I’ve never had anyone openly ogle me before, but I’m beginning to be a bit sensitive about a certain physical characteristic that I have. It’s always, and I mean always, commented on, even admired, by a particular group of people and I never know what to say because I don’t think I’ve done anything to enhance it.
Blood drawers of the world love my veins.
I’m going in for a routine physical Friday and went in for some blood work last week. The nurse/lab technician invited me to sit down and I put my arm up and, I kid you not, the first thing she said was (forgive the mild profanity), “Daaaammmnn! Look at those veins! You don’t even have to clench your fist, just sit back and relax.”
Now, how does one respond to this? This also happens when I give blood. A simple thank you, even though I don’t think I’ve done anything to (pardon the cardio-pun) pump up my veins? I know I don’t want to say the wrong thing because, after all, this woman is about to stick a needle in my arm. I just smiled. Maybe next time I can let the person know that I’m doing all I can to make her/his job easier.
Jesus tells us that even the hairs on our head are numbered by God. Maybe our veins, big or small, are too.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
All-access pass
One of the remarkable things about being a pastor is that, in some instances, it’s like having an all-access pass to a people’s lives. I don’t take that privilege lightly. Clergy can sometimes go where others can’t, physically and emotionally—hospital rooms, troubled relationships, an individual’s psyche and soul, “backstage” at weddings. These are intimate moments because people drop their masks. If you’re in a hospital bed, you couldn’t be any more vulnerable, especially with that lovely gown that opens in the back. If you’re nervous or anxious or joyful or depressed, you're probably not be as concerned about how you look or sound to someone you trust.
I’m sometimes still amazed that people invite, even welcome me into those moments. They bare themselves a bit and that’s scary. If I can just for a moment convey God’s presence, who knows us more intimately than anyOne, what a miracle that is.
I’m sometimes still amazed that people invite, even welcome me into those moments. They bare themselves a bit and that’s scary. If I can just for a moment convey God’s presence, who knows us more intimately than anyOne, what a miracle that is.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
The voice of God
What does God sound like? What an interesting question to consider. Is it a voice? Male or female? It is a sound like you'd find in nature? There are countless possibilities. For my 17-month-old son, though, I have a feeling God sounds like a woman.
His sleeping has been a little erratic lately and if Anne gets up with him in the middle of the night, I try to get up with him when he wakes up in the morning, usually between 5:30 and 6. It's the same routine. I walk in, he looks at me, throws himself on his mattress and cries because I'm not who he wants. He carries on for about 30 seconds, then gets up again, thinking, hey, maybe this guy will take me to who I really want. I pick him up, he lunges toward our room, but as I walk by our room and head downstairs, he cries again. Obviously I didn't get the message. He'll usually stop, though, after a minute or so. This morning, I was downstairs and had him on my lap and he was a little more distraught than normal. He was on my shoulder, clinging to me, when all of a sudden, a voice was heard. A soft, feathery voice, "Ethan..." He knows that voice. It's the voice of one who loves him, is always there for him, will help him when he's sad and laugh at him when he's funny. He whirled around and there in the doorway was his mother. He lunged for her and she took him in her arms. I was a footnote, which I've gotten used to.
A voice that he knows and is always there. No matter what it sounds like, that's God's voice.
His sleeping has been a little erratic lately and if Anne gets up with him in the middle of the night, I try to get up with him when he wakes up in the morning, usually between 5:30 and 6. It's the same routine. I walk in, he looks at me, throws himself on his mattress and cries because I'm not who he wants. He carries on for about 30 seconds, then gets up again, thinking, hey, maybe this guy will take me to who I really want. I pick him up, he lunges toward our room, but as I walk by our room and head downstairs, he cries again. Obviously I didn't get the message. He'll usually stop, though, after a minute or so. This morning, I was downstairs and had him on my lap and he was a little more distraught than normal. He was on my shoulder, clinging to me, when all of a sudden, a voice was heard. A soft, feathery voice, "Ethan..." He knows that voice. It's the voice of one who loves him, is always there for him, will help him when he's sad and laugh at him when he's funny. He whirled around and there in the doorway was his mother. He lunged for her and she took him in her arms. I was a footnote, which I've gotten used to.
A voice that he knows and is always there. No matter what it sounds like, that's God's voice.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Pink and Yellow Butterflies
We signed our daughter up for soccer this spring and she's been having a fun time doing it though, for some reason, her game last Sunday made me realize something potentially discouraging.
It's pretty tame stuff, this 4/5-year old soccer. Six girls are out there (three on a team) running around kicking the ball in their bright uniforms (Caroline's are pink and yellow and their team name, they decided, is the Pink and Yellow Butterflies. If that doesn't bring the fear of God into another team, I don't know what will!). A little soccer education is thrown in which, at first, I thought was a good idea, but now I'm not so sure. It doesn't take long for the ball to be kicked out of bounds and then someone has to throw it in and coaches (who are great) have to show girls where to stand and part of me is thinking, just throw the ball out there and let them kick it around!
One of the things that struck me last Sunday, however, me was, as far as I can tell, the inability of kids these days (OK, now I'm definitely getting older by using the phrase "kids these days") to organize themselves for recreation/entertainment. Caroline's too young for this to happen, but I rarely see older boys and girls getting together on their own for a game of baseball or any other kind of game. Actually, I take that back. I see Hispanic boys and girls doing this, but not Caucasians.
Why is this? Older generations are probably partly to blame. Who can blame children and youth for not wanting to organize themselves if someone else will do it plus they get cool uniforms, trophies, and snacks? Now, I say that as one who participated in Little League and loved it (with the uniforms, trophies, and snacks), but we also would call each other up to go do something, as well. I'm not sure if that happens any more. It has to be organized.
Part of all this may also be the "Bowling Alone" syndrome, meaning it's a cultural thing--people just don't get together/join things as much any more, adults or children.
Am I overreacting? Maybe. Maybe some of this self-organizing goes on and I'm just blind to it. I hope that's the case.
It's pretty tame stuff, this 4/5-year old soccer. Six girls are out there (three on a team) running around kicking the ball in their bright uniforms (Caroline's are pink and yellow and their team name, they decided, is the Pink and Yellow Butterflies. If that doesn't bring the fear of God into another team, I don't know what will!). A little soccer education is thrown in which, at first, I thought was a good idea, but now I'm not so sure. It doesn't take long for the ball to be kicked out of bounds and then someone has to throw it in and coaches (who are great) have to show girls where to stand and part of me is thinking, just throw the ball out there and let them kick it around!
One of the things that struck me last Sunday, however, me was, as far as I can tell, the inability of kids these days (OK, now I'm definitely getting older by using the phrase "kids these days") to organize themselves for recreation/entertainment. Caroline's too young for this to happen, but I rarely see older boys and girls getting together on their own for a game of baseball or any other kind of game. Actually, I take that back. I see Hispanic boys and girls doing this, but not Caucasians.
Why is this? Older generations are probably partly to blame. Who can blame children and youth for not wanting to organize themselves if someone else will do it plus they get cool uniforms, trophies, and snacks? Now, I say that as one who participated in Little League and loved it (with the uniforms, trophies, and snacks), but we also would call each other up to go do something, as well. I'm not sure if that happens any more. It has to be organized.
Part of all this may also be the "Bowling Alone" syndrome, meaning it's a cultural thing--people just don't get together/join things as much any more, adults or children.
Am I overreacting? Maybe. Maybe some of this self-organizing goes on and I'm just blind to it. I hope that's the case.
Friday, May 05, 2006
The perfect Mother's Day gift
Mother's Day is only about a week away. Wondering what to get her? If you're the president of a former Soviet republic, you can honor her with the best kind of gift: name a month after her. (All this info from the May 1, 2006 "New Yorker")
Saparmurat Niyazov is a former leader in the Soviet Union's Communist Party and is now the president of Turkmenistan. Only now his name is Turkmenbashi (Leader of all the Turkmen). Among other things he has done as president: forced doctors to say an oath to him rather than Hippocrates; named the month of January after himself; banned opera, ballet, beards, long hair and gold-capped teeth; demanded that drivers pass a morality test; and, for his mother, named the month of April for her. So make sure you call it Gurbansoltan eje when you're there next Easter.
The best thing he did, though was to create a 250-foot statue of himself that automatically rotates to face the sun. I think I'll bring that up at the next trustees meeting.
Saparmurat Niyazov is a former leader in the Soviet Union's Communist Party and is now the president of Turkmenistan. Only now his name is Turkmenbashi (Leader of all the Turkmen). Among other things he has done as president: forced doctors to say an oath to him rather than Hippocrates; named the month of January after himself; banned opera, ballet, beards, long hair and gold-capped teeth; demanded that drivers pass a morality test; and, for his mother, named the month of April for her. So make sure you call it Gurbansoltan eje when you're there next Easter.
The best thing he did, though was to create a 250-foot statue of himself that automatically rotates to face the sun. I think I'll bring that up at the next trustees meeting.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Of this I am sure
There are a handful of things that I am absolutely convicted of and it would pretty much take Jesus coming again to make me change my mind. Sweet corn should only be eaten July 20-Aug. 10. Lane Smith writes the best children’s books. Wrigley Field is overrated. These are just a few. Another is this: The death penalty is wrong and should be abolished. Of all the hot-button issues out there, this is the one I feel the most strongly about.
There are certainly instances that challenge that assumption. Yesterday was one of those times when Zacarias Moussaoui was given a life sentence, rather than the death penalty. That appeared to surprise just about everyone.
Should a man who played a key role in the deaths of thousands on 9/11 deserve to live? I can certainly understand those who give a resounding “no” to that question. But I don’t believe that his death would solve anything. It may give comfort to some family members. It might give many others a sense that justice has truly been done. I think it mostly satisfies our desire for vengeance, which is dangerous.
The problem with the death penalty is the big “what if” question. What if an individual is innocent? That leads into many other issues like whether a person can afford a good defense attorney. Too many innocent people have died because of a need for vengeance (Someone must pay for a crime and should pay quickly). That’s a disturbing state to be in.
But what if something happened to your children? a person might ask. What if, God forbid, something unimaginable happened to them? Wouldn’t you want vengeance? Absolutely. If someone hurt my child, my instinct would probably be to do all I could to inflict the same pain on them. Which is why I need a society that won’t allow me to do that.
There are certainly instances that challenge that assumption. Yesterday was one of those times when Zacarias Moussaoui was given a life sentence, rather than the death penalty. That appeared to surprise just about everyone.
Should a man who played a key role in the deaths of thousands on 9/11 deserve to live? I can certainly understand those who give a resounding “no” to that question. But I don’t believe that his death would solve anything. It may give comfort to some family members. It might give many others a sense that justice has truly been done. I think it mostly satisfies our desire for vengeance, which is dangerous.
The problem with the death penalty is the big “what if” question. What if an individual is innocent? That leads into many other issues like whether a person can afford a good defense attorney. Too many innocent people have died because of a need for vengeance (Someone must pay for a crime and should pay quickly). That’s a disturbing state to be in.
But what if something happened to your children? a person might ask. What if, God forbid, something unimaginable happened to them? Wouldn’t you want vengeance? Absolutely. If someone hurt my child, my instinct would probably be to do all I could to inflict the same pain on them. Which is why I need a society that won’t allow me to do that.
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