Dave's Random Ramblings

Documenting the Journey

2011-12-01T11:49:00.000-08:00

I’ve decided that writing is kind of like eating. Twitter reminds me grabbing a piece of toast as you run out the door – it’s really fast and easy when you’re on the run, but doesn’t really fill you up. Facebook posts are like eating at McDonalds. There’s a little more substance there, you know in your heart that it’s not good for you, but it is pretty quick and easy, and when your life is moving fast, you can survive on it. Writing in a blog for me is more like a really good home cooked meal. It’s more planned out. It is normally pretty nutritionally good for you. Most of all, it takes time to prepare, and time to digest.

It’s the whole “slow-food-vs-fast-food” idea. So much of life is a blur – so many commitments, so little time. Communication is limited to those 140 character tweets, or the slightly more generous 420 characters that Facebook allows in their posts. The absolutely wonderful thing about writing in a blog is the absence of limits. I can put down the thoughts as they flow, and not worry about having to drastically edit my words to meet the limitations of social media. It’s a clean kitchen with full cupboards, refrigerator and freezer – let the cooking begin!

It’s been 21 months since I last posted anything in my blog. Where did all of that time go? I look back and see what life was like then compared to now. So many changes in a what seems like a short period of my life. My son had just moved out a few months before, and I was experiencing the weirdness that comes from having one of your own leave the nest. I’m happy to see that he’s doing well on his own. Since that time, our oldest daughter has followed suit, leaving us with a foursome here at home. Ginger went back to work for a time, and is now back at home. Kai went from being homeschooled, switched back to the Co-op school for a year, then when it shut down, he started high school at Alliance Charter Academy in Oregon City. Carolyn continues to go to school and babysit. Kind of normal transitions in life, you might say. But then, a year ago I went through a big one; the kind of change that forces one to reevaluate everything in their life.

On November 25th, 2010. I was fired from a job that I held for 29 years. Even typing that sentence brings a hint of discomfort. There are so many feelings that come with that statement. Guilt over screwing up. Frustration with myself for not following my values (Romans 7:15 definitely applies here!). Shame in facing my former co-workers. Anger with myself in losing a job that provided very well for my family. In 29 years, you build up some pretty decent benefits; all gone.

First, let me explain. As manager of a large retail store, I was responsible for a multitude of things, many involving paperwork. The standard joke was always that we were expected to be able to juggle fifteen balls, but could only reasonably juggle twelve, so you had to pick which ones were mot crucial, and do the best you could with the rest. Unfortunately, as we approached the very busy holiday season, I chose to put down one of the balls, and sign off that it had been completed. My choice cost me my career.

The purpose of this post is not to relive the past; it is more of a “State Of The Dave” report; where has that fateful decision left me, just one year later? What have I learned from this experience? I think it’s crucial to take the time to document the experience. As George Santayana said in his book Reason in Common Sense, "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it". I did attempt to do my best on Facebook to convey the journey, but once again, 420 characters doesn’t cover it…

"It was a year ago today that I had a major shakeup in my life. This past year has shown me very clearly just how much I have to be thankful for! God loves me in spite of my faults and failures, and sent his son to pay the price for them. That should be enough, but he's also given me an AMAZING wife...loving kids...great extended family and church family...a new job where I love what I do and feel appreciated every day. I am so blessed, and very thankful today and every day."

So, back to the original question – what have I learned from my experience? The next few blog posts will attempt to cover the last year – the journey through pain and grief; the lessons learned, and the things that I want to never forget. Feel free to follow along or not as you see fit.

I Cannot Do This Alone

2010-03-02T20:20:00.000-08:00

My small group at church is using the Mosaic Bible as a study guide each week. Along with the New Living Translation of the Bible, the Mosaic Bible contains weekly bible readings, devotionals and artwork from a variety of sources and eras, all based around the church calendar. This week’s readings are a part of the Lent season, and focused on our dependence on God. One of the readings was written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and could be best categorized as a perfect snapshot of where I am right now. I read it once, then twice, and again and again. I know that the trials in my life are nothing compared to what he went through, but I can definitely feel the cares of the day getting in the way of my relationship with God. I need to remember that as he said, I cannot do it alone.

I Cannot Do This Alone

O God, early in the morning I cry to you.
Help me to pray
And to concentrate my thoughts on you:
I cannot do this alone.

In me there is darkness,
But with you there is light;
I am lonely, but you do not leave me;
I am feeble in heart, but with you there is help;
I am restless, but with you there is peace.
In me there is bitterness, but with you there is patience;
I do not understand your ways,
But you know the way for me…

Restore me to liberty,
And enable me to live now
That I may answer before you and before me.
Lord, whatever this day may bring,
Your name be praised.

A Life That Is Not My Own

2010-03-02T19:52:00.000-08:00

It’s been said that you can’t really understand a love song until you fall in love. Then, as if a filter has been lifted, you suddenly feel all of the emotions in each song, and find yourself singing along. I think that’s true with any song that characterizes a particular period in your life. You don’t have a real understanding until you’ve been through it.

We’ve entered a new phase in the Clausen household, as our oldest son has moved out on his own. Fortunately, we are on good terms, and we continue to see him occasionally. However, part of that new phase is the start of the empty nest syndrome. It’s odd to have someone who has been part of your household for 20 years suddenly no longer a part of that daily life. It is not easy to explain. However, like love, sometimes a song suns it up best. Bob Bennett has always been a favorite artist of mine; an amazing guitarist and skillful songwriter. I’ve always liked this song, but now that the emotions he was feeling when he wrote it, it takes on an even greater meaning.

A LIFE THAT IS NOT MY OWN
Bob Bennett
© 2001 Bright Avenue Songs (ASCAP)

This is my Father's world
I trust these days are in His plan
I am my Father's child
He holds my life in loving hand
I cry out loud, He shares my tears
I'm so afraid, He calms my fears
O Lord, I offer up these many years
Of a life that is not my own

This child is a gift to me
Though he must grow away, apart
I never knew that God and I
Could share a tender father's heart
And when the distance is too hard to bear
When it's so painful to love and to care
May I be grateful for the time that I could share
In a life that is not my own
A life that is not my own

We will sleep under the same moon tonight
We will walk under the same sun tomorrow
Someday to gather in our one true home
Where no goodbyes can cause this kind of sorrow

This is my Father's world
With all the questions it can bring
I am my Father's child
Though I am broken, I can sing
Of all the things that He has done
A Father offering up His Son
And a life like mine that has become
A life that is not my own

It's only stuff...

2009-10-24T20:25:00.000-07:00

My wife and I went out on a date today. When we left, we still weren't quite sure where we were headed, so we pulled into the parking lot at the local high school, which is just a block down the the street from our house. As we sat and talked, I noticed that the house next to the parking lot was having a garage sale. I didn't think much of it...it was a fairly warm sunny day, a great day to clean out unwanted items. I watched as two men rolled out a large red stacking tool box and loaded it into their truck. Wow, you don't see those at garage sales too often, I thought. Then it dawned on me which house was having the sale. This house had been rocked by tragedy just a few months before. In what was termed a murder/suicide attempt, A husband shot his wife before turning the gun on himself. Fortunately, the wife survived the attempt, and was able to call for help. I didn't know the couple, although they lived just a few houses away. Close neighbors had good things to say about the man - a good neighbor, helpful, no sign of troubles. And yet here I sat, watching as what was left of his worldly possessions was carted away by bargain hunting shoppers. It was kind of a unreal moment - lots of things running through my mind. What wil be left when my life ends? I can't say that there's a lot of loot to pass on. And yet, my stuff is not who I am. It's just stuff. If anything, as we drove away, I felt the renewed idea that I should be focused on laying up treasures in heaven, and that the only thing I can leave here is memories.

Analogies

2009-09-27T12:52:00.000-07:00

In life, sometimes we use analogies to paint a better picture of what we are describing. Sometimes though, an analogy can lose a little in the translation.

I heard one example of this from our church’s youth pastor, Daniel Meadows. He mentioned that one of his favorite songs was Todd Agnew’s ”Grace Like Rain”. He said that in Portland, we never could really appreciate the song because our usual Portland rain varies from an irritating mist to a light drizzle that goes on for hours and hours. You could get from your house to your car and stay fairly dry, since the rain was so light. However, the previous day, we had a rainstorm that was unique for our area. It was as if the skies had opened up and let loose everything they held. No wind, no lightning – just a solid, steady, heavy downpour that sent rivers of water racing down the street. There was no way you could set foot outside of the house without feeling the water drench you. Daniel said that this storm was a little more like the ones he had grown up in the Midwest. With that experience, the phrase “Grace Like Rain” took on a different meaning; it describes the grace of God as something you cannot avoid, something that covers you fully. His description brought that analogy to life for me in a whole new way.

I had a new realization of an analogy used by God himself while vacationing this week in Central Oregon. We were camping at Prineville Reservoir for a couple of days. As we arrived in Prineville, we noticed that the moon was going to be setting not long after the sun, leaving the skies dark. Living in a major metropolitan city of over a million people, the light from the city hides the view of all but the brightest stars. We looked forward to being able to see a much bigger picture of God’s creation once the sun went down.

Later that night, we were rewarded with one of the most amazing night skies I had ever seen. I tried to come up with a guess of how many stars I could see plainly enough to count, but it was simply too much for the mind to conjure up. Add to that the mist of white scattered across the sky – the stars that are too small to count, but together make up the Milky Way. My family and I stood outside, just staring up at the sky in amazement.

It was then that I recalled Genesis 22:17-18, where God promises Abraham, “I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will take possession of the cities of their enemies, and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me." Now, if Abraham were living in Portland, that might not have made such a huge impression on him. When the clouds aren’t covering the sky, we might be lucky to see a dozen or two stars. Back in his day, there was no light pollution to filter God’s promise through. When God spoke, Abraham could look up and see that same sky filled with millions of stars. If I were him, the thought of being the patriarch for millions might be a tad bit intimidating. Seeing the night sky through his eyes reminded me of God’s love and faithfulness, and that God’s promises are true, even when we can’t see the whole picture.

Thanksgiving in June

2009-06-29T19:16:00.000-07:00

When you work in retail, you find that it doesn't take a holiday to come up with a reason for a big sale. It seems that every week, there's a new advertising push that urges you to celebrate an event, and that your celebration would not be complete without doing some shopping. One of the odder events I've seen is "Christmas in July". I guess there are people out there that really do plan that far in advance and start their shopping/crafting/planning that early, but I have a hard time thinking about Christmas when the sun is shining, the air conditioner is running, and cooking dinner consists of firing up the BBQ.

Lately my thoughts have turned to a different holiday - Thanksgiving. We always say that we should be thankful every day, but I rarely think about it unless the smell of turkey is in the air. However, the events of the last few weeks have put me in a very thankful mood. If the stores can celebrate Christmas in July, then I can celebrate Thanksgiving in June.

My wife and I have three sets of friends who are going through very difficult problems in their marriage, with one definitely headed for divorce.

We have quite a few friends who have lost their jobs or had them cut back drastically.

Another family we know is reeling from the suicide of a brother and uncle to the kids.

A friend of my wife has been caring for her terminally ill husband for a number of months, and has now just found out that she has been diagnosed with leukemia.

Today, I watched as two co-workers performed CPR on a fellow employee, not knowing whether he would survive.

In each of these cases, it's easy to pull out the well-worn phrase "there but for the grace of God go I". And trust me - I know that my life can change in a heartbeat. I know that life can be a like a canoe trip; right now, we're in a calmly flowing river admiring the scenery, but at any moment the class four rapids may come. However, at this juncture of my life, I just can't shake the feeling of thankfulness.

My wife is an amazing woman who I love very much, and even more amazing - she loves me too! While our marriage is not perfect, we can paddle through the rapids together as a team, and come out on the other side with the love still intact. That is a true blessing from God.

My work has continued to do well - even in a tough economy, people have to eat.

My family is all in reasonably good health.

I am alive today, and can enjoy the beautiful weather, conversation with my wife, and playing with the kids.

Again, I know that I have done nothing to deserve my good fortune, just as those who are dealing with difficult circumstances have not always been the cause of their struggles. I do know that whatever blessings I am enjoying today, it is because of God's grace and provision, and for that, I am very thankful.

Now I just need to see if we have any leftover turkey in the freezer.

Happy Father's Day

2009-06-23T22:44:00.000-07:00

Another Father's Day has come and gone. Like any other Sunday where Fred Meyer doesn't claim me, I spend the morning at church. Most of these Sundays find me joining with the music team on stage, playing trumpet or percussion as a part of leading the congregation in worship through music. As I always say, it's a great priviledge to take a gift that God has given that I love to do and turn it back to him! This Sunday, my son Joe joined us on stage with his guitar. I think it's only the second time we've been on the team together, and the first time in a long time. He has been playing for a few years, and was able to join in with no problem.

When I'm playing, I'm usually focused on the music - watching the leader, glancing at the music, and trying to sing along and keep the percussion going at the same time. As we played and worshipped that morning, I found myself stealing an occasional glance over at Joe. He was doing the same as I was, focused on doing his best for the Lord.

Later on during the sermon, the topic of fathers and Father's Day came up, and my mind drifted back to the music. I thought of how proud I was of Joe; for the skills he was using in praising God, and the joy of playing together as a team. At that point, it struck me: Are there times when God looks over at me, and is proud of his child? Times when he looks down and says, "That's my boy!"?

On a day when we honor fathers, I left church with an even stronger desire to please my heavenly Father. I know that when it comes to being a good kid, I fail in many ways, and that it's only through the sacrifice of his Son that we have a relationship with him. I think the best fathers' day present I can give Him is to give him the opportunity to glance my way and say, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant!". Or, to put it in simpler terms, "That's my boy!"

"I'm not half the man I used to be..."

2009-03-26T22:21:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've posted anything...I guess I'll just add the usual excuse of no time! It's not a very exciting excuse, but pretty true for the most part. My computer is dead in the water right now, so I'm using my son's laptop - Thanks Joe!

The title for this entry kind of sums up my life right now. My wonderful wife is currently in Peru, visiting a missionary friend of ours. From her e-mails, I can tell she is enjoying her time there, but is getting more tired and ready to come home. She's been gone for 8 days now, with one more week to go. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Fortunately, I haven't had to many opportunities to test that hypothesis! This time apart truly does remind me how much a part of me she is. Without a doubt, she is by best friend, my soul mate, my true north, my better half - and yes, she really does complete me. She reminds me that when God created Adam, it was the first time he created something where the Bible doesn't follow by saying "and it was good". Instead, it says that God decided that it was NOT good for man to be alone, so he created a woman.

Before Ginger left, we were watching a movie that contained many famous quotes. From there, we started talking about famous quotes about love. Here's some of my favorites...these aren't all from movies - some are songs, others quotes from other famous people..

"If love for you were a country, I'd be China" - paraphrased from City Slickers

"I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more, just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door" - The Proclaimers (and Steven Curtis Chapman)

"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because your reality is better than your dreams" - Dr. Seuss

"Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs...what's wrong with that?" - Paul McCartney

"The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother" - Theodore Hesbergh

"Happy Wife...Happy Life" - Jeff Allen (OK, it's not so much about love, but if you're married, it can be valuable advice!

"We will sleep under the same moon tonight...we will walk under the same sun tomorrow" - Bob Bennett

OK - it's late..time to head for bed....goodnight, honey!

"

Musical Memories

2009-01-30T00:04:00.001-08:00

Those who know me outside of work know of my love for music. I grew up in a home where music was all around me every day. I grew up in a baptist church where the singing of hymns was a weekly highlight. Starting in seventh grade, I finally picked up a trumpet, and my life has never been the same. Don't get me wrong - I will never make a living playing music. I love playing at church every chance I get, and still sing (or drum) along with the radio as I drive to work in the morning. However, I'm not like an American Idol wannabe that has dreams of grandeur - I know my limits, and just love to play!

For some reason this week, I've been thinking about the musical highlights in my life. Not all involve my playing; they're just moments in my life where I felt an amazing connection to the music. In writing these out, I am not trying to weave a fascinating tale or share a great story. It's more about me putting my thoughts down on paper (or on screen, as it were). It is by no means an all inclusive list; I'm sure as time goes on, I'll add to it.

Here's a start...

There are a few Conservative Baptist Churches in the Portland Area. When I was in grade school, 3-4 of the churches would arrange an "all-church sing". One church would host the others for a combined Sunday evening service, and spend the entire evening singing. Take a church like Hinson Baptist, which probably holds anywhere from 500-750 people, and pack it full. Add old hymns - you know the ones - Wonderful Grace of Jesus, Leaning on the Everlasting Arms, To God Be The Glory; mix them all in full four part harmony. The sound was amazing - full and rich - enough to make you stop singing and just listen. They don't write them (or sing them) like that anymore!

Organ Grinder - Simply described, a fair to middling pizza joint built around a massive pipe organ. You've never heard the theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey until you've heard it on a hot Friday night with a mouthful of pizza. I seem to remember someone saying that they had some sort of permit to exceed the noise ordinances on Friday nights - by the time the song reached its' peak, everything not nailed down in that place was shaking, including your internal organs. Alas, the restaurant no longer exists, and the mighty Wurlitzer Organ now has been parted out.

Let me start this entry by saying the sacrilegious; I really hated marching band. There's something about trying to play a musical instrument while taking a five mile hike that never really set well with me. One thing I loved though was the indoor music practices. In Jr. High, students were split into four bands, in high school, two bands. Each band had their own music they played, and the separate bands never joined - except in marching band. I always loved the first few practices where we stayed in the band room to work out the music. There was something about switching from a small concert band of 20-30 people to a huge group of over 100. Just the sheer volume - the power when the low brass kicked in, the drum line causing your heart to skip a beat, how full the woodwinds sounded. It just took everything I loved about playing trumpet and brought it to a new level.

If you never were able to see Rich Mullins in concert, you missed a lot. The music may have not been as polished as you'd hear on a CD, but the conversations between songs were amazing. He could go on for 10 minutes about something, but you didn't mind. He would stand there in his bare feet, talking politics, the church, the music industry, whatever - just sharing his passion for God. And musically, every time I read or hear James 2:20, saying that "faith without works in dead", I picture Rich singing "Screendoor on a Submarine" acapella in four part harmony with the band, accompanied by the rhythm of the five of them playing percussion with big plastic cups. Check it out on You-Tube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lZzp1u1PDQ

Spyro Gyra was one of my favorite jazz groups in the early 80's - I saw them at the Mt. Hood Festival of Jazz in 1983. I recall at one point that the percussionist wanted to make some noise, so instead of picking up one particular piece of percussion, he simply picked up the rack from which all of his percussion instruments were hanging and shook the whole rack. Wow.

Maynard Ferguson is in my top 5 favorite trumpet players of all time. He is not the most technically correct of the horn payers, but he could play in the upper register with such ease and power. That, and he always surrounded himself with a band that killed! I saw him in concert twice - in '83 and '85. One piece he played often was The Beatles "Hey Jude". At the end of the song where the lyrics are simply, "nah, nah, nah, na-na-na-nah, na-na-na-nah, Hey Jude", the trumpet section would leave the stage and spread out through the audience while the rest of the band carried the tune on stage. Once positioned, they would join in - all playing that melody live, but at a range I have only wished to approach. I had Maynard's lead player Stan Mark standing directly behind my seat, legs braced, leaning back, and just nailing it. I couldn't hear right for a week, but boy, was it worth it. Sadly, Maynard passed on a couple of years ago, but he has left behind a legacy of horn players that carry on that same energy today.

That's probably enough for now - I'm sure more will come to mind.

Green Fruit

2009-01-29T23:30:00.000-08:00

My last post focused on wanting to work on my "Fruits of the Spirit". Yes, I know that the intent of the verse is that as my walk with God grows stronger, these fruits will become more and more evident. However, I don't think it's a bad thing to pick a fruit (no pun intended) and focus on putting that trait into every aspect of my life.

Last week was love. Sounds fairly easy, doesn't it? I made an effort to focus more on my wife this week, as well as spending more time talking to the kids and hugging them. In doing that, I realized that it takes a minimal effort to show love to someone that we really do love. Yes, there are times where either the wife or the kids may get on my nerves, but there's a core love there that never goes away, no matter what. The effort this week came in working through those times of irritation without them losing sight of the fact that they are loved. It was a part of my week that made me think a few times, but never really seemed altogether difficult.

The challenge really lies in showing love to those for you are not particularly attached to. My life outside of the home primarily revolves around my work. In my job, I supervise 60+ people. Some I interact with on a daily basis, others I may see only once or twice a week. In retail, there is always more to be done than time to do it in, so the stress level can be high at times. Add to that a steady stream of customers, and it can easily lead to a crankiness that flows over all like a fog. I thought of that first fruit - love - as I went through my week. I tried to focus on listening more and talking less; on being compassionate as they shared their concerns; and reacting to their needs promptly. I'd love to be able to give a glowing report of how I changed my world for the better, but I found my self groaning afterwards as I handled yet another situation with less than a loving attitude. I found that there is a special skill and effort needed in loving those you do not have that emotional attachment to, and that I will need to continue to work on it!

It does make me grateful that "..God put his love on the line for us by offering his Son in sacrificial death while we were of no use whatever to him." (Romans 5:8, The Message). He had no reason to love us, and yet He still gave up his son for us. I have done nothing to deserve His love for me, and nothing to deserve the sacrifice He made for me. And yet, in love He gave of Himself. As Max Lucado has said, no wonder they call Him the Savior.

This week: JOY!

Thoughts While Waking Up

2009-01-20T22:06:00.000-08:00

It seems that I do a lot of my best thinking in that small window of time between waking up and getting up. I’m not really sure why that is. I think that God uses that time to speak, because my brain is not engaged enough to interfere with what he’s saying. The other night, I was stressing about the normal trials of life, and as I drifted off to sleep, I prayed for God’s guidance in getting through the week. The next morning, as I shut off the alarm and laid there trying to regain consciousness, a couple of thoughts came to mind.

It started with the Fruits of the Spirit. I think it must have been a song running through my head...love, joy, peace patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness faithfulness and self control…no real rhyme or reason to it – just the song playing on.

Then I thought of with Benjamin Franklin – a very strange segue indeed. I remember learning that at age twenty, he came up with a list of thirteen virtues. They included Temperance, Silence, Order, Resolution, Frugality, Industry, Sincerity, Justice, Moderation, Cleanliness, Tranquility, Chastity and Humility. Franklin spent the rest of his life working to embrace them, focusing on one particular trait each week.

The thought then came to me; what would my life be like if I chose to work on living the Fruits of the Spirit? What if I spent a week focusing on just loving people? What would that look like? How would I practice Gentleness? Faithfulness? As my eyes finally opened and I began to greet the day, I decided to spend this week doing just that. Love people. Love them when I feel crabby. Love them when I feel frustrated. Love them when things are going great. Love them when life gets overwhelming. There’s no scorecard, no tally sheet. Fortunately, we serve a God of grace, who knows that we are imperfect vessels at best. I don’t assume to solve the mysteries of life by doing this, but if it brings growth and a closer walk with God, it’s a great thing. How will this go? Time will tell…

God, Amy Grant and Me

2009-01-08T09:41:00.000-08:00

I wrote this a few years ago after my 20th High School Reunion. With this year marking 25 years since graduating, I decided to pull this story out and post it here.

With my ten year high school reunion approaching, I felt a small amount of fear and trembling. High School in many ways had been a great experience for me, but it was a time when I definitely did not fit in with the "in" crowd. As long as I stayed within my social circle, life was good; but if I found myself in a crowd of the elite, I felt very rejected and out of place. I debated about reliving those years, but decided to attend the reunion with the same plan in mind - visit with the people that I cared for, those who accepted me for who I was.

I entered the room and began scanning the crowd, looking for those few friends that I wanted to spend time with. I looked...and searched...and frantically scanned the room. It became evident to me that I was not the only one that had second thoughts about coming. As the in-crowd drank to the successes of their post-high school careers, I slunk from corner to corner, desperately hoping that I would see a kindred soul that had just been a little late. After a few hours of meaningless conversations and blending in with the wallpaper, I decided to head for home.

The night seemed dark and dreary as I trudged to the car. Once again, I felt the pain of not belonging - feeling out of place. I slid behind the wheel, and rested my head on the steering wheel as the tears began to sting my eyes. Wanting to put the evening far behind me, I started the engine and began to move through the parking lot,

The stereo coming to life interrupted my silence, and the music played as I drove into the night. It was a tape of Amy Grant singing, "All I Ever Have To Be"...

When the weight of all my dreams is resting heavy on my head,

and the thoughtful words of help and hope have all been nicely said,

Well, I'm still hurting, wondering if I'll ever be the one I think I am.

Then you daily re-remind me that you made me from the first,

and the more I try to be the best, the more I get the worse,

then I realize the good in me is only there because of who you are.

And all I ever have to be is what you've made me,

any more or less would be a step out of your plan.

As you daily recreate me, help me always keep in mind

that I only have to do what I can find,

and all I ever have to be is what you've made me.

Tears began to flow anew as I thanked God for using that song to remind me that it's not what others think that is important - it's what God thinks. He created me - he sent his son to die in my place. He promises me that one day He will take me home to be with Him. I thought back to those days ten years ago, of feeling like I didn't fit in. Now I realized that I fit in
perfectly in the one place where it counted - in God's eyes.

The following years were a roller coaster ride of kids, work, and the usual thirty-something lifestyle. Before I knew it, the invitation for the twenty year reunion arrived. I pondered going for at least part of it, but remembered the pain of my last trip down memory lane, and chose to stay home. As the date approached, I bumped into an old friend, and the topic of the reunion came up. Before I knew what I was saying, I made a pact - one of those 'I'll go if you go' kind of things. I kicked myself later, but decided to make the best of it.

The day finally arrived, and I drove up to the site expecting to meet up with my friend and bravely face the crowd. As with any ill-fated pact, they were nowhere to be found. Once again, I waded through the sea of A-list people, now sporting spouses and children. I endured the same superficial conversations, and carried out that same search for the friends of old. But this time, the attitude was different - it was a feeling of freedom, a knowledge that what these people remembered and thought about me meant nothing. I took a hold of the confidence that salvation through Jesus Christ can bring, a knowledge that I have been accepted by the King himself. I circled the crowd for about 30 minutes, then headed back for real life.

As I got back into my car, I thought back to that night ten years earlier, when a song reminded me of what and who was important. Turning the key in the ignition, I thought to myself - what are the odds? Sure enough, as the stereo came to life, the local christian radio station was playing a song by Amy Grant - only this time, the song was different...

I'm never going to walk away, though the walls come down some day,

All alone and you feel afraid, I'll be there when you call my name.

You can always depend on me, I will be, until forever,

I will be your friend.

Once again, God had used a song to remind me of his care for me, and that he would always be there for me. I rolled down the windows, turned the stereo up to ear-splitting levels, and got onto the freeway singing as loud as I could.

Icebreakers

2009-01-07T10:11:00.000-08:00

A good friend of ours has a gift of engaging people in conversation. No matter who you are, she can start talking with you, and in a matter of minutes, it's as if you've known each other for years. One icebreaker she likes to ask couples is to have them tell the story of how they met. I believe every married couple has a story to tell - that first look, that amazing coincidence, that snapshot in time where there was a spark that fanned into flame. Our friend tells us that we have a good story, so I will share ours with you.

A prerequisite for all college freshman is a writing class, or series of classes. I enjoyed writing, and had received an A in my first writing class, so as winter term approached, I looked forward to Writing 122. One of my good friends in high school recommended a particular teacher to me - he had grown up next to the teacher, and thought she was a nice lady. He of course used the equation (nice lady+old neighbor+used to babysit me)= easy A. I hadn't taken a class with my friend in a few years, and the class was required for my course of studies, so I chose to sign up for an 8 am writing class. In hindsight, 8 am is WAY too early to do any real thinking, but without that class, the story of my life would be very different.

As my friend and I discovered, his equation for an easy A was flawed from the start. He had remembered the nice older lady next door that babysat him from time to time, baked him cookies, and told him stories. When she entered the classroom, her persona changed. I don't recall her being all too mean. However, she was extremely critical of everyone's writing. At the end of each class, she assigned a writing assignment that was due at the next class. We would arrive at the next class with assignments in hand. She would select 3-4 students to read their assignments for the class, then open up a discussion about that person's work. The discussion was mostly her telling us what was wrong with the person's writing. To make matters worse, in the front row was an older student who agreed with everything the teacher said, adding his own unique outlook to the discussion. Looking back, the critique was probably a useful thing - it forced us to dig deeper and write more clearly. However, at the time, it was a lot for an 18 year old college freshman (who thought he was already pretty good) to take.

Many of the students in the class soon discovered that she seemed to pick on those who sat anywhere from the center of the room to the front - rarely selecting people that sat near the back. Because of this, within a few weeks, the back of the room was packed with people, while the front rows were sparsely populated. The room had two rows of six foot tables, each seating three people. My friend and I made a point of getting there at least 15 minutes early, and taking the very back table for ourselves. With this spot secured, our assignments were still raked over the coals on paper, but at least not shredded in a public forum.

Soon, I noticed that one particular student was always just a little late. Because of this, she had to make her way through the crowd at the back to that dreaded section, where she became a target of the teacher and her cohort. After a few classes, I began to feel a little bad for her. No one should have to suffer like that. As my friend and I arrived for the next class, I left an open seat between us, and left my coat and books in the middle of the table. When I saw her come through the door, I very casually slid over, leaving an aisle seat in the back row open. Being the smart person that she was, she saw the opening and grabbed it gratefully, saving herself from another day of abuse. So began a daily ritual - the open seat, spreading out my belongings, and the casual slide over when she walked in the door. She always quickly saw the opening and took it.

As the term went on, we began to talk. She was sure that she knew me from somewhere, but couldn't quite place it. We started to compare notes - what high school did you go to? What activities were you in? We soon discovered that we were both Christians, so we began to compare church backgrounds, camps, activities. Nothing seemed to fit, but at the same time, we were finding out a lot about each other, and a friendship was building.

A few weeks later, I was at work and needed to get something from another department. Who would I find working in that area? The same beautiful woman I had been saving my seat for all these weeks. As it turns out, we had been working in the same large retail store, but in different departments. I'm sure that had I bumped into her at work, we may not have spoken past a few pleasantries. However, God knew that she was the one for me. He brought me into that 8 am class. He slowed her down enough so that she was a little late every day. And He made sure that I was able to leave that seat open each day, knowing exactly who He wanted to fill it.

Starting Out

2009-01-06T21:21:00.000-08:00

I can't say that this first post to my new blog will have any pearls of wisdom. In fact, I may go months between pearls! My main reason for this is to provide an outlet to get my thoughts written down. I've always enjoyed writing, but have never been much of a journal-keeper. This will mostly be just what the title implies - my ramblings. It may be stories from days gone by, venting from the issues of today, or just random thoughts about nothing in particular. I have always been better at written communication than verbal, so hopefully in doing this, more of the real me will show. If you're taking the time to read it, thank you - and feel free to comment!