Loud Loft

What, Me Worry?

For a specific segment of the population that short phrase speaks volumes. For the rest of you, click HERE to find the source.

This phrase has, for most of my life been a motto that I take seriously (pun intended). There are so many things that we have no control over in our lives that it just seemed prudent to accept that it would be better to determine what I should spend my time worrying about and let the rest fall to their own place.

Generally speaking, up until a few months ago, this philosophy worked quite well. Sure, there were times when I worried about certain things and there were times where I felt the cold clamp of depression  . . . but I always worked my way out of those times in a generally acceptable manner.

Life has it’s ebbs and flows, it’s peaks and valleys and what I’ve experienced is well within any normal standards of what your average guy deals with. In fact, I’ve probably had a lot less to worry about than most folks. I’ve been incredibly blessed with good health, a job, friends, family, a roof over my head, food on the table a wife who loves me for who I am . . . seriously folks, when it comes to anguish and whatnot, I lead a “What, Me Worry?” life.

But then . .  .

On April 1st 2009, things came to a crescendo. That it happened on April Fool’s day is just a cruel trick of timing. That morning, I woke up with the very ordinary feeling that my Dad was in the present. What’s not so ordinary is that my Dad died on February 22nd, 2000 . . .

This wasn’t one of those situations where you have a dream that your loved one is alive because even with a dream you understand that it was a dream. This was a scenario that transcended awareness of a dream in which you know something is not right. It was crushing when I finally began the process of realizing that something which I knew to be certain (that my Dad was in the present with me) was not so.

In essence, my Dad died all over again . . . and I began to grieve all over again.

On April 6th I was in a meeting. It was a Monday morning and one of my co-workers was telling a story about some situation that had upset him and how his small daughter came over to him and gently patted his cheek and said “It will be ok Daddy”.

Lisa and I don’t have children and we’ve never had regrets for not making the leap into parenthood. In some cases, I think we would have been great parents, but generally speaking it’s not something we ever had our heart’s desire set upon and we are both comfortable with that choice. We’ve talked about it at length at different points in our marriage (both of them) and we harbor no ill will towards the other for our choices. In fact, we both feel the same way about our decision.

But  . . .  as I listened to my friend describe the tenderness of his daughter towards him I realized that I had to fully reconcile that I would never experience such a relationship with a child, or a grandchild. It was something that I had to fully “put to bed”. I’m not sad about the choice I’ve made or even have second thoughts but I’ve never had to close the door on being a Father or Grandfather . . . . and I began to grieve over that closure.

During all this time, my Mom (who will be 87 this October) was getting more and more frail and less able to care for herself. I have two wonderful siblings who have opened up their homes and share the responsibility for providing a home to her. My mom splits her time with my sister in North Richland Hills and my brother in Denison. Their homes are both one level which makes it possible for my Mom to stay with them . . . our house is two levels and all the bedrooms are on the second level with stairs that make it very difficult for Mom to stay with us for any length of time. In fact, these days, if my Mom is at my Sister’s and they need to be out of town for the weekend, instead of Mom staying with us I go over to my sisters and spend the time there.

But a couple of weeks ago she fell at my sisters. She’s fallen before and has the bruises and scars to prove it. She is (by her own description) a tough old bird. She survived colon cancer over 42 years ago (resulting in colostomy), multiple heart bypass surgery 32 years ago and a fall that broke both of her elbows (they had to replace one entire elbow and half of the other) about 10 years ago. In addition, all three of her children had polio in the late 40’s (my oldest sister died, my other sister was disabled in her right arm and my brother had only minor issues) and of course my dad died of congestive heart failure a little over nine years ago.

The week after she fell at my sisters, she was at my brothers. I had the strangest impulse to call her on a Monday morning and my sister in law answered her cell phone in a bit of panic. Mom had fallen again in the bathroom and she had just got her back to bed. I spoke with Mom on the phone and she didn’t sound good.

I drove to Denison and spent part of the day with Mom. We think she may have taken an extra nighttime sleep aid and was just really groggy when she got up in the morning . . . that’s what we hope anyway. Still, watching your mom laying in bed struggling to make a coherent sentence is sobering. She’s been ok since then but she’s ready to go and be with Dad. I know the grieving for that time will come and I grieve a bit now for her loss of mobility and self. She’s still a “tough old bird”  . . . for now.

Did I mention that my wife’s brother was recently divorced after 30 years of marriage? All the turmoil has been tough on him and almost as tough on Lisa. She and her brother (I’m very close to him and we go back even from before I met Lisa) are as close as two peas in a pod. The pain he has felt has taken a toll on Lisa. I’ve struggled with how to be a good partner, husband and friend to her as she deals with her own feelings about all this.

And then about a year and a half ago I changed careers - drastically. I left a VP of Operations position with a company that I had been with for eighteen years to go to work for my church. It’s a great job and one that I’ve been preparing for all of my life and I wouldn’t trade it for anything . . . but #$%^&! it’s a lot different than what I’d grown accustomed to for the last thirty years.

So, between grieving all over again for my dad, grieving for the first time over parenting choices, my Mom’s declining health issues, my wife’s struggle with her brother’s divorce and my job change . . . I began a spiral that I could not correct.

One of the amazing things about my new job is that I work with people who care enough about me to call me out when they see a change. My boss (who is also a good friend) took me aside one day and bluntly asked “what’s the matter?”. He had noticed, other co-workers had noticed and they loved me enough to not sweep it under the rug and carry on as if nothing was the matter.

Another amazing thing about this job is that my employer provides counseling to staff free of charge. You might think that would be a matter of course for a church but this counseling is done by a third party, off site and is anonymous. The counselor notifies one person her at the church of how many visits were made by staff in any one month and then he’s reimbursed accordingly.

So, I had a visit with the Doctor and after  going into much more detail than I’ve shared here, he concluded that there had been a “perfect storm” of issues and that I was experiencing moderate depression. He offered to continue the meetings and also offered the option of a prescription for an anti-depressant if I was open to the suggestion.

Have you ever seen the iPhone commercials where the narrator describes a certain situation and then declares “there’s an app for that”. That’s pretty much how my generation grew up with drugs. If there was a problem then “there’s a drug for that”. Some folks have issues with that and would rather explore any option possible before they run down the path to prescription drugs. I, however, see things a bit differently.

Last year about this time I had surgery on my right hand. Several months later I was having a terrible time with my right elbow. It seems that I had developed tennis elbow as a result of  favoring my hand and arm as the scar healed. I had multiple physical therapy sessions on my right arm and elbow but what finally did the trick was a steroid shot right into my elbow. All the manipulation in the world wouldn’t solve the problem. It took a little bit of medicine directly into the elbow to jump start the healing process. It worked quite nicely.

So, today I visited my family doctor, reviewed the situation with her and walked out  with a month’s worth of samples of something that is supposed to jack with my serotonin levels. I should see some improvement within a week or less and I will update my doctor when I go back in four weeks for my annual physical. The thinking now is that I will be on the anti-depressants for six to nine months till I work my way back to square one.

I’m wrestling a little bit with sharing all this personal information online in a public forum . . . but what the &%$#. If I’m ever going to err on one side or the other, I’m going to choose transparency, authenticity and “real” over the other choices. I don’t fault others for not making that choice. I mean, seriously that’s why it’s called “choice”.

I will post more as the weeks go by. It actually helps me to tell this story. It’s one way that I process the intangible and abstract and give it form and space. At some point I can go back to my motto, “What, Me Worry?”

More to come . . .

Thoughts on 1/20/09

It’s been interesting to watch (read) the folks in my online community comment on the recent inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama. LIke most folks (I hope) I have friends, relatives and acquaintances from across the political spectrum.

My sister is a Democrat who cancels out her husbands Republican vote each year. My brother, earlier in his life was a Kennedy Democrat (JFK era) but I would put him in the Republican/Libertarian camp these  days. Most of my wife’s family are some version of pretty hard core Republican. My dad never voted anything but Democratic (as far as I know) since the days of FDR and I’m pretty sure my Mom followed his lead.

Of the folks who I work with - it’s split fairly evenly between Blue and Red. When we were on an overnight work related team building/strategic planning trip back before the election we all fessed up and told we were going to vote for, the details of which will never be divulged.

That we felt comfortable enough to share was remarkable and is a testament of the closeness we felt and the trust in each other that we began to develop. I’m the new member of that group and I’m still getting used to that level of intimacy between leaders - but it’s freakin’ cool, let me tell you . . .

I don’t have any problem sharing who I voted for in the most recent Presidential Election . . . I voted for whoever Lisa told me to vote for.

You may call that a cop out - but you can go pound sand. A long time ago I decided that I would graciously cede this one to her. I go on and on and talk and debate and analyze and when it comes right down to it, I would rather give her the honor of choosing who she and I vote for rather than beat it to death with words.

I will say that it only applies to Presidential races and I’m free to vote on my own for all the other races. Trust me, I’ve voted pretty much every party (including Independent, Socialist, Libertarian and Vulcan) at one time or the other. Yeah, Vulcan is a race not a party but I swear I once saw it on a ballot.

This was the first Inauguration that I’ve followed this closely since Reagan and that was only because the Iranian hostages were being release at almost the same time as the swearing in ceremony and my joy for their release was tempered by my amazement that we had actually elected such a clueless old guy like Reagan. I’m sure he wasn’t the first “puppet” President but great googly moogly people he was the nearest we’ve come to a Raymond Shaw President, at least in my life time.

But I digress - and probably lost all the conservative Republicans readers, pity (so please stay around)

I’m still trying to get my head around the first African-American Bi-racial, Mixed-race whatever  . . . POTUS and what it must mean to every body who doesn’t look like me. Ummm . . .  if you don’t know what I look like, my shiny happy face is beaming out at you from the upper left corner of this blog

There - now that you know what “I” look like, consider the mixture of face shapes, eye shapes, colors, shades, hair texture, height, width (yeah I’m talking Aretha here) and ages of the folks sitting on the platform at the inauguration.

Guess what, that’s how God sees us and I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed such a blending and mixture in such a public place presented at once to so many people around the world.

Oh, and I do think this is a grand thing. A great thing. A wonderful thing. More accurately reflecting the “entire” image of God is never a bad thing. It’s never something to be afraid of. It’s never something to oppose. It’s to be pursued. It’s to be longed for. It’s to be enabled . . . by your thoughts, your words and your actions.

As for the politics of Barrack Hussien Obama . . . he will likely accomplish far less than he hoped for when he began this journey a few years ago. History will tell us if that is a good thing or a bad thing and no pundit or commentator worth his or her salt (and to be clear few are worth anywhere near what their salt would bring on the open market - yes I’m talking Keith Olberman, Bill O’reilly, James Carville and Ann Coulter) would disagree.

As for me - I pray for President Obama, his Cabinet, his advisors, his followers and his family. It’s the same one that I prayed for Carter, Reagan, Bush Forty One, Clinton and Bush Forty Three. A prayer for wisdom, for courage, for discernment, for humility and for compassion.

Hmmm - I wonder if there will be all this hoopla when Michelle Obama is elected in 2016 . . . kidding - or am I?  :)

The Bill & Lisa Story parts 1, 2 and 3

Here's the three videos that were played at the beginning of the messages at Irving Bible Church.

Part one played on July 6th
Part two on July 13th 
Part three on July 20th

You can also go to www.irvingbible.org and click on the little "headphone" icon in the bottom right hand corner of the screen and listen to the entire messages. Or you can click HERE too and start with the message from July 6th.

Part One - Bill's story

Part Two - Lisa's story

Part Three - The Reunion story

If you woke up tomorrow . . .

So I’m flying home from Las Vegas on a Boeing 777. The flight was delayed about ninety minutes due to an equipment malfunction somewhere down the line. This meant we would be arriving in Dallas on the heels of a nasty line of storms that was blowing thru.

Now, I’ve flown enough to have experienced some pretty rough flights. I mean really, I’ve flown in tiny and not so tiny planes in and out of muddy dirt airstrips in Africa. I’ve crossed the Nile River at 10,000 feet and had to dodge huge storm clouds to make our way.

But this one was different - very different.

All was well except for the last twenty minutes or so of the flight, when the pilot came on and said for everybody to sit down and buckle up . . . even the flight attendants. The Economy section of a 777 is set up in three sets of seats across. The two outside sections consist of two seats - a window and an aisle. The center section is five seats across. I’m sitting two seats in from the aisle in the center section so I can’t see a thing except the back of the seat in front of me.

The plane hits a little rough air . . . and then it starts to get bumpy, real bumpy. It’s not just up and down but sideways too. This goes on for a while and I start to get sick to my stomach and my head starts to pound. I’m usually not too bad with things like this but for some reason it’s really knocking me for a loop.

Here’s the kicker.

I did something that I don’t think I’ve ever done before. I said to God. “If I die please take care of Lisa . . .”

That certainly ratchets the seriousness of the moment up a few notches doesn’t it?

I was very calm while all this was going on and after quite a few more minutes of this shaking and rocking - we landed. The Captain came on to make his usual announcements but pretty much all he said was “well that was interesting”

A couple of weeks ago at church Barry Jones was talking about the classic fear inducing question used by well intentioned Christians of “If you died tonight, where would you spend eternity?” This question is designed to cause someone to follow Jesus Christ out of fear of being eternally separated from our Lord.

While that’s a valid question to ask - it’s really a very unsuitable question for many reasons - the first being the fact that most people “aren’t” going to die tonight. In fact, most people are going to not die tonight about 29,000 nights in a row. Statistically, it’s just the wrong question to ask.

A much better question to ask, as Barry pointed out is “what if you don’t die tonight?”

The implication is what are you doing with your life, in your life, in the lives of others that honor God during all of those 29,000 days that come after the 29,000 nights that you didn’t die?

As I bounced around with my seat belt snugged up tight around my waist I did think of Lisa and prayed for her to be safe and provided for. Of course with all of the insurance money and her beauty/attractiveness/sweet personality and whatnot she won't have any trouble getting “help”.

So my thoughts were less about if I died (I’m covered both ways there) but more about if I lived . . .

We are not promised tomorrow even though most of us still consider it a sure thing So I challenge you, dear reader, to consider what you are doing with the days you do have. Don’t worry about the days you won’t have - you can’t do anything about those.

It’s the days we do have . . . and what we fill them with that should worry us.

Guilty as charged . . .

There’s this thing I do that drives Lisa to want to commit a violent crime. If I ever end up missing under mysterious circumstances check for any recently poured concrete pads in the back yard - that’s were I will be.

See, I have a compulsion that I try to keep under control. Medication can’t help it. Therapy can’t fix it. Self-help books do no good. I didn’t even know what to call it till just a few days ago. I knew that I did it and that it drove Lisa crazy and that I can recognize when I do it in front of others by the glazed look in their eyes.

So, I’m listening to a This American Life podcast (click HERE to go to the site) and for the first time ever I hear my malady explained. Here’s what happened.

There is an annual competition at MIT called the MIT Mystery Hunt and as part of the podcast the host, Ira Glass, interviews one of the competitors. But it wasn't’ the guy talking about the competition that solved my own personal puzzle, it was him talking about how he discovered his own malady and in the process he solved my mystery.

It seems that this guy’s day job is writing greeting cards for Hallmark. He had recently been transferred from the humor department to the serious department (how would you like that on your business card) and his supervisor called him in one day to reprimand him. There had been multiple complaints made that he used too many obscure references in his conversations with his co-workers and it made them uncomfortable.

Yes, that’s a bit weird and the Supervisor acknowledged that it was odd but he had to follow thru on the complaint. So the guy started keeping a record of things he said so that he could try and solve this puzzle . . . since that was his hobby.

But, a few days later, the guy was having lunch with some of his former coworkers from the humor group and the point was made that “all though we write a lot of jokes about monkeys the drawings on the cards are always of chimps”. The guy went off on a long explanation of the differences between monkeys and chimps and how they are often confused and listed all the ways that you can tell the difference and also gave a list of the animals that are not thought of as chimps but are really part of the chimp family.

When he finished - one of his buddies said “here - let me draw you a picture of the rat’s ass that I don’t give”.

Immediately the guy had an epiphany. He now knew what his co-workers over in serious had complained about. He also finally knew what it was that he did that annoyed some (but not any of his friends on the puzzle solving team) of his other friends.

He said “now I get it. I educate people against their will”.

When I told Lisa about this you would have thought she had won the lottery and discovered a cure for cancer all at the same time.

“Yes! Yes! That’s it! That’s what you do that drives me crazy!” This went on for awhile until she was able to gain her composure. I sat quietly at the kitchen table with my pie hole firmly shut. I learned quite a few years ago of my habit of educating someone against their will (especially Lisa) and when I do recognize it I really do try to change the subject and shut up. I’m not always successful but I’m more so now than I’ve ever been.

Seriously, this is one of the things that really contributed to our problems and is one of the things that I really did struggle with. It’s not that I’m overly egotistical (well, yeah a little) it’s more that I want you to know this cool thing that I’ve found out.

So - there it is. My name is Bill and I struggle with educating people against their will - and the crowd said “Hi Bill . . . keep it to yourself”

All right! Two fell!

There’s a Gary Larson cartoon that Lisa and I often quote.It’s a single panel cartoon of two snakes standing in front of a vending machine. The snakes are “standing” in the sense that they are raised up the way you see cobra’s just before they strike. The vending machine is one  of those with a glass front showing all the candy bars and chips in little cubicles arranged on shelves

After you drop your money in the slot and enter the “address” of the specific treat that you want (something like E3 for instance) - I spiral coil turns one revolution and the item falls to the bottom. You then reach thru a little panel and get your candy bar.

It’s an efficient way to sell candy bars and whatnot . . . and provide a little floor show as you watch the coil spin, the item slips forward and then drops into the tray at the bottom. Not only is the snack satisfying -  the whole process is entertaining with a touch of trepidation in that you hope that your chosen snack will not get hung up on the edge of the shelf and your sugar jones will go unrequited . . . or best case the machine screws up and you get a double drop of your chosen snack

So the snakes are standing in front of a vending machine that dispenses dead rats and they are looking at each other with glee in the eyes and the caption is . . .

“All right! Two fell!”

Lisa and I have been using that phrase for years whenever we get a double blessing or an unexpected blessing.

Starting today, January first of 2008, I now have two jobs. One is my old job redefined. I’ve worked at TWL for a little over eighteen years in various roles and my title now is VP of Operations. It’s a very good job with a great boss and some wonderful people working for me - and some wonderful peers that I work with too.

The other job is my new one at IBC (Irving Bible Church). The official title is Communications Director (or maybe Director of Communications - I don’t really know) but the real title is Storyteller . . .

Ever since I was in High School I’ve wanted to tell stories. I started out telling stories with photographs. When I got to college I added sound and that’s what I’ve been doing ever since. I’ve always enjoyed writing and when I discovered blogs I’ve used it to continue the process. When folks ask why I got into this business I tell them that "I wanted to tell stories with pictures and sound." Maybe it's not the most eloquent way to say it - but it's accurate and concise - and I'm not always know for being concise :)

For the last three or four years I’ve been working with IBC to help tell their story and it seems that it’s now become a full time job. I will still continue with TWL but with a few changes. In a lot of ways it’s just a flip flop of time spent. Instead of the major consumer of my time being TWL and the minor consumer being IBC - those roles are reversed now.

There’s been a bit of skepticism of how this will work out. I’ve reorganized the groups that report to me at TWL and reassigned a couple of groups to other folks. I’ve also taken a substantial pay cut at TWL to reflect the fact that I will spend far less time in the office. I’ve been very clear at every step along the way with IBC that I plan on continuing a work relationship (with less obligation and fewer commitments) with TWL . . . if they would have me.

In this age of instant communication via smart-phones, text messaging, call forwarding and whatnot - I’m not real concerned about loosing touch with either group.

I’m also not real clear on this concept of a 40 hour work week. It’s my upbringing I suppose. My Dad worked in the pipeline construction business his entire adult life and 80+ hour work weeks were the norm until the job was done.

I see Lisa, a small business owner, working before she goes in, after she comes home and on the weekends. The “allure” of having your own business fades quickly when you realize that you “are” the business and it will not get done unless you do it - or ask your loving, patient spouse to do it :)

We do have our R&R and without it . . . well, it’s not a pretty sight. There is a balance to our work lives, emotional lives and spiritual lives. It’s not the most common way of balancing those three but we actually do a pretty decent job. Not having kids (or grandkids) comes into play too. I hear they really take up a lot of your time :)

So I get to continue my work at TWL as it moves forward into it’s new year AND explore what my new job holds for me at IBC. It will be a challenge to make it all work out but I’m confident it will. There’s lots of unkowns . . . but when isn’t there? I do know that God will be with me however it goes and I’m looking forward to this next chapter in my life.

BTW, the “short” job description of what I will be doing at IBC goes something like this. "I don’t have to change the world - just tell the story of those who are."

The caption on the carton says it best about how I feel  . . .“All right! Two fell!”

Two Things . . .

The Setup

So I’m sitting in a coffee shop the other day with an old friend. By old - I mean that I’ve known him for about seven years or so. By old - I mean that he’s about five or six years younger than I am. By friend - I mean someone who I only see every now and then, but the transparency and depth of our friendship transcends the frequency of our time together.

The last time we had made time in our schedules to visit each other, we had talked about churches and how some people just “get” a particular church. Churches are a lot like fingerprints in that each is unique and they very often can be identified by what they leave behind.

He had mentioned that I “get” the church that we both attend. I thought this was interesting in that I too think I “get” this specific church but I was curious how he had come to the conclusion that he could observe that in me . . . so I asked him.

But the first thing

If you’ve followed the story of Bill and Lisa, either thru personal relationships with either one of us or by reading about it HERE you will know that a critical part of our time together and apart was a moment almost ten years ago when I asked God to show me how my friends saw me and being a clever Fellow He did me one better and showed me how He saw me. That was a watershed event in which my life changed . . . and things have not been quite the same ever since.

The other thing.

My friend began to run down a list of things that supported his statement that I “get” this particular church.

It went on for quite a while.

It was very specific.

It was very humbling.

I don’t say all this to let you know what a good guy I am . . . or that my friend is a good suck up who is looking for something from me so he’s trying to butter me up. I’m not that good and my friend doesn’t have time for crap like that. I’m telling you this so that I can tell you what Lisa said.

A few days later, I was finally able to sit with Lisa and tell her about my visit. As we talked I came to this part in the story. I told her that I was uncomfortable sharing the list of things my friend had said about me . . . as it would sound more than just a bit boastful and she knows that my ego has a hair trigger.

She lovingly replied, “get over your self and tell me what he said”. Much like my friend, Lisa doesn’t have time for that kind of crap either.

So I told her.

She sat and listened.

She was very quite for some time after I had finished.

After a few moments she said, “God finally told you how your friends see you”.

God does give you what you ask for. Not so much on your timeline or exactly how you asked for it. What with us being human and all . . . our requests rarely come from a place in our heart that isn’t full of ego and selfishness . . . so He has to wait till our heart is ready to hear the answer.

Who knew it would take ten years for me . . .

Was “Teenage Wasteland” . . . Now “Vast Adult Wasteland”

So I was at this odd little conference called “Return of the Tentmaker” a while ago. As part of the first speakers presentation we were asked to create a document that represented the significant events of our life . . . up to that point.

It could be a list of things, a narrative . . . or even an actual map. I came up with something that was a cross between a map from The Lord of The Rings and one of those Family Circus comics in which little Billy goes from point A to point B but takes the most circuitous route possible.

There was the adolescent era, the college age, the work and marriage period, the dark times of separation and divorce and the blessed period of reconciliation and various other spots on the map represented by mountains, valleys, rivers and whatnot.

In the middle, occupying the majority of the page was an area called “Vast Adult Wasteland”. This, of course, is a play on two phrases. The first is “Teenage Wasteland”, a line from The Who song “Baba O’Riley” and the second, “Vast Wasteland” is from a speech given to the National Association of Broadcasters in 1961 by Newton Minnow, the then Chairman of the FCC.

The former references waste in general (not necessarily getting “wasted” per se) and the later refers to what one would observe if they were to sit in front of their TV all day with their eyes glued to the screen.

I’ve seen The Who three or four times now and they play the song at every concert. The crowd always drowns out the line “Don’t cry, don’t raise your eye, it’s only teenage wasteland” (sung by Pete Townsend). It’s a seminal moment in classic rock & roll musicology - an admission that things may pretty much suck but somehow, against all odds, and without looking back - life is about moving forward.

As for the wasteland that Mr Minnow refers to (the boat in Gilligan’s Island was named in his honor - you must remember, this speech was given in 1961 - a very long time before the glut of channels with a constant stream of programming around the clock and he actually refers to TV stations actually signing off the air at the end of their broadcast day . . . how quaint) he recognizes the potential lost, the resources squandered, the opportunity missed when “crap is king” (another line from another song about TV) becomes the mantra for our life.

I spent a bit too much time in this Vast Adult Wasteland. I set aside potential, I spent resources unwisely and I watched opportunity leave the station . . .

I’ve decided no more. I’ve decided that my potential is precious, my resources not my own to toss down a rat hole and that opportunity not taken is horribly irresponsible.

I’m not entirely sure how this turns out - but I don’t think it’s too terribly important that I know in advance. I’m pretty sure Sally didn’t know either as she took his hand . . .

Well, since December . . .

It's been a while and I don't really have a good reason for not posting recently. I've been very busy with lots of little things . . . but not any one big thing.

Still getting used to the Griso - there's a nice review of it (with a cover photo) in the March 2007 issue of Rider Magazine.

A good friends father passed away on January 2 - Donald Elroy Rardin.

I had the pleasure of taking Mr. Rardin to the doctor a few times while his son, Greg was out of town. He reminded me a lot of my own father who passed away on 2/22/2000 (amazing to think that it's been nearly seven years . . .) in that he was educated far beyond his formal school years. Mr Rardin was one of those men who could look at something that was broken and figure out a way to fix it . . . and then do it.

When he couldn't pass some of the physical requirements to be a pilot - he made his career fixing aircraft (he worked for Braniff till they went belly up and then continued to work for compaines that serviced aircraft) and building radio controlled aircraft. He wasn't one to let something stand in the way of doing what he loved to do.

It's a new year and Fit By Design (Lisa's business) continues to flourish. I don't suspect that we'll ever get rich with material things from this venture . . . but the relationships that have been built as a result of following this path are ones to treasure for a lifetime.

My work at TWL continues to take interesting twists and turns. Even while we continue to struggle as a company - I haven't felt this positive about the future in a long while (that will likely jinx it now . . . so sue me). It's got a long way to go and I hope to be able to make a contribution to succesfully turning it around. There's over 200 employees with lives, families, responsibilties, obligations that would suffer if it was to go under - that would be a shame and I will do my part to keep it going.

Loud Loft Media - my little editing venture continues to plug along. It will likely taper off a bit but it's been an incredible ride the pass year and a half with it.

Mike Gwartney and I are making the arrangements to go back to Africa this summer. If you remember from last summer - on my last full day in Yei I was asked about coming back to teach video production. We've made some preliminary plans to go back and have been in discussion with the folks at ALARM about when, where and how to pull it off. It looks like we may go to Rwanda this time and have several some folks come in from Kenya, Burundi and Sudan to take the class.

Here's the shameless plug - we need money to buy computers, software, camera and other gear to take with us . . . to teach with . . . and then leave behind. At a minimum we will need about $8000 for the equipment. It will cost $3500 to get me there and back and I'm about half way to that amount.

So - If you want to send money. Write a check to Irving Bible Church and in the memo put "Bill Buchanan Africa 2007/equipment". Send the check to Irving Bible Church 2435 Kinwest Parkway, Irving TX 75063.

You will not be put on a list. You will not recieve a phone call. You will not get flyers in the mail. You will not be prayed for - well, unless you ask for it or something, but really people, if you need prayers you should find someone who will bow with you, put their hand on your shoulder and pray with you in person.

Oh - so why would it be important to send money to a couple of schmucks to take computers and cameras to Africa and teach someone how to use it? WAKE UP!!!

Telling stories with images and sounds is the chief means of communication these days if you haven't noticed. Yes, we blog and yes we write our little stories and send them in emails (but not letters, that's sooooo last century) but the best I can do as a writer is help you imagine in your mind what life is like in Yei, or Rwanda or Kenya - and having a white man drop in once in awhile, shotgun some images of what looks interesting to him at that moment and then tell a story from "his" perspective . . . doesn't do the story justice, it can't and it never will.

What makes a difference is putting the tools and skills in the hands of the storytellers who are living the story and "that's" the story to be told and "those" are the men and women who need to tell it.

Just like in war - it's a matter of who gets there first with the most. In this case the war is for the minds and souls as well as for the land and resources.

Well - anyway - that is what has been going on the last month or so. A new motorcycle, a passing of a father, work . . . and planning for Africa this summer.

Pray for me.

Send money for equipment.

More to come . . .

Distance

My default personality could be described as “distant”.

I’m distant from my family, my friends, casual acquaintances, business associates, coworkers and so on. Given my druthers - I would rather hold back and move forward only on my own terms.

This causes me to miss a lot things. Especially time with my family, my friends, casual acquaintances, business associates, coworkers and so on . . . hmmm, those sound familiar.

Now - I can do a pretty good job of squelching my “distant” nature when I want/choose to. I can be quite compassionate, caring, interested and actually be genuine with those actions. It’s not like I’m faking it. It’s just that it’s not my first response. I also have enough ego and need for attention that I can feel quite comfortable being the center of attention.

I suppose that it’s somewhat similar to what you hear when some actor/comic is interviewed and they claim to be insecure, shy, uncomfortable and what not with fame. In certain situations, with certain audiences I feel quite at ease in the spotlight. To some degree that is a result of being confident in my ability to communicate what I want to say . . . and to another degree a bit of desire for attention.

It seems that we are made for relationships if you happen to believe that whole “created in His image” line of thought. Now, as many of the faithful Loud Loft visitors might know there is a relationship in which distance is not an issue. That, of course, is with my Beautiful Bride AKA Lisa.

Like all matches orchestrated by our Lord - it’s about as well written a song as could be. We certainly have our moments of discord - we are after all, humans - but having heard the melody that is our relationship . . . well, it is music to my ears. It’s that tune that you can’t get out of your mind once you hear it - and that’s a good thing (unlike anything by KC and the Sunshine Band - sorry)

However, this “distance” thing with others is getting to be quite the beast of burden. What with it being so freakin’ contrary to reflecting the image of Christ to the world - this sucks.

At the same time - I seem to be leaving lots of baggage by the side of the road as I continue my little adventure with the Rebel Jesus. Some of the load that is being shed are the parts of me that struggle with distance.

If you read this post and have found me distant at some point in the past - sorry about that, it really wasn’t personal. It may be what I am but it’s not what I want to be. Patience please - I will try to offer the same and this time it may come from somewhere a bit closer than before. I’ll keep some mints close by just in case.