Introducing Ryan

And his sister Grace!

Gabby hanging out

Monkey See, Monkey Do

Abby's no Monkey

At Chuck E. Cheese

Site Seeing in Oshkosh, by gosh

Ummm, Maybe?

In just a few hours Elizabeth and I will be heading out to the airport and our first real vacation since... well, at least since she was born. We will be flying to my brother's house. We're actually going to stop right in the middle of fly-over country. Imagine that! There is occasionally something of interest in that vast open space lacking a coast.

This morning, as I was leisurely waking up, all kinds of thoughts were running through my head... the items that can only be thrown into the suit case at the last minute... the time the shuttle will pick us up... and what the heck will it be like to get through security?

I've flown several times on business since 9/11. Security is a pain, unpacking your laptop before going through the x-ray, taking off your shoes, taking every last thing out of every one of your pockets and every extra piece of clothing off so you don't trigger the sensitive metal detector. But with the foil of the terror plot a couple of weeks back, they've taken security up another notch. I not particularly worried. My biggest fear is missing my plane because of long lines at the security check point or perhaps Elizabeth being spooked by all the measures.

I started to think about the things my co-workers (who travel almost every week on business) recommended to help speed our trip through the airport itself. The first recommendation was to check our bags with the sky cap. It costs a couple of bucks more, but it cuts out one of the long lines we'll have to wait on.

Being the paranoid person I can sometimes be, the first thought I had was a momentary panic caused by the thought of losing control of my bags. What if someone snuck something into our bags. Either we'd be blown up mid-flight or I'd be put in jail. Yes, my brain does work in scary and mysterious ways... But as I thinking about the control of my bags, I had this thought... what if the Sky Cap looked very middle eastern? Would I give that person my bags?

I really don't believe in racial profiling. I really do believe that all qualified candidates should be equally considered for any position. Would it be fair to deny someone a job just because of their appearance? You do realize that just because someone looks middle eastern; that doesn't mean they actually hail from the middle east. So in the theoretical, I think anyone who applies for the job of Sky Cap should be given a fair shot at it and hired based on their skills, references, and experience.

But in the practical sense, if I were standing on the side walk with my bags... would I actually hand them over? Would I opt to wait in the long line to check my bags with someone else? Would I find another Sky Cap?

Let's think about this rationally.

How many terrorist attacks have occurred on planes? I'm not totally sure of the answer... I know it's more than one, we all think about 9/11 but there have been several more in other countries and a few failed attempts even within our boarders. So the answer is certainly more than one. But I'm pretty sure it can be counted in double digits; so let's say there have been between 4 and 99 known attacks (or attempts) that can definitely be attributed to Muslim terrorists.

Now, how many flights have occurred since we started to worry specifically about Muslim terrorists (I'm not going to include all the Cuban hijackings and all the fears around Cuban from my childhood...) I figure that world wide there are several thousand flights each day. So the probability that my specific middle eastern looking sky cap will actually be a Muslim terrorist who is targeting my exact flight and picks my specific bags in which to hide something is pretty remote. I don't have the patience to calculate it right now... but if we were measuring the presence of a chemical in water... we'd be looking at parts per million or maybe even parts per billion. In other words, the chances are pretty darned small.

And yet, as I imagine myself standing in front of this imaginary middle eastern looking sky cap... I'm having a really hard time handing over my imaginary bags. I don't like the fact that it makes me nervous. But given the reality of our existence, I really can't be too hard on myself. We are a product of our experiences and my instinct to maintain the structural integrity of my person is pretty strong. So would I hand over my bags? Ummm, maybe.

'What will your obituary say?'

'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Friday, August 18, 2006

MY friend came to say...

A Point of Clarification

If you think you know who I was referring to when I quoted someone as saying a song made them feel like Jesus was their boyfriend... well, maybe you do and maybe you don't. It's really not safe to make those assumptions.

Grace and peace!

I saw Jesus

Jesus is the only person who is always there for me. He is the only person who has never let me down.

When I was very young, too young to think romantically, my very favorite hymn was In the Garden. You know the old timey one -- I come to the garden alone; when the dew is still on the roses... and He walks with me; and He talks with me; and He tells me I am His own.

Every Sunday during Sunday School (politically correct speak didn't require us to call it Church School, yet) I would request that song without fail. I couldn't get enough of the image... this wonderful,important, world saviour would actually talk to me and he wanted me to be his own. Imagine that! My mom didn't want me; I was a stupid, ugly brat -- she said so. My dad loved me, but he worked so much I was kinda afraid of him when he happened to be home. Men were dangerous and I wasn't sure if I could trust my dad. My mom was dangerous, but I knew where I stood with her - at least kinda.

But Jesus, he loved the little children. He told the disciples to let the children come to him. He would meet me in the garden - I had this image of me sitting on his lap and he would hug me and love me and I was safe. So every Sunday I made my Sunday School sing In the Garden so I could feel safe for a few minutes.

As an aside, recently I was talking with some folks about Christian music and someone said, "You know I hate those old hymns; you know the ones like In the Garden; it's makes it sound like Jesus is my boyfriend." That statement was an emotional sucking chest wound. My safest place was a sexual place... but I regained my balance. I let it pass. She just didn't understand how beautiful and perfect it was sitting there in the garden with Jesus.

But anyway, there were times when Jesus' presence felt very real to me. More real than mere words can express because words are just shadows of experience. But I often felt Jesus with me and around me and right next to me, the way you can sometimes feel someone come into a room before you can see or hear them. You just know their essence is with you.

My family has one of those big family Bibles with the beautifully detailed, full-page, color plates. One time when I was seven or eight I was looking at the pictures. In one Jesus was standing in the clouds. I was wishing I could be with Jesus, the way it's described in the hymn. All of a sudden the picture had movement... Jesus' robes started to flow and flutter in the wind. The light around him glowed as if the sun were literally behind him. He reached out to me and I felt myself flying to him in the heavens. I was with him on the page and watching myself in the picture at the same time.

I starred at us for long time... was I really was in my house, in the dining room, looking at a book... or was I flying in the heavens with Jesus. I'm not sure... It didn't matter because I was safe with Jesus. After awhile, I heard my mom screaming. She was angry about something; I don't remember what. Whatever it was, I was no longer in the safe place.

Later I went back to the Bible to find the picture of Jesus in the clouds. Obviously, I couldn't find a picture with me in it. Although I kinda hoped I might. But the odd thing is that I couldn't even find the picture of Jesus; the one with Jesus alone in the clouds. There were some similar ones, but not the right one. To this day, I don't know what happened to that picture. There are no pages missing from the Bible. Every so often I pull out the Bible and I look for that picture.

I was with Jesus a second time. Once in high school, I was babysitting. The little boy had gone to sleep. I was watching TV, waiting for his mom to come home. My mind started to wonder. I started to think about what it must have been like to have known the historical Jesus. I thought about how it must have felt to be one of his disciples. Yes, I'm sure there were a lot of very scary things... giving up everyone you have, never knowing where you will stay, watching your master do miracles, and then watching him die... Easter must have been frightening beyond imagination.

But at the same time, I know there had to be a peace and a confidence and a feeling of being loved and of being protected and safe. I bet that when things seemed the scaryest, the confidence in his protection must have been it's strongest. I imagine the peace and love and safety were compelling. You had to feel them. You couldn't ignore them.

I wanted to experience that. I wanted to know what it was like to be in the presence of Jesus. I started to wish and to prayer and to beg. I wanted to meet Jesus. I wanted to feel his touch and know his love. I sat and I prayed and I prayed and I prayed. I don't know how long I prayed but eventually I felt a hand on my shoulder. It startled me. Except for the sleeping child, I was all alone in the house. With an audible gasp, I jumped out of the chair and turned around.

That's when I saw him. Jesus was kneeling beside my chair. He smiled. He was real. A real man in the living room of my neighbor's house. The odd thing is that I can't tell you what he looked like. I was so fixated by his deep, loving eyes and by the experience of his love I don't really remember anything else. But I can tell you, it was exactly as I imagined it would. As startled and scared as I felt by the sensation of his touch and as crazy as I felt and as much as I distrusted of my own perceptions; as much as this left me feeling unsettled, the was an even greater peace. A sensation reaching down to my very core and I felt fully and completely loved.

I starred into his eyes as long as I could. I was afraid to blink... afraid that brief second of darkness would make him go away. But everyone has to blink. You can't stop it forever.

When he was gone, I still felt his presence. He didn't meet me in the garden, but my neighbor's living room worked. And the joy we shared none other has ever known

Undiscovered U2?

Take a look... lots of guess stars on, too.


Madonna's not bad either!

For all my friends who love U2...

This is a track off of the Johnny Cash album American III: Solitary Man. His take on the song makes more sense to me than (gasp) the orginal.