Monday, June 30, 2003

It was a beautiful morning for a walk. I was on an Indian reservation in Arizona where you don't see much water, so my eyes were drawn immediately to this sparkling little pond down a short little pathway just off the road. The explorer in me, of course, couldn't just walk by, so I started down that little path to enjoy that sun-sparkling water up close. Then, as I approached it, I saw the sign. The only word I really remember was "sewage." Yes, I was about to enthusiastically explore a facility with a sewage pond. You'd be surprised how fast I can retreat when I need to.

Well,

Wednesday, February 12, 2003

Our son and daughter-in-law live and work on an Indian reservation. And as they've tried to do the work of Christ in pretty challenging conditions, they've lived in humble places, a long drive from the nearest town of any size. Recently, God did something really exciting for them - He provided a little home for them in a place where really those are nearly impossible to come by. Because they moved - and because they're involved in a lot of youth ministry in that house - they quickly needed a place to put their rapidly multiplying trash. Our son called for a dumpster, but that takes a little while on the reservation. In the meantime, they just had to pile it outside - where the reservation dogs usually tore it up and scattered it all around. Well, we recently got a call from a very happy son. He explained his joy with four simple words - "We got a dumpster!"

Monday, December 9, 2002

It was a scene that was re-enacted a number of times when our daughter was a little girl. Okay, here's Daddy, in his chair in the living room, immersed in his newspaper. In comes my little girl, asking for a little attention from Dad. Dad says, "Oh, in a while, honey." The request is repeated, and the same response. Then, after a few minutes, a little girl comes crashing through the newspaper onto her father's lap. Before I could say anything, she would wrap her arms around my neck and just say, "Daddy, it's cuddle time!" Melted Daddy, all over the floor.

Friday, December 6, 2002

My childhood church has shown their love for our family in some very special ways, including sending a work crew to help make some repairs on our house - totally unsolicited. Joe was one of those "angels" that God sent. The first challenge for Joe came long before he got to our house. In fact, it was on the drive out from Chicago. He was sleeping behind the driver's seat in the truck while someone else was driving, and suddenly he was hit with one of his recurring asthma attacks. Now, usually, he's able to get through that real quickly, but this one got a little scary for a while because he had trouble using his inhaler which he carries all the time. Here's what Joe told me. He said, "When you panic, you can't breathe, and I panicked. And you have to breathe to use the inhaler! The only way I can get what will stabilize me is to relax!"

Wednesday, December 4, 2002

There were seasons in the life of our family when I thought we were running our own personal emergency room. Like the time our youngest son dislocated his ankle in football. The doctor put this air cast on his ankle for about two weeks, and then I guess they, uh, located it. At about that same time, our oldest son had surgery for a knee injury he got in sports, so they recommended that he wear a knee brace whenever he played a game where he had to pivot very much. An ankle cast, a knee brace - it's a good idea to support the weak spot so you can prevent further injury.

Tuesday, November 26, 2002

I had just returned from an exciting but exhausting ministry trip. I was, as I think the British say, "cabbaged" kind of described me. Two of our staff picked up my remains at the airport, and I settled deep into the passenger side of the front seat. As we were approaching my home, one of my co-workers said, "I can tell you're really tired." I asked how. The answer: "You didn't ask to drive." Now that's amazing. I always want to drive, and this time the thought hadn't even occurred to me!

Thursday, September 5, 2002

It was very cold in our house. I was the first one awake that morning, and as I scampered through our personal Arctic I checked the thermometer. It said 50 degrees. I called Mr. Furnace to come. In the meantime, I turned on the kitchen stove, I opened the door, and I sat in front of it to have some personal spiritual time. My kids told me that with my eyes closed it looked like I was praying to the stove! Well, Mr. Furnace came and finally figured it out. See, the problem was the thermostat, not the thermometer - that just reflected the temperature. It was the thermostat, which, of course, controls the temperature!

Monday, August 5, 2002

There's one kind of mail from the bank that nobody wants to get - you know, that notice that you've overdrawn your checking account! Especially when they sock you with a penalty for it. It can happen because you've been traveling or unusually busy, or you know, kind of cutting things pretty close financially, or just because you inadvertently wrote some checks before your recent deposit has cleared. You can't try to buy or pay before the money is there to cover it, or you'll just end up paying for that.

Tuesday, July 30, 2002

OK, I couldn't put it off any longer - we had to move the piano. Now, in spite of my Arnold Schwarzenaegger-build (this is radio; you'll never know), I decided it wouldn't be a good idea to move that monster alone. In fact, I remember my dad needed surgery after he helped move a piano once! So the time we moved the piano was determined by one thing: what time could some guys be there to help? As we eased that piano slowly down the front steps, I was so thankful for those other guys. I had my hands full just carrying my corner! This was something that was obviously never meant to be carried alone.

Wednesday, June 26, 2002

There are few things more scary than the dormitory room of a college man. Let's just say that the average college guy does not put a high priority on order or cleanliness in his personal world. Some wife is listening and saying, "It's not just college guys, buddy!" Well, fine. I'm talking about college guys. One year in college, our son was in a suite where four guys shared two rooms and one bathroom. When I commented on the growing need for the bathroom floor to get washed, he told me about their neighbors' room. Those four men had somehow managed to go through the entire school year without once cleaning their bathroom floor. Of course, it got so gross that they didn't want to walk on it anymore. There were strange new organisms growing there. Oh, did they clean it then? Oh no, no - they put boards down on the floor to cover the mess!