couple of IQ tests (and not the silly ten question ones).  My scores were between 137 and 143.  So I don't consider myself ignorant.  But it still took awhile.  I began to really think about how Christ loves me.  I had to stop there.  I couldn't even consider loving my wife until I truly understood how He loved me.

That was eye opening in itself.  Yes, I know all of the Sunday School answers about God's love for me.  But I've never really understood it.  I tend to bash myself with "if you were better", or "God loves you, but"...  I found myself at the end of the day, realizing I had failed again, in one way or another.  Someone I was supposed to talk to, or something I wasn't supposed to do.  Irritation and bitterness over the situation at work.  Realizing that I hadn't been a "good Christian" that day left me wondering why God would choose to love me at all.

Yet, I know that Jesus Himself prays for me.

John 17:20 “I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word..."

Jesus was praying for His disciples, and also for those (us) who believe in Him through their (the disciples') word.

In spite of how I fail, Christ prays for me.  He stands before God to intercede when Satan accuses me.  The difference between me and Job is when Satan accuses me, he's absolutely right.

"God, look how Laron......"

Guilty as charged.

And Jesus answers that He has already paid for that.

I don't understand it, but I'll accept it.  It must hurt Christ horribly when I blatantly disregard His word.  When I go against His will.  When I ignore Him.  When I choose to follow my own path instead of His wiser, more loving way.  He died a death I can't fathom, to offer me a life with Him. Because He loves me.  And no matter how many times I fail, He is always there; loving me; praying for me.

Wow.

Revelation received.

This may come as a shock, but I married an imperfect woman.  Which is okay, because I'm far from a perfect man.

"...love Dawn as I love you..."

My biggest failure as a husband?  Being married for 16 years before realizing this.

When my wife does something that hurts me, I am not to try to punish her, or feel negatively toward her.  I am to love her.  I am to help her.  I am to pray for her.

Really?  It's okay when she accidentally forgets some little thing.  But I have to pray for her when she willingly does something she knows will hurt me?

"...love Dawn as I love you..."

I don't want to ever lose the love of Christ.  The Bible tells me it is impossible.  But I know I can choose to live outside His will for me.  And I don't ever want to lose the knowledge that He is praying for me, even when I have failed.

So I must be willing to love my wife the same way.

Thank you, Jesus, for loving me in a way I cannot comprehend.  Thank you for being willing to leave your home in Heaven to live in a fallen world.  For teaching us your way.  And most of all, for your grace and patience with one of your most stubborn pupils.  Thank you for praying for me even when I go astray.  Teach me every day to love my wife as you love me.

Pickin' Up Poop