I know it's been a while since I posted, and now I'm posting from the Newark airport to tell you that I am going out of town and that it may be a while before I can post again. I am headed over to Scotland on a mission trip with my church. We will be putting on a summer camp for about 40 middle- and high-school age kids for a church that we have developed a relationship with. Pray that I have the energy to keep up with the youngsters on our team and at the camp. I can remember being that age, but it feels like a really long time ago.
I will try to get on here -- wireless connection permitting -- to post some updates about my perspective of the trip. However, if you want to catch up with how the team is doing, you can go the Scotland Team blog throughout the next 2 weeks to see how we are getting along.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Friday, June 6, 2008
Day of Days
64 years ago today thousands of U.S. soldiers descended on Normandy and the surrounding beaches in the name of freedom. We should always remember those soldiers -- today especially.
Here is a glimpse of what those first moments were like for a group from Easy Company in the 101st Airborne Division. These guys trained in Toccoa, Georgia before leaving for England.
Here is a glimpse of what those first moments were like for a group from Easy Company in the 101st Airborne Division. These guys trained in Toccoa, Georgia before leaving for England.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Celebrating 15 years . . . in Los Angeles
Jen and I were married fifteen years ago this month. To celebrate, I thought it was important to do something special. I mean, she's special. She's even more special for putting up with me for the past fifteen years through two graduate programs -- in completely different fields -- and the debt that comes with such (perhaps ill-guided) decisions. So in December, I contacted Jen's college roommate about the idea of using this occasion to surprise Jen with a trip to L.A. to visit her since they hadn't seen each other since the move to L.A. about a year ago.
First, I had to secure the services of someone to watch Keegan. No offense to the little guy, but mom and dad need some mom and dad time if you know what I mean. And K-Man doesn't fit that plan. So I clandestinely contacted Jen's parents about watching Kee. They agreed. Then I had to pick a date. I tried to get it planned around our anniversary date, but my sister had the audacity to schedule her nuptials for the weekend that fit that. No problem. I'm flexible. I found another weekend that fit. And made sure that worked for our friends in sunny Californ-I-A. It did. Plan moves forward.
On Valentine's Day, I told Jen that I had a trip planned for our anniversary. I told her I'd reserved a place at Amelia Island. (Why Amelia Island? Because I knew there was no way that I could pack secretly for Jen. So I told her a beach location that she could pack clothes that worked for L.A. too.) I also told her that she couldn't go online to search out stuff to do and start researching the area; I would plan everything for us. She agreed. I told her that her parents had agreed to watch K-Man while we were gone too.
Then we just had to wait 3 freaking long months. In that time, we had a family emergency with Jen's grandmother and there was a question of whether our babysitting arrangements would hold. But they did.
Finally, the day arrived. We left for the airport yesterday morning. We got in line at the check-in kiosk at the airport. I upgraded us to first class (because I knew how long the flight was going to be and the option was there). Jen didn't notice the kiosk screen's indication of the arrival site of our flight. Then we got in line to check our bags. The guy took the printed tags and wrapped them around our bags. Jen noticed the "LAX" on the tags and said "those say LAX on them."
"I know," I replied.
Nothing.
We walked on to security. I handed Jen her boarding pass -- which prominently displays "Los Angeles, CA" on it. But we passed through security without any cavity checks and without Jen bothering to read her boarding pass.
On the train, I tell Jen that I upgraded to first class. Jen says "I wish the flight was 5 hours long to enjoy that."
"I bet you do."
We get to the gate. Still Jen is oblivious. I make a point of looking at the gate board and saying, "looks like we're supposed to leave at 9:25." "OK" Jen says without looking up to see where this 9:25 flight is going.
As we are sitting waiting for the flight, Jen says "so are we flying into Jacksonville?"
(I realize this probably is going to be my only chance to finally spring this surprise on her.)
"No" and I hand her the boarding pass . . . again.
After a few seconds, it registers what she's reading.
And all of the effort to get to that look on her face was worth all the wait.
First, I had to secure the services of someone to watch Keegan. No offense to the little guy, but mom and dad need some mom and dad time if you know what I mean. And K-Man doesn't fit that plan. So I clandestinely contacted Jen's parents about watching Kee. They agreed. Then I had to pick a date. I tried to get it planned around our anniversary date, but my sister had the audacity to schedule her nuptials for the weekend that fit that. No problem. I'm flexible. I found another weekend that fit. And made sure that worked for our friends in sunny Californ-I-A. It did. Plan moves forward.
On Valentine's Day, I told Jen that I had a trip planned for our anniversary. I told her I'd reserved a place at Amelia Island. (Why Amelia Island? Because I knew there was no way that I could pack secretly for Jen. So I told her a beach location that she could pack clothes that worked for L.A. too.) I also told her that she couldn't go online to search out stuff to do and start researching the area; I would plan everything for us. She agreed. I told her that her parents had agreed to watch K-Man while we were gone too.
Then we just had to wait 3 freaking long months. In that time, we had a family emergency with Jen's grandmother and there was a question of whether our babysitting arrangements would hold. But they did.
Finally, the day arrived. We left for the airport yesterday morning. We got in line at the check-in kiosk at the airport. I upgraded us to first class (because I knew how long the flight was going to be and the option was there). Jen didn't notice the kiosk screen's indication of the arrival site of our flight. Then we got in line to check our bags. The guy took the printed tags and wrapped them around our bags. Jen noticed the "LAX" on the tags and said "those say LAX on them."
"I know," I replied.
Nothing.
We walked on to security. I handed Jen her boarding pass -- which prominently displays "Los Angeles, CA" on it. But we passed through security without any cavity checks and without Jen bothering to read her boarding pass.
On the train, I tell Jen that I upgraded to first class. Jen says "I wish the flight was 5 hours long to enjoy that."
"I bet you do."
We get to the gate. Still Jen is oblivious. I make a point of looking at the gate board and saying, "looks like we're supposed to leave at 9:25." "OK" Jen says without looking up to see where this 9:25 flight is going.
As we are sitting waiting for the flight, Jen says "so are we flying into Jacksonville?"
(I realize this probably is going to be my only chance to finally spring this surprise on her.)
"No" and I hand her the boarding pass . . . again.
After a few seconds, it registers what she's reading.
And all of the effort to get to that look on her face was worth all the wait.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Row, Row, Row Your Boat
As promised, here are the song stylings of K-Man! This will make your heart smile.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Catching up with K-Man
Keegan is growing like a weed. He no longer resembles the baby he once was. His legs seem to get longer and leaner every day. We walked up to the Jonquil Festival today with Kee in the stroller, and his legs were practically hanging off the front. Thursday night Kee's school had an art show, and we were treated to Kee's interpretation of a pig and a pumpkin. Clearly, he is not wedded to the realism of Winslow Homer. But his enthusiasm comes through nonetheless.
K-man's athletic interests continue. He bounces from the basketball hoop to the tee-ball set and back again. Jen's parents were in town this week and picked up a small soccer ball for him too, so we'll be able to work on some kicking too.
Keegan has also treated us with a tune. His song of choice? Row, Row, Row Your Boat. It's priceless. (We'll have to get video of that to share.)
We do have video of Keegan at the keyboard. He enjoys when Jen plays ragtime pieces, but he also gets on the keys and works on his finger technique all the time. See for yourself.
K-man's athletic interests continue. He bounces from the basketball hoop to the tee-ball set and back again. Jen's parents were in town this week and picked up a small soccer ball for him too, so we'll be able to work on some kicking too.
Keegan has also treated us with a tune. His song of choice? Row, Row, Row Your Boat. It's priceless. (We'll have to get video of that to share.)
We do have video of Keegan at the keyboard. He enjoys when Jen plays ragtime pieces, but he also gets on the keys and works on his finger technique all the time. See for yourself.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Memories
Do you ever wonder why you remember some things -- even the most seemingly insignificant tedium -- and fail to recall details of the more momentous occasions? Perhaps the seemingly insignificant is really the momentous.
My earliest memories date back to living in married housing at UF when my Dad was finishing his undergrad and graduate degrees (right across the street from the law school I would attend some 23 years later -- cue the theme from The Twilight Zone). My first memory is looking at myself in the mirror in my room at our UF apartment and realizing that was "me" in the reflection. Could that be more narcissistic?
I can also remember one of the first days I wore underpants. (This one is pretty significant.) I recall getting some instructions before I went out to play -- something along the lines of "if you have to go to the bathroom, come home and go and then you can go back outside." Later, I was playing at the playground with a bunch of other kids. I could sense the need to excuse myself and take care of my business the way "big boys" do, but come on people, I was playing at the playground, and I was two and a half (or 3 - I don't actually recall). So as you may imagine, after it was too late, I realized that there were a few extra ounces in my shorts. Off I ran, turd in tow! I was beside myself with terror. Afraid what my mom was going to do to me for soiling my shorts after her very clear and reasonable directions. Why didn't I just go home when I felt the first sphincter twitch? When I reached the apartment, I am sure I was a weeping mess with a fecal jiggle in my pants. Despite my worst fears, my mom showed me mercy and simply cleaned me up, gave me some new briefs and sent me back out there. (I have no doubt that this episode is the seed of my anal retentive personality. Shut up.) Jen can attest that my response to that situation is typical of my response to mercy even now. I don't appreciate the mercy; I much prefer to beat myself up for doing whatever I did to get myself in the situation from which mercy rescued me. (How warped is that?)
Another memory of mine is from playing little league when I was 8. It's sort of two memories really. I can only recall one at-bat from all of the games that I played that season. It was a double that I hit to right-centerfield. What I remember is how true I hit the ball. I caught it right in the sweet spot. The bat was a wood bat my Dad bought for me at Sears. At the time, Sears sold bats marketed by Ted Williams (then, his head was still attached). This was a 26-inch model that was painted kelly green. I remember that we won the game, but the score evades me. And I recall that I was awarded the game ball that day. The other part of my memories of that first little league season is stealing the sign that the coach of the Dodgers team was using to tell his kids to steal. As a catcher, that came in handy. (NOTE to any would-be coaches reading this. When an 8-year-old can steal your sign, you need to put more effort in disguising your intentions.) He did the same thing every time, he took his hat off and wiped his forehead. If I didn't have an 8-year-old arm with the accompanying accuracy (or lack thereof), my discovery would have been much more helpful.
These memories say something about who I am. If you can figure that out, please let me know, so I can benefit from your insight!
My earliest memories date back to living in married housing at UF when my Dad was finishing his undergrad and graduate degrees (right across the street from the law school I would attend some 23 years later -- cue the theme from The Twilight Zone). My first memory is looking at myself in the mirror in my room at our UF apartment and realizing that was "me" in the reflection. Could that be more narcissistic?
I can also remember one of the first days I wore underpants. (This one is pretty significant.) I recall getting some instructions before I went out to play -- something along the lines of "if you have to go to the bathroom, come home and go and then you can go back outside." Later, I was playing at the playground with a bunch of other kids. I could sense the need to excuse myself and take care of my business the way "big boys" do, but come on people, I was playing at the playground, and I was two and a half (or 3 - I don't actually recall). So as you may imagine, after it was too late, I realized that there were a few extra ounces in my shorts. Off I ran, turd in tow! I was beside myself with terror. Afraid what my mom was going to do to me for soiling my shorts after her very clear and reasonable directions. Why didn't I just go home when I felt the first sphincter twitch? When I reached the apartment, I am sure I was a weeping mess with a fecal jiggle in my pants. Despite my worst fears, my mom showed me mercy and simply cleaned me up, gave me some new briefs and sent me back out there. (I have no doubt that this episode is the seed of my anal retentive personality. Shut up.) Jen can attest that my response to that situation is typical of my response to mercy even now. I don't appreciate the mercy; I much prefer to beat myself up for doing whatever I did to get myself in the situation from which mercy rescued me. (How warped is that?)
Another memory of mine is from playing little league when I was 8. It's sort of two memories really. I can only recall one at-bat from all of the games that I played that season. It was a double that I hit to right-centerfield. What I remember is how true I hit the ball. I caught it right in the sweet spot. The bat was a wood bat my Dad bought for me at Sears. At the time, Sears sold bats marketed by Ted Williams (then, his head was still attached). This was a 26-inch model that was painted kelly green. I remember that we won the game, but the score evades me. And I recall that I was awarded the game ball that day. The other part of my memories of that first little league season is stealing the sign that the coach of the Dodgers team was using to tell his kids to steal. As a catcher, that came in handy. (NOTE to any would-be coaches reading this. When an 8-year-old can steal your sign, you need to put more effort in disguising your intentions.) He did the same thing every time, he took his hat off and wiped his forehead. If I didn't have an 8-year-old arm with the accompanying accuracy (or lack thereof), my discovery would have been much more helpful.
These memories say something about who I am. If you can figure that out, please let me know, so I can benefit from your insight!
Monday, March 17, 2008
Love
Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?
He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.
We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.
He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.
By oppression and judgment he was taken away. And who can speak of his descendants? For he was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgression of my people he was stricken.
He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death, though he had done no violence, nor was any deceit in his mouth.
Yet it was the LORD's will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the LORD makes his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand.
After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities.
Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.
Isaiah 53
If you ever wonder if you are worthy of God's love, know that he did this while we were/are all yet sinners. That is love. You are loved. May that revelation be real for you this week -- of all weeks.
He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.
We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.
He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.
By oppression and judgment he was taken away. And who can speak of his descendants? For he was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgression of my people he was stricken.
He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death, though he had done no violence, nor was any deceit in his mouth.
Yet it was the LORD's will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the LORD makes his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand.
After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities.
Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.
Isaiah 53
If you ever wonder if you are worthy of God's love, know that he did this while we were/are all yet sinners. That is love. You are loved. May that revelation be real for you this week -- of all weeks.
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