Rock on your back

I talked to a friend today who has an incredible amount going on in their life right now. None of the things he needs to do are bad and not all of them are mammoth projects, but there are a lot of them. While I'm talking to him, trying to figure out what was going on and what I could do, he described it like having rocks on his back. It snapped into focus.

Imagine for a moment you are going on a hike with one of those huge, you can carry everything backpacks. If it is loaded properly, it will have everything you need in it and weigh an amount you can manage. It feels good, balanced. Now imagine some devious fiend, think handlebar mustache and woman tied to the train track, begins slipping things you don't need into your pack unnoticed. At first, it gets a little heavy, maybe slows you down, then gets uncomfortable and finally can result in you not taking it at all.

I have been my own villain, loading my own back pack with rocks and felt that overwhelming feeling of I just can't do this. I completely understood exactly what my friend was saying, and my guess is some of you have felt this way to. Sometimes you can get so overwhelmed by the weight of the tasks it can keep you from doing any of them. This does nothing for you, because when your distraction ends, the tasks remain.

I listen and I think about the rocks, these tasks, which have hurt my friend and I realize there is a method we would use, if this was a real rather than metaphorical pack, to solve this problem. Repack. If you are in this spot, you can do the same thing right now.

First things first, dump out your pack, look at all the stuff you are carrying around, what is it weighing on your mind that you need to get done. Really look at them. Make a list of them. Now, write beside them the length of time it is going to take you to do each of those tasks, this is like their relative weight. Now anything which is less than two minutes, do it immediately, don't wait, don't even finish this blog, do it now. Now, anything that is under ten minutes, drop it in the pack. You are going to handle these things today. How much time does that leave you? Ok, now those bigger rocks, those longer than ten minute tasks need to be prioritized. High, medium and low. One at a time pack the highest to lowest priority items and leave everything else. Don't overpack you bag. You know how much time you gave left.

If you have done this right, the pack will be right and balanced, but it still might feel heavy. You just stopped carrying more tasks than you can handle, it is going to take a minute to adjust. As the coach would say, walk it off. Take the pack, with just the things you can handle and begin getting them done. You may be tired at the end of your day, but you'll be more successful than you were yesterday and you'll have less to pack tomorrow.

The quicker I do this, the less overwhelmed my day feels, I trust the same will be true for you.

Milwood Youth Group

In fall of 1993 at least three substantial things happened in my life. I moved to Kalamazoo, about two hours from my family and in with my Aunt. I started attending Western Michigan University, as part of my plan to become a great American novelist and I started attending Milwood United Methodist Church. These were the days when I wore red square sunglasses, crazily colored hats, flannel shirts and hole riddled jeans, roughly repaired with safety pins. I was pretty responsible for my age, but I was young, impulsive and unwise.

I did not just go to Milwood, but I joined and in a few weeks started working as a youth leader. I think we had gone to church a couple times, Aunt Nancy and I and a few of her friends, and it came to my attention that the youth leaders were looking for some help. I found out who they were, introduced myself and they invited me to come see what it was all about.

Richard and Sheri, the couple running the group, were fantastic. Upon first meeting them I thought he looked a little like Gomez Addams, I think it was the mustache, but they were not reserved. They rolled with the punches, always expressed love, talked with the kids and just made the group a family. I learned their games, like batonka and saw their rituals, each kid getting to paint a brick on their senior year. I loved the ministry.

That summer I went to Appalachia Service Project with them, really solidifying myself as part of the group. I was friends with the kids, many of them fascinating, and friends with their parents some of whom had a long legacy at the church. One of the first things I noticed in the church was an old choir photo on the wall, which had some of these parents as children and their parents. So, to be accepted somehow felt like getting into the club.

I think it was when we returned, perhaps a few week later, that Richard and Sheri asked to meet with me, I was worried, as I always am when someone asks to speak to me privately, but I agreed to come to youth group early so we could talk. As it turned out, they were planning to start a family, did not have time to devote to this ministry anymore and they asked me to consider taking over. This was a horrible idea, I had never planned to the level this would require, I didn't really understand the way the Methodist church worked, I didn't even really know the pastor. Worst of all, I was interested in one of the youth girls, only one year my junior, but across that divide. So, I said I would pray about it, but I already knew I would say yes.

In a few months the transition was made, I got an office, inherited all their lesson books and took over the schedule. There was a lot I did poorly. I was bad at running events and keeping control of the kids. I didn't get the help I needed. I cancelled events with very little notice. On the other hand, the one thing I did well was teach the Bible. I studied and read context, I planned discussions and bridged it over to modern life. This was the spot I didn't feel like a fish out of water.

I had, had an initial interview when I got the job, but otherwise I had not had any connection to church leadership. I had run the group for a year or two, even taking the kids to another Appalachia Service Project, but I was disconnected. So, out of the blue one of the parents, Gary I think, came up to me and let me know he was part of the lay board and they would like to talk to me. I asked him what the lay board was and then worked out a time I could meet them.

They used the library of the church and as I recall they sat in the chairs scattered around the room. I think Gary, the parent who came to me, was the only person I knew. They asked what my plan was with the youth, what I was trying to do. So, I told them a rough idea for youth nights, I expressed my focus on the Bible study and talked a little about how little bible knowledge most of the kids seem to have. I don't remember exactly how the conversation went from that point, but I walked away with one clear take away. They wanted me to focus on making the group more fun and less on Bible study. This group, as I understood it, worked as my boss for the church. This was a paid position, with funds they controlled. They wanted to pay me to teach less Bible. This was so alien to me, I don't even remember what I said. I think I protested a little, but I don't remember. Less Bible?

In about two months, having said my own goodbyes, not blaming the church, just citing other life commitments, I retired from being the Milwood youth director.

Let's play a game, 25 January 2013

1. Firth and Fry
2.


3. Where the Half Moon bore the emissary of the Noble of Orange.
4. The meadows of the old Spanish trail.
5. Olive trees, orange groves and vineyards
6. These (1-5) are the ______ that the _____ in _____ are loosely based on.

Microwave memories

The morning light filtered through the dusty kitchen window. I was small, so looking up through it, all I could see was sky. The cabinets of the kitchen had a thick coat of paint, filling in the dents and splintered wood, smoothing it to the touch, but not completely concealing it. On the stove was a dented, steel colored kettle, hot with the water which would make my grandmothers instant coffee. She wasn't paying attention to it now. Instead, she was dealing with the enormous, TV sized, microwave, which she was making one of our favorite treats. Justin and I didn't know or care that this was just a way to get the last little goodness of an old donut. What we cared about was the smell of sweet bread and sugar which filled the air as the door swung open and the gooey sweet goodness of the texture and taste. We enjoyed the simple microwaved donut in a way that is hard to imagine now, but my grandmother, she enjoyed us, watching our joy from something so simple and that makes perfect sense.

I watched through the plastic door to the contents of the running microwave. A dozen toothpicks lay spaced out on a paper towel. I was hoping this would dry the cinnamon oil, which they had soaked in overnight. I could smell the fireball like smell leaking out of the edges of the door. Behind me the world went on, but for me it was just me and this experiment, this hope I could make something to sell. As the cycle went on, the toothpicks became a little fuzzy, perhaps moisture on the door or a little fog. It seemed good to me, a good sign it was working. When the cycle ended it wasn't like my Grandmothers microwave. It beeped, not rang a bell, and the cycle completely stopped on its own. My view went black. I opened the door to check almost immediately. The fog which had been trapped inside rolled out and caught me directly in the face, burning my eyes and making it hard to breathe. Microwaves are not good for drying things, but they make great ways to injure yourself.

The high chairs sat side by side. They were white and blue Gracos, which tilted back and had a five point harness. Savannah sat in one and Sierra sat in the other. Both the girls wore red pajamas, which I think had been their cousins and bibs which proclaimed the greatness of their father, bibs I had chosen because I was feeding them. I turned from look at their anticipating face back to the microwave. Inside the glass table turned slowly. Now you see the Gerber baby, now you don't. The trick was to get the mashed up, reddish brown, mashed vegetables to be warm, but not hot. Pop the door, stir the contents with a rubber coated spoon, check the temperature. Perfect. The chill had been removed, no risk of burning, the only thing left was dancing between the two so the could both remain content and not covered in whatever this reddish brown food was.

Shelby and Sienna stand before the microwave in the kitchen. Before them is a paper plate with bread on it. Shelby unwraps the singles of cheese, which she is putting on the bread. Sienna stands purposely where she is in the way for Shelby to get to the bottoms on the microwave, purposely where it makes the most since for her to do the cooking. Shelby pops the door open and Sienna leans toward her, pushing her while she puts her hands on the buttons. I expect Shelby to close the door and punch the 30 seconds in real quick, while her sister protests, but she doesn't. Sienna starts the microwave and they wait for what they call microwaved grilled cheese.

"Get Up, get dressed, make coffee" is what I put in my log, which is how I start nearly everyday. This morning, as I flipped the lights on in the kitchen, I can see that most of the coffee from yesterday is still in the pot. Now, I am a coffee snob, mail ordering and fresh grinding my preferred roasts, but I don't believe in wasting coffee. So, my head has a short fight, good and fresh or ok, but no waste. The no waste side wins. I pull out two cups, one for me and one for Shelly. I fill them both, hers just a little less so their is room for creamer. I put hers in the microwave first. I don't do this because she is not capable, I do it because I can add her favorite creamer and place it on the end of the table, waiting for her, when she comes down stairs. A little, microwaved, I love you.
Reheating coffee

Searching for Answers

Sunday afternoon started incredibly normal and calm. The whole family pitched in and made spaghetti. The girls worked on bread and cooking noodles, while Shelly and I made sauce and gave instructions. It was fun. We ate together, then Shelly and I rested on the coach, while the kids played Minecraft together. This semi-quiet was broken when Sarah, our niece, came in the door crying.

It wasn't the kind of sound you hear and dismiss, as you grow accustom to doing as a parent. This was a cry which told you something was wrong. In just a few seconds we were upstairs trying to figure out what was wrong. Her parents had left in a hurry to be with their friends, a family which my wife has known since high school, because they had found their son hanging. I couldn't swallow that last word. She said she didn't know if he was Ok and I wanted to believe he was. I held onto the hope, trying to imagine what kind of accident had gotten him hurt. Perhaps something in the garage. My wife held Sarah and we prayed for Joe. We prayed for his family. We prayed for Sherry and Jay, who were rushing to be with them.

I was not close to Steve and Shannon, Joe's parents, they were people I saw about once a year, but I was hurting for them. Across the day, details trickled in. It didn't appear to be an accident, Joe had passed, had passed before either his mother or father got to him, no one knew why. Why, was the question which hung in the air. It seemed that question and the hurt were linked. No answers meant no relief. I searched the Internet, I tried to extract everything I could from Facebook, I looked in all the corners I could, but there was no indicator there. Nothing looked out of place.

A few years ago, when Joe was in high school, he had come camping with his parents. He was a scout, so knew his way around the campfire and when the adults were cooking their various treats, he wanted to participate. He disappeared for a little while, withdrawing from the festivities and the next time I saw him he was carrying what was clearly a hot, Dutch oven. He grimaced at the weight, but smiled as he brought it. I made a spot and he sat it down.

When he unhooked the top and removed it, the fruit, cobbler, buttery delicious smell hit me immediately and I wanted a piece. The lanky, goofy, well mannered kid, could cook. He spooned me out a piece and then got a piece for himself. He talked about how it could have been better and I told him how good it was. Then, for just a few minutes, we talked. I had no idea at that time, how valuable those few moments would be. I don't remember exactly what was said, but I remember how clear it was he looked up to his Dad and loved his mom. Then he moved on, sharing his creation with others.

He went to Western Michigan University, making a new set of friends there. He liked video games and doing silly stunts. My school. My hobby. In someways, as I looked for answers It only intensified that feeling of confusion as I realized how similar I might have been to him at his age. The parent in me wanted to find the cracks, but I couldn't see them.

I can't solve this. If I hurt, if I am confused, than it is nothing to the pain and loss his parents feel. I can't even comprehend of the words to say to them.

I pray today for Steve and Shannon and for his sister Megan. I pray for the friends from high school and college, who are trying to come to terms with their loss. I pray for Sherry and Jay, and their kids, as they try to be strong for their friends, while they themselves are hurting. I don't have any of the answers to give them, but I trust God does, so I pray.

Let's play a game, Question 6

Can you identify the "Question 6" identified by each of the clues?
1.F6E52B-FB7B00
2.Alexandrovich, Frederick, Victor
3. 七大恨
4.


5. 50.064693, 19.944973 -> 35.4167, 139.7833
6. What is the theme of these questions?

Ghost Mine

Yesterday was a long day. I had several meetings at work, which weren't bad, but choked my day. Immediately after work I ran to the hospital where one of the men from church had been admitted. From there, I ran to church for dinner and the service. I didn't see home until about 8:30. While Shelly was at choir, I played a little Warcraft, but I wasn't that into it. I really was ready to see my wife.

As expected, she got home, I wrapped up the instance I was in and we settled in for a little TV. As you might know, my wife is crazy and many of her TV choices are, well, the kind of shows a crazy person might watch. These range from Ghost Shows with investigators who undergo fake possession to all manner of HGTV shows, which after include a couple buying one of three houses. I think the excitement is supposed to be predicting which house they will buy, I'm not sure. I can't look at my DVR without rolling my eyes, but I digress. Wednesday, though, seems to be the day when shows we mutually enjoy come together, Ghost Hunters, Destination Truth and Face Off. So, I settle in beside her to watch Ghost Hunters.

Ghost Hunters is Ok. They are in Hollywood, catch a few little things and a good time is had by all. Shelly points out how this is the me show she really wants to watch with me. It's our show. Odd, I know. Anyway, it wraps up and she tells me she recorded the next show because it looked interesting. I am, as you might suspect, nervous. I make sure my iPad is close, in the event I need distraction from this new distraction and I settle in to watch Ghost Mine.

Honestly, I don't know if I like this show or not. I don't even now how to tell you what kind of show this is. It's like a mash-up of one of those, watch guys do a strange labor incisive jobs, shows and a Ghost Hunting show. It is like some executive said, we have enough dangerous job types shows and we have enough ghost shows, but you know what we haven't seen, at least not since Scooby Doo, ghosts in a mine. Let's do it.

Here is the set up, old cranky and highly superstitious miners start working at a mine, which hasn't been operated in year. The last time it was operated, everyone walked off of the job, because of the ghosts. The Tommyknockers. On the other side, you have two paranormal investigators who are excited about the opportunity to do an extended study of a haunted mine. They get in each others way, the miners don't like having a women in the mine, the cameras and wires get in the way of mining. The mining was bad, and the ghost hunting was OK.

I would have a hard time recommending this show. It seems the intersection is a little strange, but for the time being I'm curious. The iPad was never busted out during the show.

Church

Each day this week I am focusing in on one thing and making it my focused prayer throughout the day. Today, my focus is being thankful for church, for my church. It has me thinking on all things church, the rights and wrongs, believers who don't go to church, how much is missed if you don't go and how blessed I have been by my church. Think about it, what is your relationship with church?

First, let me explain what I think the Bible shows us about church. It is constructed by God, for man. Starting the Old Testament, God was very specific about he was to be worshiped and it included assembling together. In the New Testament, we have at least three books which are largely about church leadership and administration. Hebrews 10:24 and 25 says, "And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near." That meet together is to assemble, to be in church. There are more, but I think you get the point. God made church for us, it is so we can support and encourage each other, bringing out the best in each other and you are supposed to go. It is not optional, if we are to please God, we can't reject church.

So, why then don't people go? Some have had a bad experience, which shade their view of church and church people. Some are lazy, they don't want to get out of the house, or maybe even out of bed when church is going on. Some are selfish, they don't want to give up the time or change their routine to make it a part. Some don't go because they have never gone. All of these are easy to argue excuses, and none counter the command from God, but it doesn't make sense to fight over it.

People don't go to church because they are energetic or selfless, they go because church makes a difference.

I am thankful to my church, Praise Baptist Church, because it is loving body of believers. You would have to work hard to come to our church and not feel welcomed. It starts outside the door, and continues until you leave. We want you to feel the love we have for each other when you are there. Additionally, more importantly, we love God. We recognize the changes God has made in our lives, the command he puts on us, the blessing he has given us. We truly, completely worship God. We are family, when the service is done, often times, people are hanging around and talking, breaking off to share meals with each other, planning to see each other through the week. We are bonded together, help each other and provoking the best in each other. We change each other for the better. For this, and so much more, I am thankful.

They are on the roof...

When I was about nine or ten years old, my parents, with the help of my uncle and grandfather, built an addition onto our home. I've written about it before, in terms of the kind of chores and work it resulted in me having, but that wasn't the only thing which came from this time in my life. It also became a time they encouraged me to lie, although not well.

We were in the final phases of building the addition. The walls were up and had windows, the floors were still rough subfloor, the roof was decked, but not yet shingled. Had we been true to our hillbilly blood, we probably would have been, but my parents were higher minded than that. Car keys may be used to clean ears and we may worsh dishes, but we would have shingles.

It was sometime in those days, days when I would be tasked with crawling into the corners of the attic to unroll insulation or walk the twenty foot roof to gather tools left up there, when it was decided we could be left alone for the first time. I suppose once a child can risk his life by walking around a wood structure, which is slanted towards a sudden and deadly drop, leaving them in the house for five minutes so you can go get milk, seems benign.

Just as I'm sure she would peak out the windows to make sure I hadn't toppled to my doom during tool gathering, my mother laid out some precautions while she was away. The main concern it seemed was being caught in a robbery, or being kidnapped, so nearly all of our precautions centered around the phone. We needed to answer the phone in case it was her or the police calling, and more importantly so it was clear to the would be robbers that the home was occupied. A robber could be anyone, not just a strange person, but a person you know. So, when the robber calls, you can't let them know that you are alone, instead I was to tell them my parents were working on the roof. Given the current state of construction, this seemed plausible.

The first time we were left alone, the phone rang, I answered, gave the lie, took a message and nothing happened. It worked, just as predicted. No robbery or kidnapping, no question of betrayal.

It was a few days later when my Mom left to go to the store, leaving us home for a second time. We were busy playing, but aware she had run out, she was only supposed to be gone for a few minutes. The call came just a couple minutes after she left. I picked up the yellow handset and said hello. It was someone from church, but I had been taught. That could be a robber. They might not be as nice as I thought they were. "Can I talk to your mom?" The church lady asked. "My parents are on the roof," I said with confidence. "Really?" The church lady said. Uh oh, I begin to think, perhaps I shouldn't have lied, perhaps God had told the church lady... I swallowed the thought. "Yep, on the roof." "It is really raining outside." I turned at look out the window. It wasn't just raining, it was sheets of rain, soaking everything with heavy drops, painting the world grey. I paused, while I looked out the window.

"I'll have her call you when she gets down." I said, and hung up quickly.

Let's Play a game, Video Games

I tried to make these a little harder and at least a little google proof.

Can you name the game, or game series referenced?
1. GJ, VK, PH, DF, KH, GT, BB, PH, SP, BB, DF, MS, SMM, MT?
2. The first game that you can die by being hit by a car, drowning, being attacked by snakes or eaten by a crocodile?
3. First God game developed by an amphibian?
4. In what game might you teleport with a plugh and get lost in a bedquilt?
5. -, DS, IT, JS, 2, 2SS, AW, AW2, P, Wii, SW, FS, O?

The Promotion of Lord Sazet

I wasn't a made man yet, so we are talking quite a few years ago. The Mandalorian Wars had not yet started, House Yinkyo was just working on deals with Czerka Corporation and considering how to negotiate with the Sith. You would think, looking through the fog of history, I would forget it like I have forgotten so many things, but this moment stands out.

I was working security, basically manning the monitor bays, which captured everything which was going on in Yinkyo tower. Rows and rows of panning images. At first I found this job endlessly fascinating, but it gets old quick and I remember being bored. Perhaps that's why I noticed, I'm not sure, but the camera in Lady Mazet's room. It wasn't in a blatant sweeping way, but the way you only notice because the pattern of what should be is so ingrained into you, that when it is not, it stands out.

The camera turn from its precise angle, which captured all of the room, from the front door to the fire place. It shifted in such a way you could no longer see the door, but you had a much better view of the Lady's desk and the balcony beyond. Being an underboss, she had quite the view, but this wasn't the angle is was supposed to be at. So, I engaged the manual override, which allows for remote adjustment of the camera, and attempted to move it back. I say attempted, because it wouldn't respond. Every time I went to adjust the camera, I was kicked out of the system. In other places this might not have been a big deal, but in the tower it is. I was terrified.

Just a moment later, while I could still hear my heart in my chest, Lady Mazet walked in with Lord Sazet. In those days he was not known in the way he is today. Yes his father was the boss, but it wasn't clear who his successor would be and there were several candidates who were better positioned than he. Even so, there was something special about him. He was so graceful, he made the Lady look clumsy. Where she was tense, he was casual, where she looked forced into her business suit, you couldn't imagine him any other way. He became so magnetic to watch, for just a moment I forgot about the malfunction in the security system.

He stood before her desk, arms outstretched as she sat down. He slipped his hand into his jacket, a dark silvery imported material, and with finely gloved hands withdrew an envelope, which he handed to her. He looked disinterested while she read. He straightened his suit, and verified his top knot was still held tight and aligned so that it fell directly down the center of the back of his head. He look at a small globe of Faleen over the fireplace, while the Lady looked more and more stressed. Finally, as if not noticing what bad news the Lady had been given he opened the door to the balcony and stepped outside.

She dropped the papers on her desk and came to him, just outside framed perfectly now by the malfunctioning camera. She wasn't the boss any more. It was clear she was coming to him and clear that he was in charge. She needed him. He leaned in close, so close I image she could feel his breath on her ear and poured his words, like honey, over her. You could see them transform her, taken from where she was broken, to resolved to perhaps even relieved. She moved a hand up to embrace him, but Sazet stepped back, instead bowing toward her and then moving toward the door, out of the view of the camera.

In the next few moments, the Lady sat at her desk crying, then catching herself and writing. Finally, she sat the pen down, returned to the balcony, paused for just a moment, than jumped.

I called it in a quick as I could. Getting the authorities, calling a team from her floor, doing everything I could. In the chaos of trying to deal with the situation, though, I watched in shock as Lord Sazet returned to the room, perhaps 5 seconds after she jumped. He took the letter which she had written and the envelop he had give her and started walking toward fire place. It was just then the camera cut out completely. He was gone before security got to the room.

I don't know what it was he did, or how exactly he did it, but he was promoted nearly immediately. Of course, no investigation was ever done and it was just a few weeks before Lord Sazet seemed to take an interest in my career development and even my family. To this day he still sends gifts on my children's birthdays.

Learning to be happy when others are not

Some of you probably already think I have this skill. When I have said something which has made you mad, and you make it clear what a jerk I have been, I look at you with the eyes of a child poking a jellyfish. I don't give the emotional feedback you want. I don't usually retreat. I listen, neither happy nor sad, until you are done. This, is a mask. I wear it, so I will not be defeated by my own emotional leanings and so that you don't get feedback which will either heighten your anger, or feel justified in your judgement of me.

Behind that emotionless mask, though, I am longing to be liked, to have my criticism or comment leave you no less happy than before I made it. I want you to see things the way I do. I want you to appreciate my honesty and thoughtfully, without feeling slighted maul it over.

Now I'm not foolish, I know that is not the way it works, I know the only person who can really see things the way I do, is me. I have a fallback hope though, which is even though you disagree with my conclusion, you understand how I got there. You will work to fairly understand me. Maybe not happy, but you get it.

I performed a review this week, which went far rougher than I expected it would. It wasn't an awful review. There was no needs improvement. We were not taking any steps toward termination. The problem was the employee though they had met all their goals, but they hadn't and they had some pretty big communication and management issues in the year. The kind of things which we have discussed, but really needed to be hammered home. The review was given and tears flowed. I wore the mask and listened and explained and explained some more. I knew she wasn't happy, but I wanted her to understand, to grasp the problems so she could fix them.

She couldn't do it. There was no hopping the hurdle of feeling hurt, to figuring out what she needed to work on. No move from unhappy to understanding. See, I made her unhappy, which means, while she wouldn't say so, I was the jerk, since I was a jerk I had mush for brains and since I had mush for brains nothing I had to say was worth considering. I get it, but I don't like it. I am still the guy who thinks that if you don't like me, you should at least understand me.

As I think about it, that is a silly hope too. Whether we like it or not, much of our decision making is from the gut, even if it is how much stock to put into what someone is saying. How closely do I listen, how far will I go to find errors. Do I like what they are saying? Do I already believe it?

Why won't she move past the disappointment? Emotionally, she wasn't ready. Perhaps she couldn't. Should that hurt me? Should that ruin my happiness? No. In fact, it shouldn't hurt your unhappiness either. When you have to give bad news, make a tough criticism or otherwise tell someone something they are not going to be happy to hear, don't expect them to come on board. Give them time. Eventually, if and when they see your heart, when they see you are not trying to hurt them, they will understand the reasons why.

Birthday

Today is my Birthday. This means I have finished one more lap around the sun, approximately, and the date on the calendar has the same day, as the day I was born. I have no control over either of these things. I can't, no matter how hard I try, not lap the sun, nor stop the calendar. So, in what ever celebration there is, it has nothing to do with my merit.

This makes it an odd thing to be congratulated for, or have a celebration offered for. So, for the most part, I keep it to myself. I go to work and tell no one, have my meetings and answer my e-mails. I make my accountability calls, just as I would on any Monday. I keep it under wraps enough that when Joslyn asked me questions, letting me know that she knew it was my birthday, I sheepishly told her that it was. It felt like she might ruin my game, reveal my secret, although it never was a secret, just not worth mentioning.

I like gifts and cake and having a day in my honor, who doesn't, but it has never felt right for my birthday. I've tried playing the birthday card before, but I just can't do it. I don't have the conviction to extract favors for... existing. But it's my birthday, doesn't really work in my house.

It is not that I think birthdays should not be celebrated at all, but for the most part I think we do it wrong and I feel weird about it. My birthday is not a celebration of what I have done, but of the time God has granted me. It is not a time to celebrate, but a time to be thankful. See, while I don't control the day of the calendar it is, God does. While I don't ask to make laps around the sun, God ordained it. I am here because God has seen fit for me to be here and not for any other reason. So, today is my birthday and I thank him for the 38 years he has given me.

Let's play a game, Bible edition

1. What verse is encoded here: 1722, 746, 2258, 3056, 2532, 3056, 2258, 4314, 2316, 2532, 3056, 2258, 2316.
2. What elements finish this pattern and why? Gold, Silver, Bronze, Iron,...
3. What is the next country: Italy, Greece, Greece, Turkey, Turkey, Greece, Turkey, Greece, ...
4. Who wields the first weapon and what is it?
5. What could be described as: Sores, Blood, More Blood, Fire, Darkness, Demon Frogs and Eartchquake?

Thinking on success

Today is a day of goals for me. Steve and I are laying out the things we want to accomplish in 2013, for a conversation this afternoon. We'll be making sure our accountability lines up with our bigger desires and the bigger desires we think God has for us. Today was my review with my boss, looking at how I did on my 2012 goals, and also my goal planning, deciding on what goal my team and I will try to accomplish this year. So, with these things swirling around, it has me thinking about success. What is it that allows some people to reach their goals and others to give up after three days?

I am no expert on these things, but between Wikipedia and Radiolab, I'll play one for the purpose of this blog.

Your body and mind had a default goal not to change. You do not need to set a goal to keep eating Cheetos and watching The Big Bang Theory. If you do not set any goals, you will do what you have done. You will fall into those comfortable and selfish and lazy patterns. The goals we set, are outside of that pattern and a simple declaration doesn't get you there. You have to work at it.

The primary energy which determines your success or failure at making this adjustment is willpower. Think about this, not as fixed quantity, but a pool of energy, which grows and shrinks. So, success is arrived at when you have enough willpower to do the required work and the amount of willpower required is the space of the gap between your default pattern and what it is you want to do. We don't stick to diets and exercise and Bible reading because at some point our willpower is smaller than the gap.

So, what to do? First, understand you can manipulate the gap. The worst kind of goal you can have is a drastic change, which you can easily not do. This is a doomed goal. The goal needs to be realistic. If you have never worked out before, you should not set a goal of working out everyday. It is probably too much of a change. Perhaps a walk everyday, or a working out a couple times a week. In either case, it is better than having three good days followed by a year of saying you should get back to working out. It is not just the change that impacts the gap, but the ease you have in doing it. Working out at a gym which requires you to drive for 45 minutes is far less likely to happen, that working out at home or near home. Also, making it difficult to avoid shrinks the gap. If you workout with a buddy, then you have to tell him you feel like being lazy, which might just be enough to prod you forward when you don't have a good excuse. Get the gap small enough your will power can cover it.

Second, you can boost your willpower. Of course over time, as you use willpower, you build willpower, but that doesn't help you now. So, here are two quick tip to boost your will power right now. On goals which are don't do X goals, goals where you give something up, one of the best willpower boosters you have is distraction. When you really want to eat half a box of Girl Scout cookies, you start doing something which takes your attention with maybe a bag of carrots at hand. TV and simple computer games are not good for this, as they allow too much mental wandering. The second tip works best on goals which are do something goal. That is reward yourself when you are done. Want to get consistent on walking two miles everyday? Perhaps you end every walk with a guilt free miniature candy bar. What is you are trying to read through the Bible? Maybe a little purchase after every book, or some big purchase what you are done. Add to the will power, by giving yourself a little perk. It should be a perk you remove when you are not successful. You train yourself.

Last, you are going to fail sometimes. When stress is high, illness sets in, or you are emotionally sapped, your willpower reserve gets smaller. You have less energy to make the gap. You have to be ok with failing sometimes. Don't set out to fail, but be determined that when you do, you will get right back on the horse. To often a small setback becomes the excuse to fall back, for a long time, into old patterns. This becomes further draining, which makes it even harder. A deadly spiral. Instead, recognize what happen and immediately begin mustering your willpower. Prepare to restart and quickly. Messed up lunch, be prepared for dinner. Dropped the ball today, restart tomorrow. You can regroup quicker then you think and if it seems like you can't talk to someone, it might just give you the boost you need to get going again.

Now, let's go be successful.

2012 in Review

In the lead up to the flip to 2013, I read may posts on Facebook proclaiming how people were happy 2012 was over. Every time I saw these I was struck by a couple facts. First, I usually had no idea what had made the year bad for these people, with one notable exception where death and illness seemed to loom over the family. Secondly, I completely could not relate. In the long view, I think 2012 was a good year for me.

First and foremost, God kept my family safe and healthy. My children are growing up and Shelly and I continue to grow together. Savannah had her first full year in the Plymouth Fife and Drum Corps, in which she made a bunch of friends and is already looking forward to her next five years. Sierra decided she wants to be a writer and spent 2012 working on her first novel, building in that habit of daily writing, which is well beyond where I was in middle school. Shelby and Sienna both started playing violin, playing at a nursing home over Christmas and all of the kids have maintained very good grades. Shelly and I also started a regular prayer time in the evenings, just the two of us, which not only makes us closer, but closer to God.

This year was also a very good one for my church, Praise Baptist Church. We have continued to grow in numbers and in numbers of people serving. We brought on board Pastor Andrew, an incredibly gifted music minister and we saw the immediate growth of the choir and praise band, breathing new life into nearly all the services. Rush Hour, a huge youth event Pastor Jim and the youth put on, nearly doubled in student participation and the kids, for the first time in a long time, did an out of state mission trip. Lastly, this was a year Pastor Jeff, the senior Pastor, introduced impact Sundays and was really able to more safely let go. Additionally, perhaps selfishly, my friendships with all three of these men grew this year.

Overall, 2012 was a great year for friendships. James and I put on a small gaming convention, which was a pretty big success. We got to spend a weekend playing all kinds of games with our friends from around the country. Even though the time was short, I would absolutely say, I became closer to each of them individually, but the group as a whole drew together afterwards, looking to simulate that face to face time. In addition to getting closer to Matt and Kevin, Steve and Larry, James' Sister and Brother-in-law were also there, and I hope to be able to more with them this year. Not only did the con get me closer to existing friends and introduce new friends, but it stirred the idea of doing this every year or even every 6 months. i met others i. Tis year who have similar nerdy interests as well; I started friendships I'm hoping to develop in Derek, from church and Steve, from the Corps, both of which seem to have busy schedules, but like some of the same kinds of games I do.

It is not all gaming, though. Several of the married men from church have started having guy's nights, long after the ladies were doing ladies nights, which reinforces the bonds was already have, gives us more common things to talk about. Between this, and just interactions with my Sunday school class, this has created a glut of things to do and people to do them with. 2012 was the year I really got to know Simon and Larry and Jim.

Then there is my accountability relationships, those people who allow me into their lives and are willing to be a part of mine. These are full of successes. Steve has been my support to exercise and diet (still down 15 after the holidays) and encourage people. Josh has reminded me to pray with my wife, even when I was busy and wanted to be lazy. My wife has held me to do my daily Bible reading. All of these things are part of what made 2012 so good. Also, I have a couple friends that I have held to working out, which have been successful. I've held another friend to perform Godly acts, even when he didn't want to. I've held another to buckle down on getting things done, take better control of his household, and grow spiritually. While they did all the work, I was just a sounding board who checked in, I'm happy with the small role I played in these successes. There was a lot of success in 2012.

So, I just can't relate to the thought that 2012 was so bad. It seemed pretty good to me. I'm not regretting the fact that it is over, though. i want to keep moving forward. So, for 2013, I say, bring it on. If 2012 was good, let's make 2013 great.