HCLM BLOG

I'll start with a confession...it is good for the soul after all. I didn't want to come to the Student Ministry L-team last night. It's not that I don't love the students, I do...or that I don't enjoy our series, based on the movie, To Save a Life, I do. It was just that I had about 3 hours of sleep on Sunday night. Not sure why...just couldn't get my mind to slow down enough to sleep. So I was up at 1:30a. And I was cranky. Enough for the confession.

I got a late e-mail Friday night from the IRS saying there was a problem with my tax return and thus there would be a delay in the refund and would I please contact an IRS representative referencing a certain code. So with that hanging over my head all weekend I called at 8a Monday morning. After a 15 minute hold listening to tax music, I got a live person, who after listening to my story, put me on hold. More music...then nothing. The call dropped. Back to the 15 minute wait, new person...again on hold only to be dropped again. The third person I spoke with that morning promised me he wouldn't put me on hold and after 30 minutes with him, concluded that the problem was not several terrifying alternatives but rather due to the fact that because Margaret's name was listed first, they couldn't find the estimated taxes that I had claimed on the return. He transferred them over and said it should be processed in 2-3 weeks. So all that weekend anxiety for nothing. It seems that we tax payers have a tendency to do that a lot...worry about something that turns out to be nothing. Perhaps that is why "Fear not" was a favorite phrase for many angels.

I can remember this same refrain shouted by various friends throughout my childhood..."DO OVER!" Usually, it was a ball that hit a tree limb, a wire or something that, in their estimation, should constitute starting over from scratch. There are many times I wish life were that easy. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have a reset button like the old Atari game system in which we could begin again without any consequences, other than a few lost minutes?

I spent part of my day off yesterday at the pool at my gym. I wanted to do 80 laps and as I started, partly due to a lack of sleep the night before and part due to the tediousness of swimming back and forth, my motivation was lacking more than the Detroit Lions offense line...or defensive line...or...

I have always had a love for service projects. Perhaps it is the joy that comes from helping someone or maybe it is the re-focus away from selfishness that happens when you help someone else. One of our L-teams that has been active since October 2009 is our Helping Hands team led by Tom and Lyn Easton who share the same passion for service. They have completed thus far an extreme makeover on Country Club Road, two bathroom projects at the request of Seminole HEART and three home repairs for the Senior Intervention Group. They most recently called the team to action over the last few weeks to repair a home of a single mother who lived in Sanford who was going to be fined by the city if the tarp wasn't removed. There is a longer story that I could tell but suffice it to say that she has tried hard to take care of the problem. She has been denied by her insurance company, twice and was turned down for refinancing when the market went south. One of our members heard her story and in a wonderful example of teamwork, her church and Holy Cross completed a new roof on two Saturdays. She wanted to come and say thank you in person. We thought a video message would be a nice gesture.

So it's Friday...a typically happy fun day for people as they look forward to the weekend ahead. Here is a quick glimpse at mine. My pool pump has been practically inoperable for the last month which cuts down on the power bill but does also make for a nice swamp effect. I had worked on it over and over until I finally broke down and called someone who knows what they are doing. The good news...it even took HIM three hours to work on it. The bad news...it took him three hours to work on it. Then it was off the the doctor for my physical. Granted, I'm not a doctor (although I did marry one), but do I REALLY need to have my prostate checked? So all things considered, it hasn't been an especially fun Friday.

Last Monday I got a call from a couple that I had married just over a year ago. Her mother had been murdered in St. Pete (a community to which she had recently moved to). The killer was a very troubled man who killed his sister, her mom and shot two others who were at the house. He later killed a police officer in the standoff. He was shot 6 times and lived. Because the mom wasn't connected yet with a church body, they were just going to have a funeral at the funeral home by a stranger. The Holy Cross staff (Chris thanks for a great chapel for the Pre-school) was gracious enough to pick up my tasks that day and gave me the day to be with the family and do the service.

Wrapped up another night of confirmation. Just finished locking up the building and had a compelling feeling to share a few thoughts on the night (something I haven't done in a LONG time).

 We started the prayer packet tonight (the third packet in a series of seven). As we closed the night, I asked the kids to grab their Bible and spread out over the upstairs walkway. They were to spend the last ten minutes in quiet, just listening for God. No ipods, no cell phones, no talking. It was quite a site, 25 middle school students in complete silence wrapped all around the balcony. It brought to mind Psalms 46:10, "Be still, and know that I am God."

 Honestly, I needed that quiet moment more then they did. It was refreshing. A great way to end the day. A great way to start the day as well. While wallowing in the endless quagmire of busyness and activity, a still moment with God might be just what you need tonight as well. I need to do that more often.

I was at my childhood home last weekend celebrating the baptism of my brother's six children. Staying at my mom's house, I found myself alone with my sister's dog Diego while the woman went out to do...well, whatever women do when they get together. In my defense, this dog has never liked me. Loves everyone else but he has made a habit of growling at me whenever I'm around. For those that know me, you know that I'm a dog lover, an animal lover really. In fact, just last night, I saved a gecko from the grips of Margaret's cat. So my friend comes to the door and when I open it, Diego, seizing the opportunity, darts past us both into the front yard. After multiple attempts to corral the pup, he took off through the neighborhood with me, as Rosco P. Coltrain (of Dukes of Hazard fame) used to say, in hot pursuit. Several houses, one street and a creek later, he lost me. My friend went to his car and scoped the neighborhood for this dog. Three hours later, still no dog. Three hours and 1 minute later, my sister came home. My friend was worried about her reaction. I was more concerned about my two little nieces and nephew.

We all joined the search, talking to neighbors I haven't seen in 15 years but nothing. As the sun set, we regrouped at home. Periodically the children would go outside and yell, "Diego!" That made me feel great. I slept on the couch in case this dog would find his way home and bark to come in. I didn't sleep that night. The sound of thunder and the thought of a lost dog consumed me. I got up off the couch at 6a to ride the streets again. Still nothing. I am beginning to wonder how God must feel when one of his children get lost. Later I am thankful that I'm not God.

Sunday nothing. Sunday night now flurries. Monday morning we get a phone call that he is in the next town by a school (5 miles away). We dash over and search. Nothing. We get another call from the police department that has spotted him in the neighborhood. We dash over there. Margaret spots him in the backyard. Diego spots them and takes off again. We fly home. I wonder if it would have been better if I stayed at home. Still wondering how God lives with the thought of lost children.

Wednesday night my phone rings as I'm wrapping up confirmation. It's my sister. Someone has found Diego and has him in her garage. Five days later, this smelly dog comes home. I'm elated! Thinking about throwing a party. Also thinking about flying home again and yelling at Diego. I settle on thinking about how God must celebrate when a lost child returns. Still glad I am not God.

It was inevitable. I would have to tell Margaret what happened with the bike. After all, it is HER bike and I (hard to emphasize I) got in an accident. So after she got back from Bahrain, we were talking about how to spend the Thursday afternoon. She suggested talking the dogs for a walk, getting something to eat, taking the Hayabusa out for a ride..."Yeah, about the Busa" I said like a guilty teenager. She said she knew I was hiding something. (Being engaged to a PhD also has it's disadvantages.) Without any evidentuary hearing she exclaimed, "that's it. We're selling the bike." Now I really enjoy the bike. Really, really enjoy the bike. I quickly went into defense attorney mode and opened with my line, "but YOU said that we would sell it if I ever got hurt. See! I'm not hurt, not a scratch." She wasn't impressed with my defense strategy.

I'm not sure where we stand on the bike. Her dad votes for keeping it, as do I. But something tells me that she has more votes then her father and I. But what I'm really wondering is why I couldn't stop and enjoy the fact that the motivation behind her "we're selling" comment was love? She's concerned about my well-being. I was concerned about keeping the bike. Sorry Dr. Christmas. Perhaps I need to get a PhD.

Another question...why am I leaving 80+ degree weather and a nice spot lying by my pool to go to Michigan where, according the weather channel, there is a chance of show showers? That one is easier, my brother is having all six of his children baptized this Sunday.