Happy Anniversary

Today marks two years that I have been married to my wife.  In many ways, it feels like yesterday, and likewise it feels like we have been together all of our adult lives.  That is a good thing.  We are complimentary.  We have love that overcomes our differences, and I am responsible for the cross words, if we have any, and that is purely my fault and my temper.

What we do not lack, is love and appreciation for our time together.  In these short months we have been together, we have been inundated with family change.  Deaths of people we loved, breakups in the family, reconciliations in the family, family members moving, us contemplating moving.  It has been a full package, our short time together.

I suppose that is why it also feels like, in some ways, we have always been together.  What we have presided over together is a full life for some couples.  The fact that we have done it together, and without serious disagreement, has cemented our relationship.

Maybe you could look at the arch of my life in the last 3 years, and think that I am a very unlucky man.  Lots of things that were unpleasant and unfortunate happened.  I was sick a large segment of that time, though I tried my best to live as if I were not.  I had two major surgeries.  I lost my wife, my grandmother, my father and my sister.  Katrina lost her nephew, step father and an uncle.  That is a pretty big tally for any family.

But, when I lay down at night, and have those quiet few moments before I sleep, that is focused time with just me and God, I do not think about those things.  When I have those few moments, that are just me and God, and quiet, I thank Him for the amazing bounty with which He has filled my life.  I thank Him for the joy with which He has filled my heart.  I thank Him that I have gotten to experience the full and abundant life that I have.

Sometimes, I do cry to Him.  It is in pain and grief, not sorrow.  Sorrow in my mind is wrapped up in regret and should have dones.  I battled sorrow for a while.  I suspected that I had many things to regret and that I should have done.  But, God gave me a person that helped me see that whether that was true or not, I could not reclaim time.  You can't make things right with the past.  You have to make peace with it.  And, I did.  It was not easy.

Grief is what I feel over loss.  I grieve for the losses I have sustained.  Everyday, I grieve for those four people, and others before that.  Not because I can't get past it, but because they were wonderful people in my life that I miss.  With all of them, there were things that should have been done differently.  I could list a long litany of things that I did that I should not, if I were to study on it and spend the time.  I will not.

I have a beautiful, wonderful, caring, sensitive, giving, appreciative, funny, happy, glorious partner in crime, and wife.  She makes me smile when I wake up, she makes me smile all through the day, she makes me smile as I go to sleep.  I wish everyone on the planet had that experience.  I don't think we will ever see world peace or harmony, but I tell you, to get there, we all have to have that experience.

The only important thing, outside of our relationship, that makes our life better, is our children.  We have four wonderful children, and through them four more wonderful people in our family.  They are a source of worry, concern and prayer to us.  We are their parents.  But, they are a much larger source of joy and happiness and love.  They frustrate me at times.  None of their personalities match mine, or they are way too much like mine.  That is inescapable in a family.  35 years ago, my brother and I could not get through a day without tearing into each other at some point.  Now, I cannot imagine a greater source of strength and love than my brother.  It comes with time.  These four of ours have not been adults all that long, and since we aint that old, neither have we.

They are, however, ours.  Whether we get frustrated, worried, concerned, happy, sad, they are ours.  I think about that and thank God for that.  I have amazing kids, all of them.  And I love them all.  We don't have step kids, or Katrina's kids, or Joe's kids.  We have our kids.  We love them like that, we treat them like that, and we will always honor them like that.

I have had two years of happiness and joy that not many men are able to experience in life, and I expect to live many more.  It means everything to me today, and I intend to live like that.  I take the Scripture to heart, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  We plan for the future, but do not worry about tomorrow.  We have way too much going on today, to have time for that mess.

I wrote this, because it is what I woke up thinking about.  It not an unusual thing for my waking thoughts.  I spend some time every morning, because I get up so early, sitting in the quiet dark, and thinking.  I like that time almost as much as going to bed, though it precedes going to work.  Mornings are a good time for me.  I am better at mornings than nights.  And, I think most often about the blessings I have.  You get to choose whether you think about blessings or curses.  I don't have time for curses, I have too many blessings.

And, Katrina is my chief blessing.  I have to go, and get ready to wish her Happy Anniversary.  I wish you all the best, because I am living it, and I hope that you get it in your life, if you don't have it.  If you have it, don't wait for a "special" occasion to recognize it.  It feels like our anniversary everyday, and I hope I treat Katrina like it is, every day.  There is not time to wait, if you feel you have something to say or do.  Tomorrow will worry about itself, but it gets here in a big ole hurry.

I live for today, and I am going to try to make today special.  But, I do that every day.  I urge you to do the same.  It is the best medicine on the planet.

GLYASDI

Discipline

Like most people afflicted with any level of compulsive disorder, I have also an obsessive problem.  I am like a laser.  If properly focused, I turn out a tremendous amount of energy and useful output.  If the lenses get off, and my focus is not sharp, I am just a round fluorescent bulb that shines as much light up into my fixture as I do down into the room.

My lenses consist of my discipline.  Routine is very important to me.  While I do not have to operate the same way every day, and can actually adapt and overcome, improvise and succeed, I do prefer to strategize and conquer.  Planning is my Archimedes fulcrum.  With enough planning, regardless of the size of the lever, I can position the fulcrum and move the world.  It is not the size of the lever, but the position of the fulcrum.

Old school physics analogies aside, discipline is my friend.  We are well acquainted, and long companions.  When allowed to operate within my schedule and system, I am remarkable capable and successful.  Mess that schedule and system all up, and I quickly get frustrated and my productivity suffers tremendously.

So, to combat that, I try to keep my priorities straight.  If you accomplish the most important things at a reasonable rate, things will be okay.  One of my great lessons is that I cannot accomplish everything everyday.  That is an unrealistic expectation.  I have learned to be satisfied with the most important things each day.  I have struggled with identifying the most important by what I got done at the end of the day, instead of what I prioritized at the beginning of the day.

Discipline is creating a scheme and sticking to it.  Discipline is hard because the world around us is chaotic.  It takes dedication and self reliance to maintain your discipline in the maelstrom.  And, the world is a constant.  There really is no break in the maelstrom.  You have to learn to tune it out completely, long enough to prioritize, then you have to focus and navigate through it.  You also have to be self aware enough to change your priorities appropriately.

If you start bleeding, caring for the wound becomes an immediate priority.  But, while waiting at the ER for sutures, it is not necessarily a bad thing to review a proposal or contract, and compose an email or 40.  You are going to have time.  That is navigating, and bowing to reality.

My life is about my faith first.  That is my first rung on the discipline ladder.  All the rest can stop, but the faith journey moves forward.  At least that is what I claim to myself.  Quite honestly, read the paragraph above, it usually ends up being the thing I hope I find time for.  I have come to the routine of doing my prayer and study and reflection in the morning.  It is after that reflection that these rambling musings are composed.  That should give you some indication of what kind of battle God is waging for my soul.

I lost all discipline the last few days.  I carried my prayer book with me.  But, as usually happens, unfortunately, I honestly never opened it and entered anything into it, in the entire 3 days we were in ICU with my Dad.  I never opened it and entered anything into it on Christmas Day, when I lost my sister, and missed seeing two of my daughters.  

I should say, the last few days are remarkably typical.  I, usually, fail to utilize the most important tool at my disposal.  I forget that the Lord is beyond the principles of good ole Archimedes.  I worry about my stuff, my organized view of the chaos, and my foolish attempt to make sanity of it.  Instead, I should be seeking refuge in the Lord, and relying on Him.  That was the point of my prayer book, after all.

I was disciplining myself to record what I asked God for, and when the prayer was answered.  The hope was that I would see what things I was asking for, and how God answered them.  The goal was to learn more about what I should be asking for, and what God is shaping in my life.  Those are all worthy things, and still the point of the prayer book.

Unfortunately, there are weeks absent for entry.  I get consumed with what I am doing, and distracted.  I do tend to review it every day, and make sure that I keep praying for the things I have entered.  But, I get busy, and "don't have time," to update it with new requests.  Just "finding" time to pray for that little bit of stuff is sometimes beyond me.

I quickly forget 1 Thess 5:16-18, "Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."

I was not rejoicing when my father died, nor my sister.  I guess you could almost forgive me that lapse, given the circumstances, though God would not.  I, unfortunately, did not pray continually either.  I certainly did not give thanks.  I was fighting God's will for me, and did not feel at all as if I was in Christ Jesus.

I have not disciplined myself to that.  The Lord knows that I have tried.  But, to quote myself to lots of others in lots of situations, "Trying don't get her done.  Doing gets it done."

Big words from a little man.  But the sentiment is true.  We should be taught that the doing of the verses above are the main thing, first.  The discipline of doing these things then flows into the ability to add additional disciplines and get ever closer to Christ.  When I figure out how, I will post it on every electronic forum and written method available.

I suppose that we are left with nothing else, at the end of the day.  Trying doesn't get it done.  Doing gets it done.  Until we are humble enough to give up what we want, and be thankful for what we are given, this is a big old, chaotic, evil, scary and hurtful life.  That is the key, we are ALWAYS and constantly in God's will.  Whatever this, this is, is God's will.  Rejoice, pray, give thanks.

That does not mean be happy, then pray, then be thankful.  Rejoice is misquoted today.  The archaic form (or really old meaning) was to GIVE great joy to someone or something.  We are to give great joy to God, worship.  During and while, we are to pray, give it up to God.  During and while, we are to be thankful we have a Lord that sustains and keeps us.  Said like that, it sounds so simple, why doesn't everyone do it?

Because we are created for it, but have a sinful nature that prevents us from doing it naturally.  It takes work, being a Christian.  Endless and continual work and discipline.  Mr Osteen generally glosses over that point, which is why many of his flock get so disillusioned so quickly.  I should stop doing that, I don't know the man personally, I only see what he puts on TV.  But, what he puts on TV is dangerous.  That smiling, genial, God wants to give to you message is dangerous.  God does want to give to you, but He is not going to take you out of the world.  The world is going to continually take from you.  YOU have to decide to not be of the world, for God to continually give to you.  It is work and discipline.

I wish it was not, especially the last few days.  An OCD, military trained, disciplinarian like me would seem to be a natural.  But, it can be a distraction.  I get so wrapped up in what did not work on my list for the day, that I forget I am not making the list.  I am just doing my part to live out God's list.  And, I miss doing that well, almost every single day.  When my list is more important to me than God's, my problems start.  When I am disciplined to give it up to God, rejoice, pray and give thanks; my problems end.

The prayer book is a good thing, and I am not going to stop it.  I am going to try to do more of it.  But, at the end of the day, my list of prayers is just for me to really see where I am not praying for the right things.  It does not change God's list or plan.  That is my lesson from the last week.

I rejoice, and pray, and give thanks, for what has happened is God's will, for me, in Christ Jesus.  The big news there is not the stuff that happened.  The big news is that God has a will (plan) for me, and it is to be in Christ Jesus.

When I think of it that way it is a lot easier to rejoice, pray, and give thanks.  It is not easier.  It is less difficult.  I am still Joe, and I don't have it down.  But, I am learning.  That is number one on my list.

GLYASDI

Christmas Eve

Numbered among the things I can no longer do is number firsts.  I am not immune, and I have done it.  I get very nostalgic about things, and I definitely know that it is 19 Christmas' that I have not had Mama, this is the third without Granny, and there are others seared on my soul.  Yes, I know, and I do not condemn nor misunderstand the doing of it.  Some are too personal to even discuss.

But, I think we reach a point in our lives, where the number of losses come up to the point that we lose track of firsts.  Some, are very deeply personal, and are in a class of their own, we never forget.  But, I get feeling rather poorly that I am not entirely sure how many Christmas' this has been since Uncle Bobby passed.  Lord knows, I loved him as much as any of the rest, and he was just as special as the rest of them.

If I thought about it hard enough, or researched enough, I could definitely figure it out.  But, I absolutely cannot think of a single thing that would aggravate Bobby more than me trying to figure out when he died.  "Jesus Christ, boy, are you dumber than dirt?  Get up and lets go fishing, I'm driving," would have been his response.  I deleted the cuss words that I never minded.  Bobby and I are both sailors.  And I learned not to let him drive, because I am not dumber than dirt.

The point being, there is not a person in my family that I can think of that would want me to feel badly because I lost track of first, thirds or nineteenths.  They were, none of them, the kind of people that found it appropriate to be captive over death.  I figure that each of them had to get to where I am, and there were much larger families back in the day.  Loss was not more or less difficult or personal, but it seems to have been more frequent.

I have a good memory, and dates are numbers.  Numbers and data are my thing.  Because I can recall dates and numbers, does not mean more than those are things that stick in my head.  16-24-36, Locker 116 across the hall from Mrs Bailey's class on the second floor of Chopticon.  My high school locker combination and locker.  I have a ton of combinations captive in my head, but struggle to remember my computer passwords because they require letters.  I can tell you the grain drill setting was 14 for rye and 11 for barley.  Don't ask me why, I was never allowed to plant grain.  But, I remember the indicator on the handle, from painting it.

But, I have learned to not imprint dates of death.  I don't like waking up each morning and associating it with someone gone.  I no longer practice the Catholic faith, but I always thought it cool that there was a saint each day, that was celebrated.  However, I don't want to venerate my family.  They were not holy, nor were they perfect, nor are they going to be canonized, though Granny may deserve it.  They were people like me, with issues and struggles.

I prefer, at this point to just think about them as I knew them.  That means some of them are different than others remember them.  We are all different in different situations.  But, to me, they were titans, striding through the world as conquerors and victors.  That may sound too grand for people I don't want to venerate, but I do want to remember them fondly, and with great joy.  Those words are appropriate.

Honestly, how do you want to remember people?  If you want to cling to the rough parts and the disagreement, I cannot stop you.  I can only counsel you that my memories bring me comfort and happiness.  Some of these people passed while we were not settled in our disputes.  Yet, they are not dark subjects in my dreams, nor do they disturb my heart.  I can choose what to dwell upon.

When I was a boy, that farm in Chaptico was enormous.  It was more than large enough to encompass our dreams and our play and our wonder.  We knew it well, everything within all four corners.   Where to find fossils in the creek, where to find bull minnows, where to find bull frogs, where the forts and best places to take shelter were.  We knew what trees you could climb, and which ones were better left alone, till the next time you tried.  We piloted those huge tractors over the millions of acres, from the barn where they were always parked neatly.  We climbed the lofts and rafters, warred with corn cobs and tobacco sticks.  It was more than any amusement park, in my memory.

Now, the farm is much smaller.  I guess that is normal.  My definition of big is informed by other things now.  I have been 10 decks above the water in the middle of the Atlantic, watching the sun set behind us, and then the sun rise behind us.  I have stood between engines that were the size of the house I grew up in, and controlled them by hand valves and voice radio.  I have seen the Grand Canyon from the air, Yellowstone from the ground.  I have been differently informed.

It is what makes me feel somewhat confused at the farm now.  It no longer fits my memories.  Or my memories no longer fit within it.  Nothing has changed in terms of the land.  What has changed is the people.  There are as many people living on the farm now, as there were when I was 10.  But, my vantage point is different.  I can overlay the current version, and cement it into place, or live with the limitless vision in my head.

I choose the latter, and the memories.  I cannot ignore the reality, nor change it.  I don't want to, but I do keep the past alive.  I think it confuses my family, why I get lost so easily in the county now.  But, I cannot let the current state overlay the version in my head.  I navigate through it when there.  But, I prefer the 1980 version that is in my memory, here in Clayton.  I have not had it change gradually around me, altering the normal and continuing to make it the version I use.

I have that experience here in Clayton, and 20 years of it in Portsmouth, VA.  They have both changed significantly in my time there, and the current is the actual.  It has to be that way, as I am part of the change and parcel with the present.  It is hard to remember the past versions, because the present versions are so prominent.

I have guarded the past.  It was my refuge and escape for many years of service, that saw times that required me to have that place to retreat to.  I cannot express what the forced exile and separation does to you, but it makes you different.  I refused to give away the essence of what I thought I was.  I fought it tooth and nail.

I did not fully recognize that time loops.  I find myself in situations and places that I watched my father and uncles and grandfather navigate.  It is very real and very permanent.  The sense of deja vu is both comforting and disturbing.  I have an example to hold up and see how it fits, but it also makes me wonder if I am wrong, when I change the outcome.  Time loops, it does not repeat, and each situation requires its own solution.

So, no firsts for me this Christmas.  I just have some sorrow that is pretty big.  And, some self pity that is probably bigger.  It dawned on me the other evening, that we are orphans now.  That hurt, bad.  I don't know why, we have all been on our own and very capable for years.  But, knowing that door is shut permanently is scary.

However, they are not gone.  They remain with me, within me and around me.  I would rather spend my time with the good memories, and to hell with the bad.  And I would much rather celebrate the birth of my Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ.  Regardless of what we face, there is plenty there to find to celebrate.

And, save me the argument that it did not occur on December 25.  I know, and I understand the arguments about March and May.  I don't care.  This is how the Lord has organized it for us.  I am immune to the atheistic Grinchyness.  I feel badly that some cannot understand the symbolic celebration and enjoy the holiday for what it brings to mind, and instead get caught up in legalistic, mumbo jumbo.  Yep, other groups had that issue, and at Easter, we will tell stories about how they hardened their hearts and turned Jesus over to be crucified.

You can choose to remember and let it torment you.  Or you can choose to remember and let it energize you.  I choose energy.  I choose belief.  I choose salvation and deliverance.  I choose a king born to a virgin, in a manger, glorified by hosts in heaven, foretold by the prophets, and blessed of the Lord.  We don't even know exactly how many Christmas celebrations have happened.  God is not about exact, because we are incapable of containing the exact measurements of God.

I celebrated my 48th birthday on the 20th.  Yet, it feels like my 1st.  I was baptized on 11/22.  It felt and I believe it was a renewal.  Maybe that was exactly when it was supposed to happen, because the Lord knew what was in store for me within a month.  I choose to believe that with all my soul.  I choose to celebrate, because I am born again.  I choose to not be captive to death and memory.  I choose to celebrate life and what will be.

In the end, the single and solitary thing we get power over on this earth, is the choosing.  I did not need the last few days to change me, I had already chosen to be changed.  I was, and am, saddened.  I feel it deep in me.  But, to live saddened and overcome cheats me, and it cheats my Lord.  If you have read these posts, you know that I like these lyrics, "We were meant to run in fields of forever, singing praises to our Savior and King."  Praises come from loss and sorrow, they are the reflection, the antithesis of loss.  I think we have to experience loss to really understand gain.  And, I gain everything in the Lord.

So, that was my Christmas gift this year.  I was given one of the greatest losses that anyone can sustain, and I now have something to frame praise greater than any I have sung.  We all grieve differently, and at our own timeframe.  I do not judge, nor do I condemn.  I will hold your hand through it, pray for you and with you over it, hurt with you and for you.  But, as for me, and my house, we will serve the Lord.  And we will do it with a smile informed by sadness but not hiding grief.  There is no grief in the Lord.  Do not be afraid!  Call on the Lord, He will give you rest, and hold you in His mighty and victorious right hand.  You will rise up on wings like eagles.  You will run and not grow weary.  You will walk and not grow faint.  You will be a conqueror in Christ, who strengthens you.

That is what I celebrate this year.  There was born a Savior, in Bethlehem, in a manger.   He loved me enough to ensure that I knew about Him.  He loved my Daddy enough to ensure he knew about Him.  And, because of that, in faith, I know I will see Him and Daddy, and Mama, and Granny and Bobby, and all the myriad hosts again.  If you cannot celebrate the birth of that legacy and the very fact that God took the form of man for you, and He would have done it for you, and you alone, if no one else chose Him in all the history of the world, you do not understand Christmas.

Please go find a place to worship.  If you cannot do it in a church, then do it with friends, family, loved ones of any description.  It is enough of a gift to cover all your sins, and that is a mighty gift.  What you give or get others is really immaterial, and not the point of the season.  Love each other, remember fondly and with love, and praise the Lord.  That is my recipe for a Merry Christmas, and I intend to keep it very merry indeed, to paraphrase Mr. Dickens.

It is not easy, that choice.  It is not that there is not sadness, it is that there is not defeat.  I choose to think that death is a victory, for a race well run.  I cried, and I will cry again today, and probably at some point tomorrow and the next day.  Who knows how many days?  I still have days and situations that put me in tears over not having Mama with me.  That loss is mine, and I can find comfort in the Lord, not absence of loss.  The Lord's yoke is light, but it is still a yoke.  We have our burdens.  But, I won't bow to them, or ignore the victory in the loss.  That is my best understanding and explanation.

God Bless Us Every One.

GLYASDI

Potholes

I woke up this morning with a gigantic new pothole in my life.  I heard this concept a long time ago, and my memory does not allow me to credit the person who originally described the phenomenon.  But, I have lived with this ever since I first heard it.

When there are losses in your life, they become potholes in your road.  Our road is a self generated loop in our minds, with the scenery of our walk directly tied to our experiences, memories and learnings.  When there is a trauma, it creates a pothole in the road.  A bump, whose depth is related to the seriousness of the trauma.

It resonated with me, as I grew up on a gravel road.  There was, and is, a constant need to maintain the road.  Potholes form after every rain storm, and they only get worse over time.  They form in the same places, every time, because of the shape and incline of the road being the same every time.  It never stops.  I have even heard tell that when those old gravel roads are paved, the spots that need repair are always the same spots that generated the gravel potholes.

The remedy for the road is always the same.  You have to go level it out as best you can.  Then you bring in fresh gravel, more than is needed to fill the hole and do your best to pack it down in the hole.  Then you level the road out as best you can again.  Then you pack it down again, then you level it again.  This is all done after the rain.  You keep doing this occasionally, between heavy rain events, but nothing stops it from happening again, when the rain gets heaviest.

Our lives mimic that.  When the rain, stress and life, gets heaviest, the smallest particles of the gravel run off with the water.  That leaves just the larger pebbles and stones.  As the wheels, the pace of our living, pass over these larger stones, they skip and spin.  That spinning, turmoil in our lives, digs the dirt out just after the stone.  So, the pothole actually forms just after the stone, the hole in our life is just after the trauma.  The more the spinning, or the more times we go over it, the larger the pothole gets.

Yesterday, there was a huge bump in the road.  A great big rock, my father, left the road of my life.  What that means is that now, there is nothing to stop the slide into the pothole, it is just a sharp drop and then the slog out of it.  My father was a huge rock in my life.  Whenever I heard his voice, I was safe, I was okay, it was alright.  All my life, my Daddy was home base, if you were with him, nothing could touch you.  He absorbed the shock and pain for us all.

He certainly was not a perfect man.  I have no illusions about any of us.  Yet, for all his rough ways, and there were many.  We called it old timey, or stubborn, or foolish.  But, it was Daddy.  His road had more potholes in it than I could possibly count.  I find him amazing.

His childhood at home, was horrific by all accounts.  His father was an angry and abusive drunk.  I have only vague memories of a frail old man that liquor had completely ravaged.  I harbored a lot of hate of that man, as a young man, when I learned the truth of the situation.  He abused four of the people dearest to me in the world.  My Granny, my Daddy, my Uncle Billy and my Uncle Alvin.  If you asked me to describe what the devil looked like, when I shut my eyes, I saw those rheumy, yellow eyes and sunken cheeks.  He was my boogey man in a lot of ways.

Daddy never stopped loving him.  I know that they fought, I know that he hated what happened to his family.  But, that was still his Daddy.  And in his heart, he still loved the man.  No one is a monster all the time.  I would learn that later in my life, and my hard heartedness would change for a man whose life I could not imagine.  Joe Hill, Sr. was more of a decent man than I can fathom, and had enough love to not harden his heart against that figment of my imagination.  When I was old enough, that was a powerful lesson to me.

Daddy's first child, my sister, was born with a serious birth defect, spinal bifida.  She was the first child in North America to survive what was then pioneering surgery.  And, she was not paralyzed from it.  My sister's story is a gigantic pothole in a lot of lives, most certainly in my father's.  I won't go into that here.  But, in all of its terrific fury, my father never lost sight of the fact that to him, she was his personal miracle.  I confess to you that I did not, nor do not understand it.  I do not possess my father's love and compassion and forgiveness.  But, none of that matters, in the story of my father, she remained his miracle, and he loved her unconditionally.  That much is absolutely true.  I wish I could more closely follow his example when it comes to the pothole of my sister.

Daddy's fourth child, my brother Jeffrey, was born and died within a few hours.  That sorrow and sadness never left my father, nor my mother.  They did not speak of it often, I can only think of twice that my father spoke of it to me.  Both times, I saw tears in my father's eyes, which was something I had never seen else wise.  That sorrow I have never known, but I think it struck my father and mother severely because they had the experience of a miracle with their first child.  Why they did not see such a miracle with their fourth was a mystery to them.  It was the forbidden place in their lives, and we did not go there.  I never knew my father to attend the funeral of a child, nor can I bring myself to do that.

My father was very proud of my choice to join the Navy.  He was sad to see me go, but knew what I had chosen.  He supported me and made my leaving easy, though I did not.  The day after I left, my step-grandfather, who my father referred to as my grandfather, Pop, Harry Miller, passed away.  This was not shocking, from a medical standpoint.  But, to the family, it was devastating.  We mourned a huge hole in our hearts.  It was more difficult, because this was the love of my Granny's life.  That man loved her, and us, with all of his heart.  I can't speak of my Pop without feeling an overwhelming loss, to this day.  I know my father loved him and missed him in the same way.  Suddenly, for all of us, this large, very turbulent family, my father was the only father figure.  His load quadrupled, and yet he handled it with a grace and ease that amazes me still.  I was in Boot Camp, and not there to be the support my father should have had from his oldest.  It was a role I should have played that I missed.  That is one of my largest potholes.

Daddy's world got very small in 1987 when my Uncle Billy died.  I did not understand how much that affected my father.  It was an ugly passing.  The cancer ravaged a man that was larger than life.  I was away for 95% of it, in schools for the Navy, transitioning through 4 duty stations in the course of my uncle's disease.  The man that took me fishing and crabbing, that laughed and conspired on tricks on my grandfather, that was one half of the duo that loved and defended my grandmother, was gone.  I saw him in the hospital, near the end.  He was not even remotely like himself.  He hugged me, a tear in his eye, and told me "Go, don't come back.  Don't remember this, this isn't us.  Remember crabbing, laughing.  Don't come back.  I love you."

I do not know what goodbye my father had with his brother.  I don't know what he said to his mother at that passing.  I don't know how he carried the entire family.  I was not home, and could not attend.  That had become a recurring theme.  Yet, he did, quietly, with few words and a gentle touch of those powerful hands on your shoulder.  I cannot think of my uncle in that hospital, I cannot bring a vivid picture of that sight to mind.  I have repressed it completely.  I just remember the boat and the laughing, as he asked.  I think Daddy got there, but that pothole is one I cannot understand, as I have not experienced it.  Daddy never shared that, beyond a sigh and a smile at the thought of his brother.

There were many passings after that.  As the older generation reached the point that life and its living, took them in turn, it was hard.  When my Maw Maw passed, it hurt my Daddy.  She had Altzheimer's and had not been herself for several years.  But, everytime she saw my Daddy, she called him Joe.   He was proud of that.  I don't know if it was because she connected to that face, or that face reminded her of someone in the parts of her life that the disease had not destroyed, and it did not matter to my father.  She was a woman that treated Daddy more decently than anyone but his own mother.  He loved her completely, and his heart was broken by the ravages of the disease, long before the death.  For him and Mama, I think the death was a relief.  That pothole is evident in all of us, and we all despise that disease, like we despise cancer.

In 1994, my father beat cancer for the first time.  That word hung over him for the rest of his life, a constant and nagging pothole, his life's washboard.  Every time I talked to him after that, he told me when the next scan was, or the results of the latest scan.  When it recurred, he found the will to fight, and win.  When it popped up in his colon, he found the will to fight and win.  Each fight was harder, for us and for him.  When it popped up a second time in his colon, he was almost certain that would be what killed him.  I think that terrified him most because that is what took Uncle Billy, and it was horrible.  I will finish this story later.

In 1997, my father's heart broke forever.  My mother passed after a long bout with illness that was endemic in her family and had already taken her sister, Jan.  It was a shock to us all, a huge, massive heart attack that took her immediately.  My father never recovered.  That part of his heart never opened back up, and was never shared with anyone, ever again.  It was among the most horrific things I have ever dealt with, and would prove to be a pothole that I would need to watch my father navigate.  I had never heard or seen my father cry in sorrow like that.  I lost my mother, my Mama, and it broke my heart.  But, it tore my soul to see the trauma that he suffered.  I could not help him, I could do nothing but love him.  That was the love of his life, and had been since he first set eyes on her, on a sidewalk in Florida, in a crowd of people he had never met before.

I have nothing to offer to explain the change in my father.  He was never again the man he had been before.  There was a profound change.  He carried a heavy burden of loneliness and longing.  I could see it, but not touch it.  I just know that death did not scare him at all, because he knew that he would see Joyce again.  And his Mama.

In 2013, my Granny passed.  She was the center of all of our family for 70 years.  She helped raise, or did raise almost all of Daddy's generation.  She loved them all, all their children, all their children's children and then all their children's children's children.  "Come in here and eat before you get hungry," was guaranteed to come out of her mouth when you pulled up in the driveway.  I have never met a soul like my Granny's, and I hope that some of it has transferred to my soul.  She was such a loss to all of us.  I think we all felt the rudderless feeling that the center was gone.  None of us felt that more than Daddy.  And, that pothole would jar him again and again and again.  We loved her, but none of us loved her like he did.

My father continued to care for his brother, Alvin.  But, it was different.  He had already gone through so much.  The potholes were large, numerous and got bigger.  When he fell ill in October, and the doctor's told him it was colon cancer, he was convinced that it would take him.  After the surgery, when the surgeon told him that he had gotten it all, and they were concerned about the spot on his lung, he just wanted to start the chemo for the colon cancer.  He did not consider the spot on his lung a big deal.  You see, there had been a spot of scar tissue that everyone had watched for years.  He did not understand that it was a different spot, a very different and aggressive spot.

His health declined rapidly in the month after he was released from surgery.  We took him to the hospital on Monday, because the oncologist said he was too ill to be anywhere else.  They admitted him to the ICU.  On Tuesday, they did some scans and some other things to make him more comfortable.  By Wednesday morning, the doctors told him that there was nothing else to be done.  The cancer was too aggressive.

My Daddy, my rock, said "Shit, shit, shit!  Well, make me comfortable then, cause I sure as hell aint."  It broke my heart, but made my soul roar.  He knew, but it was okay.  That was a man's answer, and he had it at the end.

Within 12 hours of that point he was gone.  He was surrounded by his family all that day.  We cried, laughed, talked, cried, laughed, talked, but, for 12 hours someone was there holding his hand in love.  When he finally slipped away, it was surrounded by love and peace.

For all the potholes, for all the amazing things, for all the turmoil, for all the happiness, my father was a blessing to us all.  I have only spoken of the ruts in the road here.  There were so many more wonderful, happy moments.  But, today I have my own potholes to deal with, and this is what I had to share.  For all of them, Daddy never stopped loving us.  I never saw any pet that did not love him more than any other human.  I never saw any baby that did not quiet in his arms.  His true nature was clear when he was holding one of his babies, and he held them all.  They loved him immediately, and completely.  My Daddy was that way.  And I got to be the second baby that he held more than any other.  If you don't think I loved him more than I can express, you miss my entire point.

I have huge potholes in my road.  But, this one, this one never gets filled.  It is raw and painful at the moment.  But, like Mama, there is too much love and good there for that to last long.  I can only feel sorry for myself, over my pain.  Daddy is happy, black hair slicked back, window rolled down on that big black Ford, arm around Mama in the center of the bench seat, burning down those rear tires till they are bald.  That will always be my image, because that was the only thing that really made my Daddy smile after 1997, in the way that only my Daddy could smile.  Talking about his Joyce and that car, those were his touchstones.

The best news, for all of us, is this.  Where he and Mama (and Pop, and Billy, and Jeffrey and Granny) are now, there are NO potholes in the road.  They left all that behind.  While we can't do that here and now, we can choose how we manage them.  Instead of whipping the wheel left and right trying to miss them, and failing, we can just do our best to fill them up, and get through.

I love you and miss you Daddy.  I don't know what to do about it.  I doubt I ever will.  But, while this is a rough old road, I know where the roads are smooth.  I hope Daddy is racing down them, winning every run.  Now, the tank never gets empty, the tires never blow, and the engine never gives up.

GLYASDI

Old pictures and crooked noses

I have a passion for history and old photographs.  I love knowing the stories, and seeing the faces of those I never met.  In my family in particular, there is absolutely no doubt as to who is in our family from pictures.

There is a distinctive appearance in our family, a facial structure and build that is unmistakable.  I look at hundred year old photographs, and some of them are like looking in a mirror.  When I can put a name to the face, a face so similar to my own, or to members of my family, it is a connection.  I feel like I know them, at least a small amount.

I look at family history and photos quite frequently.  It is a quiet pastime for me, usually in the morning, while the rest of my thoughts are getting straightened out in my head.  Sometimes, though, it has to happen, because of life events.

We went through family photos these last few days, trying to find the set of pictures for my father's funeral.  It is hard.  The photos remind me of all the things that are water under our family bridge.  There are some tough memories in there.  Sickness, injury, tragedy, loss.  We have them, as does every other family in the world.  This is the way it is, there are things.

But, what I found is that we have few of those.  We have so many, many more great memories.  The pictures remind us of the time when...

We have issues in our family.  We don't have it all figured out.  We are not immune to bad things, bad decisions, addiction, all that stuff.  It is there, and we are dealing with it, every day.  We are not what you would call wealthy.  We are not starving, but, none of us have excess dollars for things that are frivolous. Who does right?

So, we are not reality TV in either direction. We are not Keeping up the the K's, they can go on and go where they are going.  We are also not in Lizard Lick, and that is fine as well.  We are just an American family.  We have some in jail.  We have some in ministry.  We have some that work with their hands for their livelihood.  We have some that work in professional roles.  We have some that can't recall the last time they did not wear camo as part of their daily wardrobe.  We have some that wear a uniform.

We don't all get along, nor have we all done the right thing by each other.  I am ashamed to admit to you that I can catalog most of the wrongs done to me, because that is one of my biggest struggles in forgiveness.  There actually is a lot of wrong doing.  We are people, no better or worse than anyone else, which means we do a lot of wrong stuff.  Generally, we don't have any ill intention to each other.  Sometimes, we intend the hell out of bad things.  And, we are Scots-Irish, we know it hurts worse when it is family.  We make use of that.

I am going through all of this, not to portray my family, that I love dearly, as some kind of crazed tribe of warring clans.  I am just saying that we are about as par for the course as you can shoot, on an American course.

And, even though we are par, average, in the norm, non-outlying, within the lines, all of those things; we are still breathtaking in scope.  A simple statement about a repair needed on a car can result in 20 people angry at one another, all for a different reason, 18 of them because of stuff said to get back at someone that they were not even speaking to, or even heard themselves.  God forbid that we have an actual event or get together for "all" of us.  Guaranteed that there will be at least one near (or real) fist fight, several arguments, probably some drunkenness and definitely a blow out over who "cheated" at cornhole/kick ball/Scrabble.

We do all of this, with each other, knowing it is coming, but unable to stop ourselves.  It is just part of the risk profile.  Against that, we balance the fact that with all the turmoil, all the stress, all the conflict, we are still the most entertaining, interesting and loving people any of us have ever known.

We love each other enough that even with the inevitable, it is still just so much fun and so warm and loving to be with these people, it is worth it.  I think that was one of the chief lessons of my Daddy's life.  He tried very hard to let us all understand that us being together, being us, is the goal.

We will not have a red carpet event.  No one is likely to have an award.  It may even be my turn to end up with skinned knuckles and rib bruises.  But, coming together with this crew, to remember and celebrate one of the most decent, loving and family focused men I have ever encountered, we are going to be the most comfort and the most fun and the most loving people we can imagine, for each other.

It is just us.  I look at the old pictures and wonder how many of the crooked noses were family inflicted 100 years ago.  I know that where we are, is not new to this genetic pool.  Every generation has to accept it, has to learn to cope with it, and try their best to eliminate it.

I don't want to do this, because I don't want my Daddy to be dead.  I want very much to see my family, to be with them.  It sucks why we are doing it, and raw emotion will contribute to the difficulty we experience.  But, before we all leave, we will hug each other.  We will say "I love you," and mean it.  We will laugh, when someone falls, before we help them up.  We will laugh, when we fall down ourselves, before we get up.   We will not have an easy time of it.

But we will have a loving time.  We will have a family time.  And, I love them.  I would not trade any of them.  And I am positive you do not want to try to get between me and them.  I made my living being a warrior for 21 years, but learned all about fighting from these people.  Bad as I am, you do not want my cousins after you.  If we get together and get after you, we'll scare Liam Neeson.

I miss Daddy, I miss my family, I miss the world as it was.  I wish our pictures of all of us were not almost entirely from funerals.  But, I know that the old pictures, the stories I stare at, they are almost all from funerals and gathering the family for that.

We will be at Sacred Heart Catholic Church, as we have been for the better part of 350 years doing this.  It is so familiar, and so sad.  But it is also good.  I love and miss all of these people.  They miss me.  They are worth it, every one of them.  That was Daddy's main lesson.  To him, and to me, we were all worth it.

I love you and miss you Daddy.  I think that the family will outdo itself, and maybe even without any stress.  Well, no, too late.  But we love you, all of us.  We know you loved us.  100 years from now, someone will look at my crooked nose and wonder who gave it to me.  For the record, it was not a member of the family.  But the crooked pinky and the two mangled toes, they came from previous dust ups at gatherings.

GLYASDI

I am proud to tell folks, I am Junior

The last 4 days have been a whirlwind.  We got home late last night, after a terribly hard day and week.  We were out of medicine, clothes, and tears.  We had to come back to Clayton and restock.  We are going to need more of all them in the next few days.

I am a sentimental guy.  It cuts both ways.  I have little use for those that have done me wrong.  I remember the sentiment.  I am working on the good Christian part, and working on forgiving them and letting it go.  I mean, they are not carrying the burden, I am.  And, I don't want to waste my energy on them, continuing to carry the burden.  But, I am about as Scottish in ancestry as you can get in America, after 370 years.  I would have the blue paint on my face, and be living the feud, if that were still acceptable.

But, honestly, I do have much more memory and consideration for the good things in my life.  My life has been informed by amazing women, too many to count.  I love them all, honor them all and treasure them all.  They were instrumental in shaping the man I am today.

But, I am the man I am today, because I am Joseph Walter Hill, Sr.'s first born son.  I am his namesake.  I look like him, in almost every way.  I have many of his traits.  I have his temper.  I have his quiet humor.  I have his cough.  I sit like him.  I owe who I am to him, in ways I will never realize and never have enough gratitude for.

For the last few weeks, as we have all dealt with Daddy's health issues, whenever we went somewhere, the question would be asked, who are you.  It got to be easiest to answer, I am Junior.  That let them know my name, and my relationship to Daddy, quickly and easily.  It just got to be the quick answer that worked best.

I will share a secret, here, I am not all the proud of.  I always hated to be called Junior.  I did not like the name, and didn't realize when I was younger that it made me feel like a shadow, not a real person.  I have never liked the name, or those that called me that, all my life.  And, I am pretty sure I got that from Daddy.  He didn't like anyone calling me that, but him.  He would tell them, that is Joey.  And, he had that tone of voice that made it permanent immediately.

He never wanted me to be a shadow.  He never wanted any of us to be a shadow.  He was, and is, proud of all of us, his children and grandchildren.  Whatever we may feel about ourselves, he is proud of all of us, all the time.  I think it is very hard to get anywhere in the world, if you do not have the experience of knowing someone whose worth you treasure beyond description, is proud of you.  If you have experienced that feeling, the world is not as daunting, nor is it a place that scares and confuses you.  You know you have made at least one very fine man, proud.  It is enough, even in the tough times.

But, back to my point, that name Junior, it really never was my cup of tea.  I have signed documents with Junior in my signature for 48 years.  I am as proud of that word in my name as any of the others.  But, like everyone, I wanted to be my own person, to stand on my own two feet.  I did not realize how heavy the world was, when you did that.

For the last few weeks, as we have navigated the events that led up to yesterday, it just came out.  "I am Junior."  There would be a smile and a nod, and then we did not have any more questions or discussion about how I fit into the equation.  It worked.  And, I did not think about it, until I was driving home last night at one in the morning.

That name magnifies me, so much more than it relegates me.  If ever I can be junior, if ever I can be enough of a loving, caring and decent man to just be a Joe junior, I will have made it.  I am positive that last night, Daddy did a few things when he left us.

I know it is not doctrinal, nor does it match what John and Isaiah wrote.  But, last night, the angels and saints were absolutely driving around heaven in '57 Chevrolets, dropped low and neat, without anything but all that chrome that always made Daddy smile.  Except for one.  A tiny little woman, so excited that she couldn't sit still in the seat, slid to a halt at those gate in a long, straight black 58 Ford.  The only decoration was some simple white lettering on the front fenders, "Bad Alimogator".

I am positive she jumped out, and all of heaven celebrated when Daddy wrapped her up in his arms.  There has been a 28 year wait for that, that I am positive Mama did not notice, but it weighed every day on Daddy.

And in that car, because it is big enough to hold them all, was Granny, on two good legs; Billy, with his hair slicked back; Harry, proud as he could be; and Jeffrey, to give his Daddy the hug he has been waiting for.  Judy and Jan, smiling and giggling, because Joyce doesn't go anywhere without them.  In my mind, there was a celebration of joy and completeness, I can see it plain.

Then, if I know my Daddy, he piled them in that big, beautiful, black machine, dropped it down into low and laid perfect, straight, dark tiremarks down the center of that golden street, smiling that crooked smile, chin quivering.  And, I am betting God gave him the time himself, and he broke seven.  The perfect run.

That is what my Daddy had, in the end, the perfect run.  I know that there was sadness.  I know that there was suffering.  I know there was loneliness.  I know that there was sickness.  I know that there was struggle.  But, if you ask me, he broke seven, without a sweat.

I don't know how to say goodbye to him.  He is so much of my life.  I just know that he is not struggling for air.  I know that his hands have the strength they used to.  I know he has that black Vitalis look, and every hair in place.  And right there beside him, he has the only woman he loved in his entire life.  I don't know if there is marriage in heaven, I know what the Bible says.  But, I know that regardless, Joe Beans is going to be standing next to Joyce, worshiping the Father.  You better believe it.

I never wanted this day to come.  I guess we all know that it will eventually.  But, last night, surrounded with the family that loved him, listening to us laugh, tell stories, celebrate all that he gave us and made us, Daddy slipped away to take a little nap, like he used to tell us.  I pray that I am surrounded by that much love, when my time is done.  I can't think of a thing he would have changed about it, in fact, there was not a thing he asked for that was not there.

My heart hurts, because this is final on this side of God.  But, my soul is happy.  I know where my Daddy is, he is with my Father, and that is enough for me.  I want to thank you all for the prayers and support and kind words.  I, and my family, treasure them.  We appreciate it more than I can describe.

I am going to close and see if I can hear that big block in that Ford, singing on the breeze.  Absolutely, God loves him some Joe Beans, and he gave him to us for a while.  But, heaven needed someone just right, and they got him at 9:21 last night.

God bless you Daddy.  You surely enough blessed us all.

GLYASDI

It is good

So, what did I do today?  Let me tell you, while it may not seem much to many, it was a really good day.  My beautiful and brilliant wife helped me to understand that there is so much happiness in my life I do not share here, and that I should.

Today, I enjoyed the benefits of a wonderful career with a stable company.  I do not worry about my employment future, because as long as I continue to work hard and provide value, I am confident I have nothing to worry about.  That doesn't mean it won't change, that upheaval might not happen, but I don't worry about lay-offs, market downturns and those other forces that deprive millions from contentment and happiness.

I am never negligent in thanking God for what He has provided me professionally since I was 17 years old.  He directed me to a calling that I excelled at, and then to a profession following that I absolutely love doing.  I am well rewarded, personally and financially for it, and it energizes me to continue to drive to do better and be better.  I don't do this alone, the team around me and that supports me is better than any I have ever been associated with.

I don't say it often enough, but the collection of people and talents we have assembled in my team are absolutely the most professionally advanced group I have ever had the privilege to work with.  I had very talented teams in the Navy.  We had spirit and patriotism and bravery to spare.  But, the team I lead today is hands down the best engineering and maintenance group that I have seen or worked with.  And, we are a team, we are not constantly happy and bubbly, but we mesh and interact and respond so very well together.

But, today, we bopped around the house doing the little bit of what we did, looking forward to a Christmas party we will attend later.  We have our financial needs met and the ability to respond to God generously.  I will get up Monday and take care of family business of the worst kind, and know that my team will cover what happens, without worries or fears.  And Tuesday, we will get back at it together and continue climbing the mountain.  That is a privilege and non-stress that many do not experience and I am categorically grateful for that blessing, that I take for granted way too often.

I have a fur baby.  I honestly have avoided blogging about my Tuff, because you will all get tired of hearing about him quick enough.  But, I will risk it occasionally.  We had a long night last night, neither of us slept well, kind of up and down.  It happens.  Tuff alternated between comforting Trina and laying on me, as he usually does.

I believe that we are in his pack.  He is the alpha dog in the hierarchy, in his mind.  In his mind, he is 9 pounds of royalty within the confines of our home.  He does not tolerate other animals in his zone.  He does not tolerate either Trina or I paying attention to other animals in his zone.  He somewhat accepts people, because he does not worry about them eventually leaving.  We should probably have socialized him better as a pup, but he is not a sharing personality.  Then, neither am I.

So, I have a companion.  We play every day, when I come in the door.  Even when I don't feel well, that little white tip of his tail flying at 60 hertz gets me motivated.  We like most to play tug with whatever stuffing-less stuffy he has not destroyed yet.  We call them his girlfriends, because he is an adolescent male, and you know what that means.  I also enjoy playing fetch.  He never gets tired of the game, but is not interested if we are outside.

When I am not feeling well, he lays on my shoulder, when I am in the recliner, across my chest.  He sleeps curled up in between my legs every night, in the recliner, until I wind down and it is time for bed.  We have a companion to our life here in the house that has been amazing for both of us.  Trina says that he is the best medicine she has ever had, and I would say that is true for me as well.  He is our stress relief, and our little partner in crime.  His part in making our lives rich is huge, and I don't always remember to be as thankful for the blessing as I should be.  It take it for granted too often.

We have four children, who are all committed to significant others, so we really have 8 children.  I find it easiest to just approach it that way.  I pray for them all with the same passion, I worry about them all with the same urgency, I would sacrifice whatever, for any of them.  They are ours, and they belong to each other.  They all have their own homes, their own paths, and their own lives.

We have been blessed to be able to help in some ways.  I mean, we have helped financially at times, we have been able to help physically at times, we have helped emotionally at times.  We have helped understand the world.  We have provided advice and guidance, sometimes when it probably was not necessarily desired.  We try to not push, but we do love them all very deeply.

We have eight wonderful people deeply entwined in our lives.  They all relate to us separately and differently, but in love and respect.  We feel it from them, and are confident that they provide us love and support, always.  What they don't always know is how blessed we are to do other things for them that are not so apparent.  We remember them daily in our prayers together.  We hold them up before the Lord for strength and health.  We pray diligently for their happiness.  We want them to be healthy, safe and happy.  However we can assist in that, is what we feel is our calling.

Those eight amazing people enrich and broaden our lives in so many ways.  It is easy to focus on struggles and issues and the multitudes of ways that life can be complex and challenging.  We don't focus enough, as a family, on the love and the fulfillment that we give each other.  I am grateful to God above, every single day, all day, for those eight people I have been given to love and support in a special way.  I do not ever take my responsibility for granted, but I think I take the benefits from it for granted more than I should, and I don't thank them enough for what they give me.

And, I am blessed beyond measure, and without reserve, by my wife.  I am not a fully formed human being on my own.  With Trina, I do have a full life, and a full being.  I think that we all have that second piece that we need to find that just fits.  I don't know how we were ever meant to find each other, or how we were being prepared to make it right, or how we were supposed to respond along the way.  I only know that somehow, due to the grace of God, we made it to here, both of us.

Today, we just spent the day together.  We walked for a while, we watched football for a while, we talked for a while.  It was a great day, and all of our days are great.  I do not appreciate the blessing of my life enough, because the quality and breadth of that blessing is literally beyond my description.  I have the joy of being a husband, father and son of God, because of all these amazing things and people in my life.

And, it comes from God.  I am confident that there are many more blessings to come, and that I am not near the end of my list.  I have so many that I can't catalog them or list them.  I just try to live in the joy provided by them, and give the thanks and praise where it belongs.

So, if you are reading this and wondering is it worth it, is it worth the struggle to support your family, to build the career and the resume?  It is, and the blessings that come with doing it in accordance with God's command are beyond description.

If you are wondering is it worth it, dealing with pets?  It is, and the blessings the God bestows on us and them are instrumental in our lives and our happiness.

If you are wondering if your children will thrive, can your survive the worry and stress?  They can and will.  It is beyond worth it, to see them standing on their own, being their own people, their own selves.  You will love them more than you thought possible, even as you held them as babies, and it will fulfill you in ways you cannot imagine.

If you are wondering if relationships are worth the work and struggle?  In every way, they are worth all we put into it.  Even when they don't work, we learn about ourselves and our own issues.  When we dig in, and make them work, make them sustain, give of ourselves in every way that we can, we receive a blessing from God that cannot be valued.  It is incomprehensible in worth.  And, in my life I call that blessing Katrina.

It is good, this thing called life.  And I am doing a good job of living it.  Just wanted to let everyone know, that it does happen, and it is so way worth it.

GLYASDI

Higgs boson, yes, I know what it is

Let me be clear, in advance, this is not written from the point of view of expertise or advanced knowledge.  This is written as a novice discovering truth as he stumbles along boogering it up every which way.

But, it is all about perspective.  I have so much in my life to be exceedingly happy about.  There is an abundance of every good thing in my life and in my world.  I try to keep my focus there.  It is hard to do at times.  I am living a life, just like everyone else.  Things don't work like I want them to, things don't turn out like I want them to, the results are not what I predict at times.  These are the things that get us tied up and distracted.

I have stuffed tied up all over me.  It is like I dragged the bottom of the ocean and dug up every lost fishing net since the time of Christ.  At least that is what it feels like if I let it.  While I cannot control the probabilities and outcomes, I can control the Joe stress.

In Phillipians, Paul (who I admire greatly as a man of faith and a writer), says:
"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.  Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it.  But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." (3:12-14)

I have an identity affinity with Paul.  Not that I am in any way in the ballpark of Paul's accomplishments, nor of his caliber in the pantheon, but I do have an affinity with the man and his words.  His preaching and writing speak to me in ways that the writing of Peter and James and Jude and John do not.  It is not that those other writers do not edify me, or strengthen my faith, or are in some way inferior to Paul, I just have a close affinity to how and what Paul says.

In that regard, I pay closer attention to what Paul is saying about himself than I would otherwise, because I ask often if it is true of me.  If I have an affinity, there must be a connection in response.  So, when I am struggling, or heavily burdened, I come back to Phillipians alot.  This is Paul communicating about joy, and about love for this church, and its effect on him.  It is my comfort source when I am heavy laden.

In 4:4-7; Rejoice in the Lord always.  I will say it again: Rejoice!  Let your gentleness be evident to all.  The Lord is near.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I am anxious about just about everything.  It is how I am wired.  God made me this way.  That does not mean it is okay to let myself be a slave to that predisposition.  I work on that every day.  I had a very long night, thinking about many things that are weighing on me.  I finally started searching in me for how do I get out of that funk, and I could back to 4:7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I got some sleep, and I woke up with some peace.  Not because I have answers to the situations in front of me, but because I have someone to take the burden.  If I allow Him to, He will guard my heart and mind.  I won't understand how, it transcends my understanding.  But He will give me peace.

That is a big, joyful commitment from the Father.  In our times of strife and struggle, we can get peace.  It does not make it easier, nor does it make us smarter.  But, it does let us know that we are not alone in the struggle.  We are not abandoned to our own devices.  And, we will be given the understanding we need, to end up where the Lord desires.

I hope that I don't need much peace, going forward, that we have an easy time determining our path.  But, I suspect, based on past experience, that the world will likely be a rough road.  But, it is okay.  I press on, to take hold of that for which Christ took hold of me.  That is a key thing.  This is not me bopping around, trying to just be a good guy where I can.  There is a purpose to my journey, directed by Christ, that requires me to take hold of something, some faith, some peace, some discernment, some wisdom.  I have a part to play, and I am given all the tools I need.  I just have to be willing to let Christ direct the path.

I think that is the biggest struggle people have, committing to belief in the Christian faith.  It is contrary to our nature to accept that we do not control our ultimate outcome.  It is contrary to our thought that Christ is directing us.  The sin voice calls it manipulative.  The holy voice calls it calling.  Whichever your listen to, the urge is real.  The direction is undeniable.  You can avoid it, ignore it, refuse it.  That is what free will consists of, but you cannot escape it.

When we have relationship or life regret, it is always around those points where Christ called us, and we refused the call.  It is always wrapped up in hurting ourselves or others, but the regret, the shame the guilt, that is from ignoring Christ.  He is our Lord, whether we accept Him or not, and that cannot be ignored deep in your soul.  It is a thing which we cannot alter within us.  Our intellect is not equal to the task, nor is our pride and hubris able to deny it in our inner heart of truth.

It pains me to watch people in turmoil with the calling of Christ.  It pains you too.  It is what makes us hurt for those addicted, those sickened, those in poor life situations.  We knew the calling of Christ in their life, and see them in conflict with it, and that hurts us.  Not just from sympathy and empathy, but because it reflects our own conflict.  We know that we don't have it down and perfect.

We should keep coming back to 4:7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.  If we obey the calling of Christ, the peace of God protects our hearts and minds.  How do missionaries face danger and privation daily with joy?  The peace of God guards their hearts and minds, because they are living the calling of Christ.

Frustration, fear, worry, concern, these are all things that God wants us to throw off.  I am working to that end.  I am working on following the calling of Christ, though what that path is is not clear to me today.  But, I know that if I seek it, God will protect me and will protect mine.

That is my joyful report this morning.  I know who has my back.  I know who has my six.  I know what kind of firepower my backup brings to the fight, and I am not scared to scrap with anyone.  Because I don't have to face it with fear, I can find a way to enjoy it with joy.  Sounds crazy, but it is true, and that is part of the miraculous nature of God.  It is beyond our understanding, but that does not make it unreal.  We took 40 years to isolate the Higgs boson, and it is still questionable if we constructed the science to fit our observation, or observed what our science predicted.  It is, still, in ways beyond our understanding but that does not make it unreal.

I am not worried about elemental physics particles of sizes on the infinitely small this weekend.  I am way more interested in tying into forces that are universally large, and get me some of God's peace, God's joy and God's love.  I hope you will all pray that for me and for yourselves.  That is my prayer for you.  Tie in to things that are larger than all our comprehension, instead of our continued focus on minutia that is too small to measure in the grand scheme of things.

GLYASDI

Worry

I just finished reading an article about Toby Mac.  He is a Christian music superstar, rather, he is a music superstar.  There are not many artists that have sold over 11 million copies of anything.  By any reckoning, that is a successful career.

But, what it left me with was a question.  What are our purposes?  I mean, I can't sing or dance.  They were not things left in my bag of talents.  I am unable to dunk a basketball.  I am not fast enough to play defensive back, and my swing was not big enough to prove dangerous in baseball.  I don't have an inheritance or familial connection to wealth and privilege.

I am just an ordinary white guy.  I fit squarely in the center of the largest demographic in the nation.  I am of average height (48th percentile), I am of average income (not enough), and I am of average health (no limiting disabilities).  I am ordinary by all definitions that you can research.

But, I am desperately unique at the same time.  I conform to statistics and demographics, but nothing that you can describe by numbers, percentages or probabilities define me.  I am totally unique and completely indefinable by use of parameters.  I am millions of orders of magnitude more than some governmental classification.

I started with Toby Mac, and I will circle back.  I will add a name, in similar situation, Mac Powell from Third Day 7 million albums, big numbers.  Clearly, these are phenomenally successful artists, and as they are also two of my favorites, I have some tenuous connection with them.  But, I would bet my next two or three pay checks, they would tell you that they are not special because of music.  They would tell you they are special because God picked them for the purpose of adopting a child.  I have heard both of their testimonies over this, (I clearly have not had the opportunity to sit down and have a heart to heart with them.)

I think that is one of the key messages I have been struggling with the last few days.  You and I were created to be something special, in a certain place, in a certain time, in a certain way.  It is not about athletic or musical or academic talent.  It is all about connections and personal relations.  As we get further along in life, I think we get more keenly aware of this.

I don't know what that point in time and relations is, in my case.  I could be 20 years past it, I could be 20 years from it.  I could be fully prepared for it, or I could have a few more mountains to climb to get the proper perspective and preparation.  But, I think it is one of the things that presupposes us to anxiety and drama.

We all are convinced of our purpose, at various points in time.  Yet, we always find, after the fact, that there is more ahead of us, than there has ever been behind us.  It is a part of our nature, to catalog and contextualize things.  Some of us (me most keenly,) are much more needy when it comes to listing and cataloging.  It is part of that deep mysterious question, WHY?

Matthew 6:31-34 So do not worry, saying, "What shall we eat? or What shall we drink? or What shall we wear?" For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.  Therefor do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own.

We worry about our purpose and our place, because we worry about our success.  We worry about our talents, because we worry about our progress.  What we should be worrying about is God, and how we reflect him in our lives.

I don't have a handle on it, I don't do it well, and I am not exactly what you would call an example.  But, I am in the work.  I am in the effort.  I am in the journey.  For that, I am an example.  I use Jesus as my example.  He had no home, no 401K, no parachute plan, no security, no insurance and no prospects.  Yet, he changed the entire world in active ministry that was likely less than 36 months long.  I read somewhere that there have been over 4 billion Christians since the time of Christ.  I have no idea how they got that number, but it is an example number.

Toby Mac, tremendously successful, 11 million sold.  Mac Powell, hugely successful, 7 million sold.  Jesus, light of the world, 4 billion saved.  There is no way to compare to that, and we are not called to.

We are called to worry about today, to seek God's righteousness and his kingdom.  Let the rest worry about itself.  It did not end well for Jesus, but it ended miraculously for the world.  And, Jesus says, in Matthew 11:30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

He did the heavy lifting.  I know that I struggle with the whole worry thing.  I am wired to worry and plan and plot and strategize.  It is through and through what I was made to do in this world, and it makes me good at what I do.  But, it doesn't necessarily make me good at being me.  That is the difference.

Use your talents where appropriate, and use your trust and love where commanded.  Seek the kingdom and the righteousness, and do your best in all the rest of your life.  Give the worry over it up to God, cause he controls it all anyway.  Worrying will not make one thing different, except your stress, your health and your relationship with God.

I know of what I speak.  I am an expert.  And, it can consume you if you let it.  That is a rough way to live.  I know.  Try living the other way.  It is hard to switch gears, but so worth it.

GLYASDI

It is not a perversion

It is not a perversion of our American way.  This kind of hard hearted and bigoted mess that we are struggling with, that I am struggling with, is nothing new to America.  We have faced this from the very beginning of our nation.

We have continually been wrapped in all the complexity that divergent human beings can bring.  In a time in history that was predicated on alignment, casting out the Catholic, or Protestant, or Jew, or Frank, or Hun, America became a relief path for the pressures of the English, then European pressure cooker.  Less than 200 years later, we began to import huge numbers of Asians, again, countless numbers of people leaving their home for a difference.

I do not neglect the role of slavery.  Countless numbers of people died in the service of the slave trade that populated North and South America with Africans and their own cultures.  Yet another distinct flavor in the soup that America was becoming.  And that flavoring started early, and has continued to be integral to the basis of America.

Many things were done in the name of progress and growth of this nation I love.  Some of them were tremendous achievements in the history of the world.  Many were shining examples to the disparate reaches of a broken and violent world.  Even in times that the values espoused were under-appreciated and simply seen as rhetoric to dishonor the enemy, in their core, they were revolutionary and special to the path the world was taking.

Nothing we have done has not been tainted with failure.  We have not discovered the perfect path, nor are we illuminating a path of single file travel.  America has been and always will be a multilane highway that allows masses to go forward.  As with any large highway, there are places that congest, that cause accidents, that hold up the flow of traffic.  We are American, so we rubber neck as we pass the congestion.

The latest multicar collission on this American highway of life is named Trump.  I am unabashed in my dislike for the man as a candidate for any kind of public office.  I don't know that there is now, or ever has been a perfect candidate.  I do know that Donald J. Trump is not on the list of acceptable candidates.

I say this, not simply because I find him repellant.  What he is describing is similar in history to many other events.  Charles Lindberg, the famous aviator, was also a German sympathizer and vehemently opposed us entering the war against the Axis powers.  Henry Ford was also against war on Germany.  There is not always clarity as to what the right answer is.  Both men, after America committed to the war effort contributed mightily to the war effort.  They disagreed, but when America chose a path, they did their best for their country.  But, it was wrong, and will always be wrong and attached to them.

That will not happen with Trump.  I have always been fascinated by the obsession he has with "fair" treatment, and people being nice to him.  It is exactly like the situation I faced with my children when they were 13.  Nothing was fair, and no one was nice to them.  They grew to understand that fair is just a thing you go to, to see what vegetables won blue ribbons.  And, nice is a function of your actions.

The reason most are not nice to Trump is because he is a boor.  It is a seldom used word, almost lost to antiquity, but it is most appropriate.  He is a boor, behaves boorishly and reacts as an adolescent to any disagreement.  There are no substantive points to his claims, it will just be great or huge.  When pressed for detail, or when pointed out he is wrong, the petulance shows.  The tweets and the public comments of personal nature about those that disagree are not signs of statesmanship or maturity.

It is possible to have billions and never have achieved emotional maturity.  Having wealth is not a qualifier for much of anything but credit scores.  The most amazing thing to watch, is the throngs that go along with it.  Many, when interviewed, are standing there with their teenager at their side, and I cannot help but think, do you not see it?

It is really scary.  Trump won't be President, but he is likely to be the Republican nominee.  That should really make Republican voters ashamed.  Their party should not be represented in this way, nor in this manner.  It will be long term damaging, and yet another ill prepared and completely unelectable candidate.  Playing to the lowest common denominator has never worked in America.  It will not this time either.

This is ours to solve, ours to combat, ours to decide to accept or prevent.  It is quite remarkable, it is not dissimilar from David Dukes, the KKK guy that slicked his way in front of cameras and into nomination for major elective office.  Same rhetoric, same debasing and discriminatory agenda, same outcome, I hope.  It is quite terrifying that Trump could become President.  What happens to those that disagree with him then?  Does he call Putin a mental midget?  Does he insult and personally denigrate the Chinese leader?  Does he refuse entry to the German Chancellor?  Do we think any of these things are potentially good diplomatic stances?

Business and government/politics are different.  In the end, business is about profit and loss, and shared risk or reward.  You can ignore, paper over or otherwise cast off statements and ideas, as long as the ledger balances in favor of the deal.  That does not work with nations and with government.  Government is not a business, it is a collection of services.  It is not a profit and loss proposition, which is why there is little in the way of solution being suggested by the Republicans.

There is change needed.  But, a bigoted, small minded, maturity challenged, unprepared and petulant spoiled rich kid that is 69 years old, that should not be our standard.  It is discouraging, honestly, about our country, that he is where he is in the race.  It is really indefensible.  But, it is not a perversion, we have seen it before in history.  I hope we just remember the lessons we learned the hard way then.  John C. Calhoun could have been President.  We got smart in time.  Will we now?

GLYASDI

John Finn and what heroes mean

I am a sailor.  I am proud to be a sailor.  I spent over 21 years in uniform and I do not regret a single moment of it.  I was not a hero.  I was never put in a position to do something that I would term heroic.  But, I knew of heroes, and I met some of them.

Rudy, you all remember Rudy from Survivor.  The crew cut guy three or four decades older than all the rest of the contestant, but way more man than the rest combined.  I met him at Little Creek.  He was a hero, because he was a dude like us, but bigger.  We loved his stories.

Carl Brashear, Men of Honor, you know, the guy Cuba Gooding Jr. played in the movie.  Met him at Little Creek too.  Just one of the best men I had the privilege to meet.  That sense of integrity and internal rightness that was displayed in the movie, that was real.

I did not know these men personally, I met them.  I am basing my assessment on just that chance encounter that I had.  I feel like I know them, and not because of the movie, but because they were sailors like me.  I had a connection to them that made them real men to me.  They wore the anchors I wore.  They led sailors like I did.  They shared an experience with me that made a bond I could understand.

But, they did not consider themselves heroes.  They considered themselves sailors.  But, we all knew who our heroes were.  We could tell you what hero means.

Hero means leaving your home on Sunday morning, running to a hangar already on fire, organizing the men that were manning the weapons, taking charge of the machine gun emplacement, because you are the only one that knows how to utilize it effectively.  You then spend hours firing at the enemy, taking wounds.  You basically refuse care, and continue to lead, position and motivate the men around you, to be ready for a follow on attack.

Hero means your name is Chief John Finn.  And you receive the first Congressional Medal of Honor for combat valor in World War II.  You become a man that inspires and informs generations of sailors as to what hero means, and what Chief means.  You live a long, long life, carrying shrapnel from the attack to your grave.  You claim, consistently that you are not the hero, just a sailor.

Hero means something in the Navy.  Hero means you stand with men like John Finn.  Carl Brashear, he is at that point for me.  The gallantry and perseverance and honor that he discharged his duty and paved the way for men of color, and those with disabilities, are the things that make a hero.  We honor his memory and his story in the Navy.

December 7th is a day which will live in infamy.  That means something to the Navy, and will always.  We have a date similar to that in September 11th.  They are days remembered for treachery and for wanton violence.  They are days of consequence, they shook what it meant to be American.  It galvanized the resolve within us.  It woke a sleeping giant, and the world trembled at its steps.

We feel disconnected from our heroes, because we want them to be more than us.  We know, inside, that our heroes are just us, just American, and just doing all that they can to do all they could.  They did not have a special set of skills or values.  They did not have some thing that does not exist in us all.  They just did not have the ability to not do what was required of them.

So, men like Carl Brashear, John Finn, they become lionized figures of reverance.  I think it is a disservice.  I think they need to be remembered as men, just like us.  Because they were just like us, and chose to be all that they could instead of  just being afraid.  They were not immune to fear, but they were not enslaved by it.  Instead of acting on their fear, they acted on their courage and commitment, with honor.

If you ask any Chief, that was initiated, they will tell you that one thing alone is indispensible as a Chief Petty Officer in the US Navy.  You must have an internal honor that makes the anchor more than a badge.  We are reminded that normal men, women, people of every background, religion, race and characteristic all have the capacity for heroism inside of them.

As the few remaining survivors of Pearl Harbor face the final deployment to Heaven's Navy, we ought to remember what heroes do, what heroes are.  Heroes are us, heroes are moments of clear action by people of integrity and honor.  Nothing will ever defeat heroes, nothing will ever denigrate heroes, nothing will take our heroes away.  Nothing except our disinterest and complacency.

If you did not know who John Finn was, please, look him up.  Even the Wikkipedia article is pretty close to accurate.  Find out about a man that I am proud to say wore the anchors before me, and left me a Mess to be part of, that was unparallelled in quality and honor.  He was a man among men and women, he was a hero.  He was the best the Navy produced, and left us all richer because  of his work and life.

December 7th means something to sailors and to the Navy.   I am asking you for something because of my service to this nation, and I do not ever trade on that honor and privilege lightly.  But, tomorrow, please take a moment and ask God for rest and peace for those still entombed in Pearl Harbor, in the ships that were not recovered.  Ask for rest and peace for those who spent days struggling to save lives there.   Ask for peace for the warriors that fought out from Pearl Harbor, and freed the world.  Ask that we remained blessed to have men and women like those still serving our nation today.

For, you see, we do.  We always will.  That is the undeniable essence of America.  And it is what has always and will always make us great, make us free, and make us the shining example to the world.   Those with hatred and idolatry and bigotry in their hearts will always disdain us, but they will never defeat us.  Men like John Finn, they are America, and why I love this nation.

GLYASDI

James 5:16

Therefore confess your sins to each other so that you may be healed.  The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.

If you want to be powerful and effective, there are three things that you have to address.  And, I like this verse because I think it lays it out in order, with clarity.  Many of the truths of the true faith are contained in these short verses packed with impact.

First, confess your sins.  If you are sinning against your spouse, your brother, your friend, your Lord, confess it.  Unsaid here is that you don't get to confess the same sin daily, and keep doing it.  None of us expect our spouse or our brother to put up with us doing the same thing daily, over and over, just because we said "I am sorry."  You aren't really sorry if you keep doing it.

God is no less realistic about it.  What we have, in terms of discernment, knowledge, wisdom, all flow from Him, so He clearly has the same feelings about sin that we do, magnified by infinity.  What He has that we do not is an endless grace that informs His mercy.  We can, and do, fail, time and again, and God still listens, still works in our life, still wants, still reaches and still forgives.  His capacity to overcome our faults is limitless and without cost, if we humble ourselves to ask, and seek.

So, you have to get right with God, first and foremost.  Because, if you are not living right with your spouse, or your brother, or your sister, or your coworker, or your boss, or your pastor, or your children, you are not living right with God first.  I won't list the 20 examples that come to mind, where it says in the Bible that sinning against someone is also sinning against God.  Find the right priority.

Fix yourself with God, then fix yourself with your family.  Search yourself and find where you should seek forgiveness, and where you should GIVE forgiveness.  Hard hearted, stubborn holding onto wrongs and slights only makes you weaker and less happy.  God counts them, you don't have to.  You can deal with it and move on.  Forgiveness is healing, and eliminates the sin, and wasted emotion of wrath.  There is a reason vengeance is reserved for the Lord.  It is exhausting and complex and messy.  Leave it to God and move on with something that is energizing and simple, like love.

That is what makes a righteous person, which is the second part.  Not an absence of sin, or a perfect life, but a life of respect and reverance of the Lord.  God does not expect or require perfection for righteousness.  Righteous persons do make mistakes, do have issues.  That is why it starts with confession.  Righteous persons are concerned as to whether they have done right by others and by God.  They examine theirselves, they genuinely regret their faults, and they do not back away from looking to see where they were wrong.  They expect to be wrong in places and situations, and are willing to accept it and work to remedy it.  Righteous means many things, but thankfully, it does not mean perfect, because that is Jesus' role solely.

Righteousness can feel like a burden, if it is carried inappropriately.  In combat, our soldiers carry upwards of 60% of their body weight in equipment and gear.  They do it effectively, because we have figured out how to stack it and pack it.  There is an appropriate way to carry weight, and being a righteous person is weighty.  If you are constantly weighing yourself against God's standard and spend all your time trying to figure out what was right and wrong, you will go crazy.  You will also have almost no friends or people in your life, because you are going to be a huge bummer to be around.

Carry the weight correctly.  In our case, that means give it to God.  Matthew 11:29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” 

I don't have a backpack that it all fits in.  That is what Jesus said, take his yoke, learn to let Him figure out how much to put on our backs.  That is how we find rest for our souls.  We were meant to run through fields of forever singing songs to our Savior and King.  Love that song, but it is just true.  We were not designed to be wheelbarrows full of shame and sorrow.  I don't blame God for not wanting to have that around for eternity.  Let it go now, and practice for what heaven will be like.

Then third, and most importantly, we have to pray.  God does not need any help from us, nor does He need us to inform Him of anything.  What He does want is us to commune with Him.  Commune is the root from which communicate comes.  In my simple definition, that is what prayer is, communion with God.  If we open our heart, if we bare our soul, we get to where God wants us.  In those moments, there is no doubt as to what to pray for, there is no point of pain to worry over, there is no weakness to overcome.  

I think sometimes that my life is just living out song lyrics that speak to me.  From the song Me and God, "Early in the morning, talking it over, me and God.  Late at night, talking it over, me and God.  You could say we're like two peas in a pod, me and God."  I don't know what font conveys the voice Josh Turner sings that in, but it has always just spoken to me.  And, that is how I see my relationship with God.

That is why I see my faith as such a personal and internal mechanism first.  I can't get it right toward everyone else, till I get it right toward God.  And once I get it right toward God, I have such a head start on getting it right with everyone else.  Prayer is talking it over with God.  It can be the Act of Contrition, or the Lord's Prayer, or the Serenity Prayer.  Those are all fine, and very meaningful.  But, it can just be that anguished, inarticulate WHY? that you spit out because you have no strength for anything else.  It can be that joyous THANK YOU! that you scream because you have no words for anything else.  It can be that whispered HELP... because you have no courage for any more.

If you seek Him, He will meet you where you are.  And, that point where you come together is powerful and effective.  The entire world has been changed and moved because of those moments, in ways great and small.  Imagine where we would be if we made that our habit.  There is no greater improvement you can make on the world, than to pray consistently and effectively over something.  There is no greater improvement you can make on yourself, than to pray consistently and effectively over the right things.

That is what woke me up this morning, following a terrible dream.  I just had this sense that God was just there.  It went from that cold drenching terror moment that dreams can provide, to that complete calm and peaceful feeling I recognize as God.  It was instantaneous.  That is what I talked over with God early this morning.  Two peas in a pod, I pray for that.  That is where I want to be.

Hope that is where you are.

GLYASDI