A song I'm not going to be able to play well enough to match whats in my head, so it'll just be a poem for now...
Have you ever seen a dying flower so beautiful
As a rose wilting on a hero's grave?
A weary image of the thorns of sacrifice
Blackened red just like the blood he gave
Have you ever seen a dying flower so beautiful?
A measuring of love and remembrance
Of the mark left behind by decent men
Who'd give their life just the same again
Have you ever seen a dying flower so beautiful
As the roses drooping on a widow's sill?
A reminder of the man that she loved and lost
A man who loved, no thought to cost
Have you ever seen a dying flower so beautiful?
A measuring of love and remembrance
Of the mark left behind by decent men
Who'd live their life just the same again
Have you ever seen a dying flower so beautiful
As the rose fading from a woman's cheek
As her last breath ushers in forever
And she smiles for the one shes dying to meet?
Have you ever seen a dying flower so beautiful?
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Silver Bells. Santa suits. Lit up trees and eaves. Christmas is most definitely in the air. And as we get ready for the 25th, I find myself thinking about how Mary and Joseph must've felt as they got ready for the first Christmas. I remember how worried/scared/stressed/excited I was my daughter's day of birth approached. And Mary and Joseph had more than enough reason to feel those emotions.
Much has been made over the years about Mary's position in her society as a pregnant, unwed young woman. Suffice to stay she would've been ostracized. Joseph had the opportunity to have her killed or black listed, but the Bible tells us an angel convinced him to stay with her. I would imagine he was probably also ostracized. On the other end of their journey to Bethlehem, their is the infamous small town with no rooms available for the son of God, only a stable with a humble manger. But its that journey, the approaching Christmas that interests me this year.
As worried as my wife and I may have been about the logistics of having a baby, at least we knew we had our family around to support us. We knew we probably had a hospital room. We even knew what the hospital room was going to look like. We had clothes, and a crib, and a car seat, and all of those things that the affluency of america requires us and allows us to have.
As Joseph hoisted Mary on that donkey to begin their journey, what was going through their heads? They were leaving everyone they knew behind. Mary was losing all of the women who normally help with the birth of child. She was leaving family support and, in the process, the "nurses." She had no idea where the birth would take place, who would help, or how the baby would survive. Shoot, if 1 in 3 pregnancies in 2010 end in miscarriages (or so I've heard), how huge was the chance that Mary was going to lose hers? But that couldn't happen, right? God promised this child! On the other hand, maybe it could...
Did Joseph wonder how he was going to deliver this child? Men don't do that. How was he going to take care of a baby that isn't even his? What does a father teach a son when that son already knows everything? Was this child really the son of God? Of course it was - the angel told him so! On the other hand, maybe he was dreaming...
As they laid their heads on rocks in the desert, together but incredibly alone, how did they convince themselves that they could bring this child into this world and actually take care of it? Did they talk about their fears, or simply swallow their tears and trust God would take care of them? Did they trust God? Did they trust each other? Was Mary gentile or pained and cranky? Was Joseph gracious or easily angered?
Whether your life feels like the peace of a new snow, the ferocity of a shopping mall, the optimism of lighted houses, or the darkness of lonely desert night, I hope that you are anticipating Christmas. As we do, I hope that we remember the gift that having family around is (even when it doesn't feel like it). I hope we remember that Mary and Joseph were faithful despite doubts, not faithful without doubts, and we strive to follow their example. Mostly, I hope we discover what Mary and Joseph discovered that Christmas morning: God ALWAYS fulfills His promises.
Much has been made over the years about Mary's position in her society as a pregnant, unwed young woman. Suffice to stay she would've been ostracized. Joseph had the opportunity to have her killed or black listed, but the Bible tells us an angel convinced him to stay with her. I would imagine he was probably also ostracized. On the other end of their journey to Bethlehem, their is the infamous small town with no rooms available for the son of God, only a stable with a humble manger. But its that journey, the approaching Christmas that interests me this year.
As worried as my wife and I may have been about the logistics of having a baby, at least we knew we had our family around to support us. We knew we probably had a hospital room. We even knew what the hospital room was going to look like. We had clothes, and a crib, and a car seat, and all of those things that the affluency of america requires us and allows us to have.
As Joseph hoisted Mary on that donkey to begin their journey, what was going through their heads? They were leaving everyone they knew behind. Mary was losing all of the women who normally help with the birth of child. She was leaving family support and, in the process, the "nurses." She had no idea where the birth would take place, who would help, or how the baby would survive. Shoot, if 1 in 3 pregnancies in 2010 end in miscarriages (or so I've heard), how huge was the chance that Mary was going to lose hers? But that couldn't happen, right? God promised this child! On the other hand, maybe it could...
Did Joseph wonder how he was going to deliver this child? Men don't do that. How was he going to take care of a baby that isn't even his? What does a father teach a son when that son already knows everything? Was this child really the son of God? Of course it was - the angel told him so! On the other hand, maybe he was dreaming...
As they laid their heads on rocks in the desert, together but incredibly alone, how did they convince themselves that they could bring this child into this world and actually take care of it? Did they talk about their fears, or simply swallow their tears and trust God would take care of them? Did they trust God? Did they trust each other? Was Mary gentile or pained and cranky? Was Joseph gracious or easily angered?
Whether your life feels like the peace of a new snow, the ferocity of a shopping mall, the optimism of lighted houses, or the darkness of lonely desert night, I hope that you are anticipating Christmas. As we do, I hope that we remember the gift that having family around is (even when it doesn't feel like it). I hope we remember that Mary and Joseph were faithful despite doubts, not faithful without doubts, and we strive to follow their example. Mostly, I hope we discover what Mary and Joseph discovered that Christmas morning: God ALWAYS fulfills His promises.
Friday, December 03, 2010
F is for Fake-Believe
My daughter recently received a present from her god-parents: A DVD by the band They Might Be Giants intended to help kids learn the alphabet. One of the songs is called Fake-believe: "F is for fun, F is for fun, F is for fake-belieeeeeeve...." The song is about all the fun one can have pretending. I can't tell you how the rest of the song goes, though, because the Baby Girl only likes to watch the first 10 seconds of every song. Unless it involves puppets. Or robots.
My realization is that fake-believe has been generally harmful to my adult life. When I was a kid, I didn't play with a lot of other kids. I preferred to live in my own "fake-believe" world, where I was Joe Montana, Ken Griffey Jr., or Michael Jordan. Sometimes I would pretend I was me as an adult, setting the world on fire as the first three-sport pro athlete. And I think all of that was good; it has made me a better thinker and problem solver as an adult. I hope Ashlynn does lots of creating and pretending. To this day, I still sit down with a video came and pretend that I am a Head Coach or General Manager as I lead my teams to championship dynasties.
The harmful part is that I still find it easier to pretend. I couldn't hit a home run or dunk a basketball at 8, 10, 12 years old, but I could pretend. As an adult I find it easier to pretend that I could be a good husband if I actually worked at it than it is to put in the time and effort. I can tell myself my wife is a lucky woman because of what I am capable of doing for her, because of the father and husband I can be. Yet if I don't actually put forth the effort to show her that, it means nothing in the real world. It is simply easier for me to lie to myself about whats possible than it is to work hard at proving the theory. I know that sounds obvious, and a little horrible, but I have to imagine I'm not the only one.
And the list goes on: It is easier for me to pretend that people would like the songs I write instead of actually playing them for people. Its easier to believe I can sing and write like the people on the radio than it is to put myself out there for the criticism I know would be coming. It is more fun to pretend than to face reality, so I choose to believe the fake-believe world I create for myself.
No matter how much people compliment my writing, it is easier to simply believe people would like a book I wrote rather than actually write one. Its easier to come up with the excuses not to write one, tell myself that if I ever did write one it would be great, and simply live in the fake-believe. Even if God tells me to write, its still easier to make excuses in reality and bask in the pretend.
I used to think that the hardest part of having an active imagination was the day all those dreams disappeared; the day I found out I would never be a pro athlete. Today, I'm finding the hardest part to be living in reality...
My realization is that fake-believe has been generally harmful to my adult life. When I was a kid, I didn't play with a lot of other kids. I preferred to live in my own "fake-believe" world, where I was Joe Montana, Ken Griffey Jr., or Michael Jordan. Sometimes I would pretend I was me as an adult, setting the world on fire as the first three-sport pro athlete. And I think all of that was good; it has made me a better thinker and problem solver as an adult. I hope Ashlynn does lots of creating and pretending. To this day, I still sit down with a video came and pretend that I am a Head Coach or General Manager as I lead my teams to championship dynasties.
The harmful part is that I still find it easier to pretend. I couldn't hit a home run or dunk a basketball at 8, 10, 12 years old, but I could pretend. As an adult I find it easier to pretend that I could be a good husband if I actually worked at it than it is to put in the time and effort. I can tell myself my wife is a lucky woman because of what I am capable of doing for her, because of the father and husband I can be. Yet if I don't actually put forth the effort to show her that, it means nothing in the real world. It is simply easier for me to lie to myself about whats possible than it is to work hard at proving the theory. I know that sounds obvious, and a little horrible, but I have to imagine I'm not the only one.
And the list goes on: It is easier for me to pretend that people would like the songs I write instead of actually playing them for people. Its easier to believe I can sing and write like the people on the radio than it is to put myself out there for the criticism I know would be coming. It is more fun to pretend than to face reality, so I choose to believe the fake-believe world I create for myself.
No matter how much people compliment my writing, it is easier to simply believe people would like a book I wrote rather than actually write one. Its easier to come up with the excuses not to write one, tell myself that if I ever did write one it would be great, and simply live in the fake-believe. Even if God tells me to write, its still easier to make excuses in reality and bask in the pretend.
I used to think that the hardest part of having an active imagination was the day all those dreams disappeared; the day I found out I would never be a pro athlete. Today, I'm finding the hardest part to be living in reality...
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Fatherhood Part 2
As I watched my daughter tonight, I couldn't help but wonder what was whirring through her little mind. She was sitting in her highchair, her wide eyes a melting pot of fear, awe, and curiosity. She watched me intently as I worked my way around the room, pushing my strange contraption in front of me. Her eyes bounced from me to the machine, back and forth, afraid to take her eyes off the machine but looking to me for some signal that everything was okay. The machine's light was attractive enough to her, but it was the loud, almost deafening roar that it made which kept her glued to my activities, kept her curious and distant. She would look away to eat, because food is always the priority, but she never seemed quite sure that everything was really okay, that the crazy contraption wouldn't jump out of my hand and come straight for her. Tonight, I vacuumed.
I can only imagine what its like to be a baby, to be experiencing everything for the first time. Oh, shes seen a vacuum before; yet every time is like a new cognitive experience for someone who is still learning the world. She has no context, no way to understand what is happening around her, and it is that newness that piques her curiosity and tinges those beautiful eyes with fear. She has no assurance that this new experience will be safe or will result in good things, other than the knowledge that whatever it is, its in daddy's hands.
As we get older, less and less of life is new. So when something is new and unknown, our fear levels are even greater than a baby's. The same life-experience context that allows us to understand most things allows us to think of all the ways something we don't understand could go wrong. Our ability to reason fails us, and all we are left with is... faith.
As we continue to grow in our maturity, understanding, and spirituality, the new must come. God will provide the new in order that we stretch and grow, becoming more and more like who He created us to be. New opportunities and new challenges, new joys and new pains. Like Ashlynn and the vacuum, sometimes we don't know if the new things we see and hear are good or bad, easy or dangerous. The unknown will crumble our reason to ruin, and all we will have left is... faith.
Faith in our own abilities to handle the new. Faith in our loved ones to support and protect us. Faith that this new thing is in Daddy's hands... and faith that that's enough.
I can only imagine what its like to be a baby, to be experiencing everything for the first time. Oh, shes seen a vacuum before; yet every time is like a new cognitive experience for someone who is still learning the world. She has no context, no way to understand what is happening around her, and it is that newness that piques her curiosity and tinges those beautiful eyes with fear. She has no assurance that this new experience will be safe or will result in good things, other than the knowledge that whatever it is, its in daddy's hands.
As we get older, less and less of life is new. So when something is new and unknown, our fear levels are even greater than a baby's. The same life-experience context that allows us to understand most things allows us to think of all the ways something we don't understand could go wrong. Our ability to reason fails us, and all we are left with is... faith.
As we continue to grow in our maturity, understanding, and spirituality, the new must come. God will provide the new in order that we stretch and grow, becoming more and more like who He created us to be. New opportunities and new challenges, new joys and new pains. Like Ashlynn and the vacuum, sometimes we don't know if the new things we see and hear are good or bad, easy or dangerous. The unknown will crumble our reason to ruin, and all we will have left is... faith.
Faith in our own abilities to handle the new. Faith in our loved ones to support and protect us. Faith that this new thing is in Daddy's hands... and faith that that's enough.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Expectation without Explanation
My newsletter article for March:
Last week I was talking with a co-worker about the expectations that churches have for their people, many of which those people may be completely unaware of. In all churches, there are expectations of behavior, attitude, and ritual, and often we simply assume that people know what we're doing and why we're doing it. As we talked, we began to refer to it as "expectation without explanation." This phrase as sent my brain whirring, and as I have thought about this concept more and more, I have realized how much this idea applies across the board today, at least for my generation. I don't have the age or historical knowledge to be able to tell you what life was like back in the 1950s and '60s, but I can tell you what I see and hear in our post-hippie, post-MTV, post-AOL world: Its not enough to know what we're supposed to do... we want to know why.
How does this concept play out in your life? That depends on your relationships I suppose. In your marriage, you probably have expectations of your spouse that involve chores, or money, or raising the children, or behavior, or attitude, or whatever. Not only is it important to verbalize these expectations (they aren't a mind reader!), make sure you say why these things are important to you. Similarly, as a parent you have expectations of bed times, friend choices, schoolwork, etc. First verbalize, and then explain. NO matter how old your child, it is important that they know why you want them to do something, and "because I say so" is not an explanation, it's an excuse.
Other ways? How about if you are a child with expectations of your parents? Have you told them what they are? Have you explained why these things are important to you? Knowing why something is important to somebody often leads to more rational discussions and less explosions. If you are a teacher or mentor of any kind, does the person looking to you as an authority understand why the things you are asking them to do are important? Students of all ages are far more engaged when they know why they are doing something. If you are a boss or manager, you will find that you employees are far more willing to act according to your expectations if they are able to discuss with you the merit of those expectations and understand why you want them to accomplish the task.
An explanation generally takes one, maybe two more sentences than the expectation; a small price to pay for a better understanding and greater unity in your world.
Last week I was talking with a co-worker about the expectations that churches have for their people, many of which those people may be completely unaware of. In all churches, there are expectations of behavior, attitude, and ritual, and often we simply assume that people know what we're doing and why we're doing it. As we talked, we began to refer to it as "expectation without explanation." This phrase as sent my brain whirring, and as I have thought about this concept more and more, I have realized how much this idea applies across the board today, at least for my generation. I don't have the age or historical knowledge to be able to tell you what life was like back in the 1950s and '60s, but I can tell you what I see and hear in our post-hippie, post-MTV, post-AOL world: Its not enough to know what we're supposed to do... we want to know why.
How does this concept play out in your life? That depends on your relationships I suppose. In your marriage, you probably have expectations of your spouse that involve chores, or money, or raising the children, or behavior, or attitude, or whatever. Not only is it important to verbalize these expectations (they aren't a mind reader!), make sure you say why these things are important to you. Similarly, as a parent you have expectations of bed times, friend choices, schoolwork, etc. First verbalize, and then explain. NO matter how old your child, it is important that they know why you want them to do something, and "because I say so" is not an explanation, it's an excuse.
Other ways? How about if you are a child with expectations of your parents? Have you told them what they are? Have you explained why these things are important to you? Knowing why something is important to somebody often leads to more rational discussions and less explosions. If you are a teacher or mentor of any kind, does the person looking to you as an authority understand why the things you are asking them to do are important? Students of all ages are far more engaged when they know why they are doing something. If you are a boss or manager, you will find that you employees are far more willing to act according to your expectations if they are able to discuss with you the merit of those expectations and understand why you want them to accomplish the task.
An explanation generally takes one, maybe two more sentences than the expectation; a small price to pay for a better understanding and greater unity in your world.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Fatherhood Part 1
Its an interesting thing, being a new father. The bundle of emotion, the lack of sleep, the realization 3 months in that I could no longer picture life without her... all of it does some strange things to your life, your relationships, and your thinking. Ashlynn is now nearly 9 months old, and I think I have found the strangest role of being a new father: the third wheel.
In some sense, my daily living is like being the third wheel on a date (without all of the uncomfortableness). Even if those two people are your two best friends in the world, you know, at some point in the evening, you will just not be as important to them as they are to each other. It doesn't mean they don't care; it just means that the connection between the two of them is so strong you will never be able to compete.
In my case, I have the pleasure of spending some part of (almost) every day with the two people I love most in the world, my wife and my baby girl. I don't think I could possibly cherish that time enough, and I look forward to getting as much of it as possible. The three of us make a dynamite team, a unit that feels like the definition of completion. And I am more needed now than I have ever been in my entire life. My wife needs my emotional, mental, and physical support; she needs a parenting teammate in every sense. My baby needs us for everything, and when Mommy isn't around she knows that I am her knight-in-shining-armor, ready to give her the world. But that's just it: "when mommy isn't around" is the key phrase there.
When Mommy is around, there is no doubt who the preferred arms, chest, and shoulders belong to. And when Mommy is around Baby, it is undoubtedly the highlight of Mommy's existence. I have no doubt that they both love me very much, but I am relegated to the role of "third wheel," for I have no hope of competing with the type of magnetism that can only develops from being completely and wholly enveloped in a person for nine solid months.
I don't want this to sound like I am in an attention and love competition, because I don't view it that way (I don't think). This is simply my observation of my current role, knowing full well that my role will be constantly evolving to meet their needs, because meeting their needs will always be the focus of my role. And who knows?
Maybe one of these days she'll be a daddy's girl after all...
In some sense, my daily living is like being the third wheel on a date (without all of the uncomfortableness). Even if those two people are your two best friends in the world, you know, at some point in the evening, you will just not be as important to them as they are to each other. It doesn't mean they don't care; it just means that the connection between the two of them is so strong you will never be able to compete.
In my case, I have the pleasure of spending some part of (almost) every day with the two people I love most in the world, my wife and my baby girl. I don't think I could possibly cherish that time enough, and I look forward to getting as much of it as possible. The three of us make a dynamite team, a unit that feels like the definition of completion. And I am more needed now than I have ever been in my entire life. My wife needs my emotional, mental, and physical support; she needs a parenting teammate in every sense. My baby needs us for everything, and when Mommy isn't around she knows that I am her knight-in-shining-armor, ready to give her the world. But that's just it: "when mommy isn't around" is the key phrase there.
When Mommy is around, there is no doubt who the preferred arms, chest, and shoulders belong to. And when Mommy is around Baby, it is undoubtedly the highlight of Mommy's existence. I have no doubt that they both love me very much, but I am relegated to the role of "third wheel," for I have no hope of competing with the type of magnetism that can only develops from being completely and wholly enveloped in a person for nine solid months.
I don't want this to sound like I am in an attention and love competition, because I don't view it that way (I don't think). This is simply my observation of my current role, knowing full well that my role will be constantly evolving to meet their needs, because meeting their needs will always be the focus of my role. And who knows?
Maybe one of these days she'll be a daddy's girl after all...
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
A Writer's Shyness
About two weeks ago, my wife Wendy talked me into getting a blog. My desire to preach is currently somewhat unfulfillable and my desire to write seems somewhat stymied. "So," she said, "write a blog; even if nobody reads it." Seemed like a great idea. Still does, really. But after creating this little doodad that night, I have been really struggling with what to write for my 1st ever blog. This seemed like a momentous occasion, although I'm not really sure why. Its not that I expect this to become some world renowned blog site, its just that the standard "hi, I'm me" intro blog didn't seem adequate. If this blog is the launching pad for my thoughts, shouldn't starting the engine come with a little more fire and ferocity? Then last night I came across this quote in a Phillip Yancey book I've been reading called Soul Survivor: How My Faith Survived the Church:
"I cannot conceive the necessity for God to love me, when I feel so clearly that even with human beings affection for me can only be a mistake. But I can easily imagine that He loves that perspective of creation which can only be seen from the point where I am." - Simone Weil
Taking off on the idea that we all have a unique perspective of the world, one that is given to us and loved by God, Yancey used this quote to talk about the shyness that a writer must overcome, the "fear that we are being arrogant by thrusting ourselves upon you the reader, and egotistical by assuming that our words are worth your time." I think this is my problem with Facebook, Myspace, blogging, Twitter, and any other form of social media: why would anyone care what I have to say? So I don't update my facebook status, myspace status, or twitter account, and heretofore have never blogged. This blog is, if nothing else, my attempt to overcome that shyness. It is my sincere hope that if you are reading this, you somehow find the words in this blog and any that follow to be "worth your time."
Weil's quote, however, goes even deeper than that. I have never before seen anyone so accurately sum up my feelings towards God. Beyond the simple fear of sharing my perspective with the world, waiting with bated breath for their approval, in my heart I think I'm constantly questioning whether God finds me to be worth His time. I teach and preach about God's love as often as I can fit it in, because it's that love that caused Him to send Jesus to save and a Spirit to guide, and yet I can't remember the last time I looked in the mirror and really believed that God loved me. I look at the man in the mirror (I even struggle to use the word "man" there when "boy" still seems more accurate) and see someone in a constant struggle with anger, lust, arrogance, selfishness, and judgment, which causes me to wonder why any human being would love me, let alone a great and perfect and powerful God.
Yet I have no trouble at all believing that when God looks at His creation from my perspective, He loves what He sees. I am fully convinced that every person, every creature, every creation that I run into is loved and adored by Almighty God. There is no doubt in my mind that I am called by God to love the things that He loves, to love them the way that He does, by laying down my life for them whenever possible. Even though I struggle and fail constantly in this endeavor, I know my obligation as a child of God is to be "Jesus with skin on" to everyone and everything that I meet.
However hard it is to believe that God loves what He sees when He looks in my direction, I can easily see that He loves the perspective He's given me. I can see Him leaning back in a chair next to me as we look at my life and He whispers, "wow, look at the view!" And I must simply nod in agreement. If I stop running long enough to look, I am surrounded by wonderful, miraculous, horrible people in a beautiful, broken, sinful world. I am blessed with a wonderful life, a wonderful family, and a unique perspective on life, all of which are gifts from a God who loves me whether I believe it or not. So this blog is, in essence, an offering of sorts back to God, a chance for me to share with Him and with you what His creation looks like from my perspective. I hope that you love what you see as much as He does...
"I cannot conceive the necessity for God to love me, when I feel so clearly that even with human beings affection for me can only be a mistake. But I can easily imagine that He loves that perspective of creation which can only be seen from the point where I am." - Simone Weil
Taking off on the idea that we all have a unique perspective of the world, one that is given to us and loved by God, Yancey used this quote to talk about the shyness that a writer must overcome, the "fear that we are being arrogant by thrusting ourselves upon you the reader, and egotistical by assuming that our words are worth your time." I think this is my problem with Facebook, Myspace, blogging, Twitter, and any other form of social media: why would anyone care what I have to say? So I don't update my facebook status, myspace status, or twitter account, and heretofore have never blogged. This blog is, if nothing else, my attempt to overcome that shyness. It is my sincere hope that if you are reading this, you somehow find the words in this blog and any that follow to be "worth your time."
Weil's quote, however, goes even deeper than that. I have never before seen anyone so accurately sum up my feelings towards God. Beyond the simple fear of sharing my perspective with the world, waiting with bated breath for their approval, in my heart I think I'm constantly questioning whether God finds me to be worth His time. I teach and preach about God's love as often as I can fit it in, because it's that love that caused Him to send Jesus to save and a Spirit to guide, and yet I can't remember the last time I looked in the mirror and really believed that God loved me. I look at the man in the mirror (I even struggle to use the word "man" there when "boy" still seems more accurate) and see someone in a constant struggle with anger, lust, arrogance, selfishness, and judgment, which causes me to wonder why any human being would love me, let alone a great and perfect and powerful God.
Yet I have no trouble at all believing that when God looks at His creation from my perspective, He loves what He sees. I am fully convinced that every person, every creature, every creation that I run into is loved and adored by Almighty God. There is no doubt in my mind that I am called by God to love the things that He loves, to love them the way that He does, by laying down my life for them whenever possible. Even though I struggle and fail constantly in this endeavor, I know my obligation as a child of God is to be "Jesus with skin on" to everyone and everything that I meet.
However hard it is to believe that God loves what He sees when He looks in my direction, I can easily see that He loves the perspective He's given me. I can see Him leaning back in a chair next to me as we look at my life and He whispers, "wow, look at the view!" And I must simply nod in agreement. If I stop running long enough to look, I am surrounded by wonderful, miraculous, horrible people in a beautiful, broken, sinful world. I am blessed with a wonderful life, a wonderful family, and a unique perspective on life, all of which are gifts from a God who loves me whether I believe it or not. So this blog is, in essence, an offering of sorts back to God, a chance for me to share with Him and with you what His creation looks like from my perspective. I hope that you love what you see as much as He does...
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