One: To the Class of 92

"Once I thought I knew everything I needed to know about you. . .but I really didn't know that much"
                                               Bruce Springsteen, "Lonesome Day"

25 years later. . .From left to right Jeff O'Conner, Tyrone Walker, Pamela Foard Jansen, Tracy Truitt Mastrapa, Anita Hodder Jimenez, and me!

This weekend was wonderful. I saw a total of 8 people from the hundred that graduated with me in 1992 and it was wonderful.

I guess most people would consider a reunion with those numbers a bust but I don't.  It was a blessing and I'm glad I came.

On Friday night I arrived at the FLA gymnasium with it's fancy wood floors--the green ones I remember from our time there long gone, along with Coach Fulbright's offices that used to hang high over the entrance to the gym  (Now it's his name that hangs over the entrance).  I looked at the yearbooks on our forlorn, unadorned table, looked at the picture of our class, of us when we were young and the future still lay ahead.  And then one of my oldest friends in the world, Paul Wood showed up and we had the best time.  We laughed and talked through the whole program and then after as well; ended up closing the place down.  We were the last to leave and then talked in the parking lot where I used to park my car alongside the other members of The Group twenty-five years ago.

This guy right here is one of my heroes. I've known him since third grade but we barely spoke in for much of high school.  It was my loss. Today I count him among the best of friends.  Paul's dedication, his boldness, his good heart are all things I aspire to.

We saw some other people that night--none of our classmates--but people that brought back warm memories nonetheless.  We talked for awhile with Tom and Jeanie Brevig, our old Pathfinder leaders at Central church in the days before high school, and I gained a whole new appreciation for their joyful, loving, Christ-like hearts.  We talked for a bit with the mother of one of our classmates--who insisted we call her Loretha now.  It felt a bit weird--I was so used to Mrs. Collins from my childhood, but she's not Mrs. Collins anymore and I'm not a kid anymore.  She was completely charming and I loved chatting with her.  And we talked to Melissa Keller, the alumni and development director at Forest Lake Academy, who also happened to be one of  my wife's good friends in college from the days when. . .well, when I was still a senior at FLA.  A senior who had no idea that in five short years he'd be getting ready to marry an amazing woman from the class of '89.

It was #2for92 and it was so fun.

#2for92

On Sabbath our numbers tripled. Pamela, Anita, and Jeff O'Conner showed up. A full half of our old junior year clique!  Ty joined us later and Tracy popped in just in time for the official class picture.  The program was nice.  The message from Benji Leach was good, but the part that stood out for me the most was the In Memorium segment--two names for our class of 92.  Becky Hall and Frank Modeste, and I felt a real sadness, a true loss.  I hadn't been close with either one of them, but in that moment I felt their loss keenly.  They were too young.  They never had a chance to pass on going to even one of our honor year alumni reunions.  And I never had a chance to know them.

The room where Paul Viar taught me how to study.  The man darn near killed me in sophomore biology and I am forever grateful.  I remember A&P class with Chandra Maloney our senior year in this room too.

After the program, Ty, Jeff, and I stayed for a tour of the campus with our former teachers Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. And  it was nice, but it was then I realized I really wasn't here for the building or even the teachers (as good as they were).  I was here to see my old classmates.  So we cut the tour short and headed over to Sweet Tomatoes to meet up with Pam and Anita and their husbands and children for lunch.

We were there for four hours.  We laughed, shared stories, relived memories, brought each other up to date.  These were friends I'd spent four years with--studying at Anita's house on a Sunday afternoon, talking for hours with Pam on the phone, hanging out with Jeff at Geri's house on the regular, with our cars parked in a neat row on her front lawn.  And these were people that I'd only known in passing--Ty was the tall guy that was friends with J in the dorm.  Yet 25 years later talking to them, to their spouses, and their children I felt I got to know them all in ways I never had when we shared classrooms and teachers.  I saw in the them the familiar struggle we call life--raising kids, caring for aging parents, dealing with tragedy, with endings and new beginnings.  I was reminded that we are all in this together, doing the best we can.  It was good.  And something you just can't get from a status update or vacation pics on Facebook.  I used to think I knew everything I needed to know about my class of 92.  It was all on Facebook right?  But this weekend taught me that there some things you can only learn, a connection you can only gain when you sit down with someone and talk, face to face.

Pamela was one of my first friends at Forest Lake; we met when we were both freshman. I remember being so struck by her kind spirit and I found that hasn't changed in more than 25 years.

Today, I met up with Heather and Jennifer at the Crepevine and again, it was so nice to simply take some time together.  We couldn't have been more different--me, the left-leaning Obama supporter appalled by what's going on the White House these days;  Heather and Jennifer, rejoicing that the Age of Obama has at last drawn to a close, eager to see what the new sheriff in town will set right.  And yet we couldn't have been more the same--we have struggles and sacrifices, love and sorrow.  We have friendship.  That we have in common and it was more than enough to make two hours feel like not enough.  It was time well spent.

With Jennifer Everett Jeffers and Heather Dunkel Rice at CrepeVine.  Jennifer was one of my first friends from the legendary Tampa crew, and Heather was one of my last.  I don't know what they put in the water down there but the Tampa girls were always the coolest!

You know our class never really could get it together.  We never won much of anything (except for Anything Goes our senior year--you would have thought it was the Olympics the way we celebrated).  We were terrible joiners.  We took a kind of perverse pride in our dysfunctional status.  It showed in our "sacred cow" class flag, with a mutated Panther looking far more bovine than feline.  The flag was so unusual and I guess so controversial that it was eventually replaced by a more conventional one that hangs in the gym today.  That's pretty much the class of 92 for you.

 If there was ever a class less stereotypical of seniors, it was the class of 92.  Those who came before us were the epitome of 80's cool (I still can't get over that class of '89. When I was a freshman--those men and women--you couldn't think of them as kids--were so cool. I admit I still feel a little proud that I married one of their number, even if she went to SVA instead of FLA).  We were the first true class of the 90's. Nirvana to their stadium rock.  They had golden locks and burnished skin, the bodies of Greek gods and goddesses, wowing the crowds. We were scruffy, with stringy hair, wearing a ratty sweater, hunched over a beat up guitar, making a noise like no-one ever heard.

 I never, ever got the sense we hated each other.  There were no fights that I knew of.  No enemies or frenemies (well, okay there were--but they were all within circles, not between circles as I recall).  We were just always kind of disconnected.  We had our little Groups, and we weren't against anyone else--we just didn't connect much outside of our circles.  It's why I didn't show up for the 20th.  It didn't seem necessary, I guess.  And maybe it wasn't, but what I found over this alumni weekend, is that it was absolutely worthwhile.

You see we weren't so bad at everything.  In looking through my  journals from our senior year, I was reminded that we put on one of the best Senior class plays anyone had ever seen.  I'd forgotten how good we were at that.  We had an outstanding class trip to Chicago, Tennessee, and Atlanta.  And there was Senior Survival--one of the coldest on record.  It was one of those rare times when I feel like as a class, the walls came down a little bit.  The cold forced it, all that hugging and snuggling that the sponsors simply had to let pass. It was just too damn cold!  But that's when I became friends with Poupa Marashi (she went by Jenny back in those days).  That's when the misfit band of fellows that didn't really "fit" anywhere came together to form the Wild Turkeys (all hail the god of smoke!)--those guys, many of whom I'd never really spent much time with until then became my brothers, and to me, they represented our entire class in microcosm.  A bunch of misfits, thrown together, somehow making it work.  And then there was graduation.  Maybe I'm biased, but I remember our graduation as pretty special (even if the all night "party" after wasn't--with the exception of when Rey and company ripped into "Enter Sandman" for about thirty seconds before the sponsors shut them down).

At our graduation, we decided every class officer would have a chance to speak (I'm sure the audience wished we hadn't).  We all did well, and Mark Reams, in the way that only that wild man could, set a standard for speeches from the president.  It doesn't surprise me at all that he found himself called to gospel ministry.  That passion, that wild heart of his could have only found a Home in one place, in one Person.  I spoke early in the lineup, sharing the office of class historian with Ly Nguyen.  And what I said then, I will say again now:

As a historian, it's my job to look back, to remind our class of our past, of it's weight, it's value.  There are three things from the past that we must always carry with us.  Our friends, our families, and our God.  The latter two we can carry, each on our own.  But the first we can only carry together.  You remember the song that was all over the radio our senior year. "We're one, but we're not the same.  We get to carry each other."   We get to.  We don't have to.  Nobody is making us.  But it's a privilege offered, and one worth taking, I think.  We are busy, we have lives, and kids and work and our own circles, like we always did.  Some of us have stayed in touch, fewer of us have stayed close.  But I gotta tell you there is something to be said for reconnecting with old friends, with getting to know classmates we barely knew existed before.  It's worth noting that some of the people I now count good friends, I spent little time with during our four years at FLA.  Poupa, Paul, Heather are just three that come to mind.

I'm ready to put down the story of our dysfunctional tribe.  I'm ready to write a new story. By the grace of God, I hope in five years we'll still only be down two, and that many of you will choose to come out, reconnect with old friends and  connect with new ones.  And I hope that beyond the 30th  and others that will follow,  I will see  the class of 1992 finally one, when the class is truly and fully whole, all fractures lovingly repaired, and we have all the time in the world.

I love you guys,

Sean

"One life
with each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we're not the same
We get to
 carry each other
carry each other

One. . .life

One"

--U2, "One"

Entitled

About a month or so I came to realization that I'm entitled.

Spoiled.

Demanding.

Entitled.

Usually when we think entitlement we think of the shiftless poor looking for a handout.  We think of kids today who get everything they want and expect a trophy for every non-accomplishment.  We think of a generation of self-centered narcissists who think everything is about them.

But hardworking grown-ups entitled?  Those of us who sacrifice daily for our families?

Yep, us too.

I was listening to the local Christian radio station and they had this little "insight"from a Christian recording artist.  He talked about about how he'd come to the realization of how entitled he was.  He described coming home every day and finding his son's bike parked in the middle of the garage.  Every day he'd have to get out of his truck, move the bike and then pull in.  Every day he'd remind his son to please put his bike away so he wouldn't have to go through this ordeal just to get his truck in the garage.  And yet the next day, he'd find the bike left in the middle of the garage again.  One day as he was about to launch into a terrible tirade at his son over his thoughtless negligence (or maybe it was after the tirade, I can't remember), God spoke to him.  And God reminded him that there were millions of people who would give anything to have a son to leave his bike in the garage every day.  And that's when he realized that all too often he felt convenience and ease were his due, his right. He realized he was entitled.  And as I listened, I realized I was too.

There are three specific things I find I often feel are my due.  They are things I tend to feel that the world, life, God owes me, somehow:

Time
The first thing I tend to feel is my right is time.  I often struggle when things don't go according to plan, when I can't possibly fit everything I want into a single day.  I feel that I should have enough time to get everything done, and I get irritated when I don't have enough time to do it all.  Right now as it approaches 8:30 and I still have laundry to fold and the kids aren't in bed and will surely want Time Together and I need to get to sleep at a decent time but I also want to get this blog in so that I have at  least one entry for the month of February and if I don't get up early enough (which won't happen if I can't get to bed early) it will be another day when the grading didn't get done. ...deep breath. I am tempted to feel the entitled anger that once again I can't get it all done.

The busy life of  a teacher's kid.  Elijah draws in my classroom while I rush to get more stuff done before leaving for home later than I planned.

But I'm learning to realize that time is a gift, not a right. Each day is not promised or owed.  The point of life is not to get it all done, but to simply appreciate living.  Solomon said it well:  enjoy your life, enjoy your wife, your kids, the people you care about in your life.  Enjoy your work.  Because when it's done, it's done.  And there's no one who leaves this earth that doesn't leave something unfinished. In short, I will never get it all done.

Money
I'm self-aware enough to realize that it's absurd to feel entitled to wealth.

Or am I?  I tend to grow frustrated with the slow slog of getting out of debt--one step forward, two steps back it seems.  I'm tired of driving old cars, living in a too-small apartment, always having to pinch pennies, and the constant drip of medical co-pays and bills after insurance and car repairs.  I'm aggravated by taxes, and savings accounts that just don't seem to grow. I tend to feel I should be comfortable, that I shouldn't have to "trust God" all the time with our needs because we just aren't flush.

A full wallet, yet somehow it somehow often feels so empty!

And then the other day, I noticed someone driving by in a beat-up old Chevy sedan and I thought, like the Pharisee at prayer, "Thank God I don't have to ride around in that."  And it hit me.  Who ever said being financially flush was my right? (Especially when I am where I am largely because of my own choices!)  Here I was inclined to gripe about my own situation and yet quick to look down on someone with presumably far greater struggles.  Talk about entitled.

I'm coming to believe that a comfortable life is at best a blessing, and at worst a curse.  Either way, it's  not something I'm entitled to.


Success
I'm not talking about fame or extraordinary accomplishments.  I'm  not talking about accolades or awards.  I'm talking about simply being able to feel that I am doing excellent work.  I'm talking about an organized, engaging classroom, a neat and clean desk.  I'm talking about staying on top of my grading and planning,  I'm talking about reaching and teaching every child.  I'm talking about always being patient and professional and proficient.  That's not too much to ask, is it?

A messy desk and a wall of fame. If I look at the desk, I feel a failure.  If I just look up at 17 amazing classes I've had the privilege of teaching, I feel like the world's greatest success.

It may not be too much to ask or to strive for.  But it is too much to demand.  I'm realizing that I can either let my personal and professional shortcomings dishearten me, or I can recognize them as part of the process of growth, a cost of learning.  I'm learning that success is a process rather than an endpoint.

The Christian recording artist on the radio said that he was learning to cultivate an attitude of gratitude rather than one of entitlement.  "The more grateful you are the harder it is to feel entitled," he said.  And I have to agree.  Over the past month I've been trying to focus on being grateful.  Some days I'm more successful than others, but on balance it's been nothing short of revolutionary.  Those good days--good because of my attitude, not because  of my circumstances--are absolutely wonderful.

I am grateful. . .for time--another day of life with my boys and my best friend for life, Babs. I'm grateful for full days and beauty all around me in gray or blue skies, in an early spring or a late winter.  I'm grateful that my needs are richly provided for, that we have enough to eat.  I'm grateful for a comfort zone and grateful for the need to get out of it.  I'm grateful for the little successes of today and the lessons I'll hopefully learn from my failures.  I'm grateful for the students that have blessed my life: Even if I haven't always been the perfect teacher,  I'm still enriched by the time I've spent with them.  I hope they feel the same.  I'm grateful that I'm loved more than I love.  I'm grateful for the goodness of God.  I'm grateful for grace and for the hope of heaven.

"I can't complain." That's what I usually say when someone asks how things are going.  And I'm realizing:  I really and truly can't.

New Beginnings: Gone but Not Forgotten

I'm feeling a  little nostalgic today, a little emotional.  I've been thinking about a great and wise man who is no longer with us.

No, not this guy.

Although, I admit I am sad to see him go.

No, I've been thinking about this man.

This is my grandfather, William W. Thomson.  Just recently I fell into conversation with one of our officers at the Allegheny West Conference and discovered that he had worked for my grandfather when he was president of the North Caribbean Conference. He shared with me wonderful stories about his time working for my grandpa, and it awakened wonderful memories.  Grandpa was well-known throughout the Caribbean by those of a certain generation and it's not uncommon for me to come across people who knew who he was.  But it's a rare and precious gift to meet people who actually knew him and could share stories of their experiences with him.  And ever since then, Grandpa has been on my mind a lot.  This morning, I actually got a little teary, wishing that I had talked to him more, regretting that I'd somewhat taken him for granted when he was alive and with us (his departure began several years before he died as dementia slowly took him from us).  I wished that I could ask him more questions, hear more stories, spend more time with him.

It's been almost 13 years since he died, and a few years longer since I could have spent time in conversation with him.  But today, the grief felt fresh.

Today is also a day of new beginnings.  Today we welcome someone new into our lives.

No, not this guy.

Not so much rejoicing here, I confess. Resignation, perhaps.

No I was thinking more about my newest nephew, born early yesterday  morning.  I haven't met him yet--it will be a few months yet before I can do that, but I'm excited that he's here, excited to see his life take shape in the years to come.  He, like me, carries a little bit of his great-grandfather.  I hope that little Alex and I will be able to live in such way that someone may someday think of us as great and wise too.

The Tenth Annual Inspirations List: 2016

In a year marked by division, dissension, and disillusion, my heroes were those that stood out for  their strength of character.  They are not a flashy bunch, not inclined to grand gestures or loud pronouncements.  But they are bedrock. Now more than ever we need heroes like these.  Heroes who echo Christ in their kindness, gentleness, humility, joy, generosity, patience, and self-discipline.

This years' heroes are seven men and nine women. They include a trio of young people, a wonderful couple, and a beautiful family.  Most I know personally, but one hero I met only once briefly, and another I've only seen from a distance flanked by secret service and surrounded by an adoring crowd as he gave his stump speech. Yet another hero, was a close friend who I saw every day, but now have seen only once in the past twenty years or so.  And for the second time in ten years of Heroes and Inspirations, I honor someone posthumously.  

There are some unique family connections this year. Father, Mike Wimberly, and son Aaron Wimberly,  are both nominated individually. And Shirley Benton is nominated the year after her daughter, Valerie, made the list.  Between these two ladies, the Wimberlys, and the Proutys it's clear that heroism is a family affair!  I also, for the first time have a hero with back to back nominations.  Way to go, Anastasia!

Together, all of these incredible people have blessed my life this year.  I'm excited to share them with you:

The Prouty Family: Alex, Marga, Genna, Asher, Eva, Joey
Brianna Raymond, Aaron Wimberly, & El-Ryck Kendrick
Michael Wimberly
Beth Michaels
Shirley Benton
Albert & Anastasia Bailey
Pamela Foard Jansen
Barack Obama

Alex, Marga, Genna, Asher, Eva, & Joey Prouty
I'm inspired by their gentle kindness

The Proutys are more than merely nice.  Alex, Marga and their children have a kindness and gentleness that is evident in their words and actions, but goes beyond that.  It is who they are. I've always known Alex and Marga were amazing people, so I guess I shouldn't  be surprised that they produced amazing children as well. During our stay with them in the fall of 2015 and again when they came to Ohio for the Xenia Marathon in April, I was so charmed and so grateful for the warmth they extended to our boys. The Prouty kids are genuinely interested and interesting, and unfailingly polite. I remember Skyping with the Prouty family for the first time and being amazed that their kids sat through the entire conversation and seemed genuinely curious about us.  And when we arrived at their home in Michigan, the kids were waiting in the yard to welcome us.  Once inside, their son Asher and I immediately got into a fascinating conversation, very similar to the types of conversations I used to have with his dad in our younger days. The children are not prone to violence, mean talk, or teasing which  we often write off as "normal" among kids of a certain age. They are confident without being cocky or disrespectful. Alex and Marga hold all of these traits themselves, so it's clear the apples have not fallen far. The entire family is an absolute joy to be around.  Theirs is a house where kindness rules, and being with them you can't help feeling right at home.

Brianna Raymond, El-Ryck Kendrick, & Aaron Wimberly
I am inspired by their appreciation

I can't do my job well if I'm worried about whether I'm liked.  But it sure does feel good to be appreciated.  I've had many students through the years have been an unknowing encouragement through their positive attitude and appreciation for me.  But these three have been that blessing most recently.  Aaron and El-Ryck were part of that very special class of 2012.  Though it's been four years since they left my classroom, these young men regularly remind me of why I love my  job.  Aaron always has a smile for me and I always enjoy his occasional stops by my classroom to visit.  El-Ryck still calls me up at the end of every summer to see if I need help with heavy lifting in setting up my classroom for the year.  Brianna was unique in that I felt this positive regard even while she was my student. Her bright smile, shining personality, and frequent expressions of appreciation made so many days easier for me.  Whenever I'm inclined to think that all my best efforts have fallen flat and that I've not managed to make a dent, much less a difference, these kids remind me that I'm doing all right.  Brianna, El-Ryck, and Aaron inspire me anew to keep doing and being the best I can.

Michael Wimberly
I am inspired by his solid character

Calm. Dependable. Good-natured. Wise.  Ask me to describe Mike Wimberly and those are the words that come to mind.  Over the years I've had the good pleasure of interacting with Mr. Wimberly as I taught his two children, and worked under the leadership of his wife, Angie, our school board chair.  Now that Aaron and Alisa are in high school I don't see Mike quite so often but whenever I do, it's always a pleasure.  In a world where negative stereotypes of black men abound, especially when it comes to the roles of husband and father, Mike explodes those stereotypes.  Furthermore, he is not the exception to the rule when it comes to black men.  I would like to argue--and I'm sure that he would agree--that he is merely representative of the many black men who stand strong, who stand in the gap, who are men of character and integrity, who are men of honor.  I could have named dozens of men just like Mike in my church who defy the categories the media and racist culture would place them in.  But I chose Mike, because I know him best, and can attest that he is the kind of man I aspire to be. You might say I want to be like Mike.

Beth Michaels
I am inspired by her choice to live

She lived right up until she didn't live any more.  I hope I might live fully as Beth seemed to. Most would have said she was dying, that she was losing her battle with cancer. But as we read Beth's Facebook posts and updates, she didn't sound at all like a woman resigned.  She was positive, upbeat, full of life.  And it wasn't just social media posturing. At her memorial we heard more stories of how she had encouraged and blessed even her caregivers during treatment. As I watched from afar Beth joyfully raging against the dying of the light, I was inspired to take stock of how I approached each day.  For in truth, all of us are, in a way, terminal.  Some, like Beth, have been told the time left is definitively short. But the rest of us live each day not knowing if it is our last or if we have months, years, or decades to go.  My goal is to do, each day, what Beth seemed to do right up to her last: Live.

"Life is short. I want to live it well."
                                         -- Switchfoot

Shirley Benton
I'm inspired by her joyful generosity

She radiates joy.  Shirley Benton has seen her share of sorrow in recent years but I have been moved and inspired by her peaceful, joyous soul and her generous spirit towards everyone she meets.  Her generosity isn't measured in dollars per se--though I don't doubt she is generous in that way too--but she is generous with her time, generous with her good will.  As the chair of the board for the  pre-school where my youngest son goes to school I've seen her handle the most demanding of circumstances with grace and patience.  She, along with a small coterie of other ladies, generously donates her time to provide lunch supervision at our school so that we teachers can have a short respite in our teaching responsibilities. I have never seen her complain. If she has an ugly word to say or a piece of idle gossip to pass along, I can't envision  it.  Every time I'm around her I feel valued and appreciated. I suppose it's no surprise that her daughter made this list last year, and now she appears.  It would seem that she has passed her generous heart on to her children (and grandchildren) as well!

Pamela Foard Jansen
I'm inspired by her commitment to fitness

I'm running to keep up with her.  The last time I saw Pamela in person was back in 2011 when we were both running in the Disney Princess Marathon.  I guess I must have found out via Facebook but we managed to meet up briefly in the starting line corrals before the race, and then again after the race.  She was in a higher starting position than I was--it's common practice in the big races to have the fastest runners start first.  I could pretend that this was just because I was running with a group that had trained at a slower pace than I typically ran.  But the truth is that based on the average time for her wave and her finish time, it's unlikely I could have kept up with her.  Neither of us were particularly athletic in high school, where we were very close friends.  We discovered running independently as adults, and I've always admired her running accomplishments.  A little more than three weeks ago Pamela set the pace for a new level of physical fitness for me, when she challenged me to participate in the 22-Day Pushup Challenge.  Once again she was already out in front, already five days into the challenge.  I accepted the challenge and it became the catalyst for a broader commitment to exercise beyond just running.  I'd been feeling the need to diversify my exercise. It turns out Pamela was the just the motivation I needed to make it happen.  I'm pretty sure she's still ahead of me when it comes to fitness, and I may never catch up to her.  But in the process, I'll go farther and do  more than I otherwise would have.

Barack Obama
I'm inspired by his leadership

His term may be over but he still gets my vote. It saddens me that some may find the President's place on this list controversial or "divisive."  I understand that some people see a version of this man that I personally find unrecognizable.  But I can't pretend that President Barack Obama hasn't inspired me more than perhaps any public servant in my lifetime.  His calm demeanor, his personal character, and his belief that it's possible to find common ground with even the staunchest opponents all resonate with me.  There are those who say he was angry, but I found him to be one of the coolest heads in politics.  People said he was divisive, but these days even gentle support for the concerns of black America is interpreted as rabble-rousing, and I found his addressing of racial issues to be incisive yet tactful. Some said he was too liberal, others said he wasn't progressive enough.  I found his center-left approach appealing and refreshing in an age of hyper-partisan politics.  There are those who endured the eight years of his presidency, blaming whatever bad happened on him and imagining what good might have been achieved under a different administration.  I tend not to blame presidents for troubles or credit them for good times. And no president is perfect. I haven''t agreed with his every decision.  Still, what inspires me about President Obama is the grace and humility with which he handled the most powerful office in the land.  I may not hold his power, but I think if I can manage to lead in my classroom the way President Obama has led this country these past eight years,  I'll be doing pretty well.

Albert & Anastasia Bailey
I'm inspired by their welcoming friendship

You would never have guessed they were new in town.  Their house was packed and they seemed to know everyone.  For us, it was such a blessing to be among friends.  It might not seem like much, to have folks over to your house on a winter Sabbath afternoon for good food, and fellowship.  Or to invite a a group of people for a hike at local park. Or plan a spur-of-the-moment play-date for the kids at some new, interesting spot in downtown Columbus.  But those kind of gestures meant the world to us when we first moved to Columbus and  didn't know anyone. Even though they'd lived in Columbus for even less time than we had,  Albert and Anastasia Bailey reached out to us and welcomed us into their world. It was through them that we met many of the people we now call friends here in Columbus.  They were the tent poles of our social world.  The people that met up at the Bailey house came from all walks of life--the  one thing they we all had  in common was our friendship with the Bailey family.  Albert and Anastasia both recognize that hospitality is an important spiritual gift, one often neglected in our busy, heavily social yet highly unconnected society.  They seemed to understand that there's no such thing as virtual hospitality--it has to be practiced in person.  Now that they've moved away, all of us, the friends they gathered, are left trying to figure out who will hold up the tent they pitched.  Meanwhile, in New Jersey I gather their mission continues, to reach out a welcoming hand of friendship to all they come in contact with.

Aware

Everybody loves our veterans.  You might not be particularly enthused about our nations foreign policy or military engagements but every one understands its  not the soldiers fault.  They simply do the job they've signed on to do.  And we are all very proud and we are all very grateful for their service.

But we are  all also somewhat distant from our soldiers.  We kind of have this vague notion that they are out there, somewhere dangerous and foreign, representing and defending our country.   We are too often unaware of what our soldiers  are facing.  I don't think this lack of awareness is intentional.  For one,  the clear-cut wars of old seem to be a thing for the history books.  From Korea on our, all of our wars have been asymmetrical in nature--wars not against another nation-state, but against an ideology--Communism early on, and terror, more recently.  There hasn't been a clear cut enemy that we could all unite against and clearly defeat.   Also, after Vietnam, ours has been all-volunteer army.  The ordinary citizen no longer has reason to feel "that soldier could be me. "  The modern soldier is like a police-officer or fire fighter, a man or woman working in his or her chosen field, rather than a citizen soldier plucked from civilian life and placed on the front lines of battle,.  All of this adds to our sense of disconnection from those who serve in our military.  We are blithely unaware of what they are doing or the sacrifices they are called upon to make.

We tend to think of those sacrifices as that which ends in a flag-draped casket and solemn graveside service.  But I sometimes wonder if there is an even higher price to pay for those who come home physically alive but wounded in body and spirit.  It would be presumptuous of me to speak with any kind of authority on what these men and women go through.  But I think it's important even if I don't  understand what they've been through to be aware, to look for ways to serve those who served us, to give back to those who have given so much.  Some will sneer that doing push-ups doesn't help anyone--and they are right.  But if over the past  22 days I've prompted anyone to do something: to give money, to reach out to a veteran they know, then it hasn't been "just doing push-ups."  Let the people most annoyed by another internet challenge fad be the first to make a real difference by donating their time or resources.  My goal hasn't been to make you do push-ups, my goal has been to draw attention to an issue, that will hopefully spark you to action.

Here's an organization, Disabled American Veterans, that  I'm lending my support to  I invite you to do the same, or find another reputable organization you can get involved with that is working to support our veterans.

Falling Short

So I'm in to the final third of the my second 30-Day Challenge.  So far, I've failed to meet two challenges and a third is looking daunting.  But I'm still glad I tried.

Here's the update:


1. Under Budget. I blasted through the last of my budget this week buying ingredients for a fantastic Mexican spread for the family--homemade salsa, and guacamole, fajitas, tacos with all the fixing, Spanish rice, and enchiladas.  Now granted, I have some extra money because of the refund of our airline tickets when our flight was cancelled, so I now have a source from which to replenish my budget.  But to me that doesn't count as staying under budget.

2.  Read. I have purchased the book The Goldfinch and began reading this week.  It's a lot bigger than I imagined, and at least so far the time to read has been less than I thought.  If  Donna Tartt is as good as I remember the reading should go quickly. Then again one of the blurbs on the back praised the book as Dickensian, which would not imply a quick read.  We will see.

3. Write.  I missed  two days--this past Sunday, when we ended up driving all afternoon and all night to get to Florida, and again this past Thursday when the time just got away from me. The truth is I missed a day during the November 30-Day writing challenge--also due to travel--but because I had specific writing prompts, I just "caught up" later.  Without the prompts, a day missed is a day missed.  I'm finding this month's 30 days more difficult though.  The prompts made it easy.  Without them, I tend to forget until just before bedtime that I'm "supposed to write."  Many days I don't "feel like" writing.  But I still value the discipline, and even though I missed a day, I still feel successful because writing is now a regular part of my life.

4. Rest.  My phone and laptop free Sabbaths have been good. I've gone four Sabbaths now without social media and e-mail and it's been nice.  I have found, at least the past two Sabbaths that I've gotten "busy" with other things and haven't noticed the restfulness of the break from the internet as much.  I think this challenge will become a regular practice in my life after the 30 days are over.

5. Push-ups.  I'm at day 21 today and have one day left to go.  Monday was really the only day where I struggled to finish, due a new stance I tried. I definitely want to continue doing push-ups once this challenge is over.

Third Person: "One for All"

This is the last in a series of very short pieces of Christmas fiction that I did several years ago.  I held off on publishing this one for awhile.  I'm not sure why.  Perhaps it seemed a little dark for the season.  ()Though now that I think about it, none of the stories are exactly warm with comfort and joy. ) But I've decided to go ahead and post it now.  It is dark.  But there's light at the end, I think.  

You can click on the links to read the companion pieces from 2012: "Did You  Hear What I Heard?", "First Served", and "Wanted: One Good Shepherd"  To be honest, I'm kind of proud of them!

This is not what I signed up for. I expected to fight and kill men; but this?  This. . .

But my job is to follow orders, not to question them.  So I did as I was commanded.  That is my job. And if I am to have the kind of career that I want to have in the military I must follow orders.  Eventually if all goes as planned, I will someday be a commander in the Roman army, a centurion, perhaps and I will give the orders.  Then, I can assure you, I will not order the death of the defenseless, I will not preside over the execution of the innocent.

What I wish is that we could have found him.  So many could have been spared if we'd only know where to find him, if we'd only known where to look.  One town is too broad a net, it allows for too much. . .collateral damage.  Yes, that's the word we use.  It makes what we do seem defensible, at least to those who give the orders.  For those of us who have to live with what we have done it provides as much comfort as a baby blanket provides protection from a sword--a flimsy shield.

Somewhere, the child lives, of this I'm sure.  Will he be a threat to the throne? I doubt it.  But if we had found him.   It haunts me every time I shut my eyes, this idea. One life for the many. One cut down so that all the others could live.

Time Together

"Daddy are we going to have our Time Together?"

For the past few years, this has been the question from my boys whenever there is a change in our daily routine--when we've come home late or have been traveling.  Usually, the answer is a grudging yes. Invariably I have list of things to do that could easily take me into the early morning hours and I am itching to get started.  But before I can do that, there must be: Time Together.

They don't mean time together, which might include cleaning his room or washing the car together.  They don't even mean me reading a story to them. They mean Time Together and this has a very specific meaning.  Time Together, which is always 15 or 20 minutes before bed is when we play (even if we play together earlier in the day that doesn't count as Time Together--it has to be before bedtime).  With Elijah, most of the time we are playing the inscrutable games of childhood, stories involving his stuffed animals or his My Little Pony collection,  which I often have a hard time following.  It can be very frustrating trying to make sense out of and keep up with a nonsensical game.  With Ezra, we'll play similarly opaque games with his Hot Wheels cars, do jigsaw puzzles, or color. I've tried suggesting activities that I might enjoy more (like the above mentioned reading them a story) but these ideas rarely meet their criteria for Time Together (one exception is that both boys are more than willing to count watching videos or playing Farmville or other games together on our devices, but in the end I think we all sense that this isn't really true Time Together).

Elijah has had Time Together for years now, but Ezra has only become involved in the last year or so.  On most nights, the goal is that I have Time Together with one son while the other is reading with their Mom, and then we switch.  Elijah prefers this as Ezra doesn't play the games the way Elijah likes.  On occasion, if Babs is away in the evening, or she is unable to be with the other child for some reason, both sons have their Time Together at the same time.  Ezra likes this, although he often wants to do his own thing so I ended up literally doing two different activities with the boys at the same time--solving a jigsaw while at the same time solving a mystery with the Ponies, and both boys getting annoyed if they feel I'm not paying proper attention to their activity.

From our Time Together tonight, December 11, 2016. Usually we are in their bedroom but for someone reason they wanted to come out to the living room.  Maybe it was the tree?

Elijah as usual calling the shots on what's happening during our play in Time Together. Couple of things to note here:  We do not have a My Little Pony (or MLP as we refer to it around here) theme for our Christmas tree (though Elijah would love that).  In fact we put up the tree last Sunday but haven't gotten around to decorating it.  The ponies in the tree were part of the game which involved some sort of building of high-rise rooms according to Elijah. You may also note that we are now the only family left in America that does not yet have a flat-screen TV.  The old 1-Ton TV has never stopped working and I can't bring myself to go spend money to replace a TV that works. We don't use the VCR on top of the TV. It's just sitting there, unconnected.

Honestly, while I love being with my sons, Time Together can be a little stressful.

Time Together fell away for awhile when Elijah started first grade.  Elijah was staying up later, While his little brother was being put to bed, he did his homework, and then had cozy time with his Mom while I spend valuable time on my school work--planning for the next day and entering grades.  There wasn't really time for Time Together, and he voiced no complaint.  But  I found I'd begun to miss that Time.  So, one night while Barbara was in the boys' room with Ezra, I called Elijah over to the living room for some Time Together.  His eyes lit up with joy.  He raced to his room to gather an armful of stuffed animals so the playing could begin.  His happiness was undeniable; our Time Together was back! And so it's been more or less a part of our schedule again since.

I guess I realized that our Time Together is limited.  There will come a day that they'll lose interest in that kind of Time. While playing together brings them so much joy, I feel I can't afford to miss a single minute of our Time Together.

And what's true of Elijah, Ezra and me, is true for all those we love.  It's important to have that Time Together.

The Face of Jesus

 A few weeks ago I came across this article about describing how forensic anthropologists have determined what Jesus looked like. 

Initially, instinctively, I almost recoiled at the picture.  He was just so. . .ordinary looking.  And why did they make Him have that kind of "deer-in-headlights" look?  Couldn't they have done more to make him look wise rather than a bit flummoxed? Couldn't they have had him smiling at least, made Him look more inviting? Where was the charisma? Where was the charm?

And then I remembered: "He had no beauty or majesty that we should be attracted to Him, nothing in His appearance that we should desire Him. He was despised and rejected of mankind, a man of suffering and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces, he was despised and we held Him in low esteem" Isaiah 53:2-3

And I realized:  Never mind the science, this may be the most Biblically accurate picture of Jesus we've ever seen.  As I continued to study the picture, I was struck by the extent to which we have sought to remake Christ not even in our own image, but in the image of our idols.  Even after he came, lived a peasants life and died a criminal's death, we still want a conquering hero, a good-looking man that reflects the pinnacle of our cultural values.  That idolatry becomes so lodged in our faith, that it becomes almost sacred. But this picture. . .this picture demands that we see Jesus as he declared Himself to be rather than what we would wish him to be.

I was also reminded anew through this picture, that Jesus truly became a human being.  That somewhat blank gaze is that of a real man.  Someone who got tired, hungry, distracted, dazed.  And I was able imagine that face laughing, crying, angry, and at peace. I imagined how one could sense divinity not in his charismatic mug, but shining through his ordinary face. More than any of the cute little Baby Jesuses that we see in Nativity scenes this time of year, in this picture I saw the Incarnation.

Finally, I was awed and humbled and amazed by the familiar Gospel story,

Read the article in Popular Mechanics for details on how they developed this image.  Despite certain caveats, I think you'll find the science seems pretty sound.

"Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of Earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace"

Progress

I just thought I'd post an update on my challenges for this month, a list that has now grown to five!

1. Under Budget:  Not good. I'm down to $143 left for my share of the monthly food budget and it's only December 6. There's a potluck on Sabbath so that will save some (but I still have to come up with something for Saturday night since we won't have leftovers). Babs picked up some groceries for me tonight so our budgets got mixed, so I'm not sure how much I spent.  I can't fairly charge it all to her budget.  This is just a tough month.  But I'm going to keep trying.

2. Read.  Haven't gotten my book yet, but truthfully I'm not really planning to start reading until we go on break.

3.  Rest.  This past Sabbath was my first electronic-free Sabbath.  It wasn't too bad.  I definitely felt a little withdrawal on Friday  night when the sun set.  I was surprised by how much I'd come to rely on "checking my phone" every few minutes.  But overall I acclimatized quickly.  After all, this is a habit that I've only had for literally five years, since I got my first Galaxy SII.  I found that being off my devices made me more attentive to my family. Babs definitely noticed and appreciated how "present" I was.  I went to bed a lot earlier than I would normally have on Friday night (though I didn't get up any earlier--I guess I was wiped out from the week).  I also found that I did spend more time in spiritual contemplation. It's not like I was in deep Bible study or anything like that. But often on Sabbath afternoons I'll plan to read AFM's Frontiers magazine.  So I'll lie down on the couch, with my phone and my magazine.  I'll start scrolling through Facebook and either fall asleep, or not, but either way  never get around to reading the magazine. This time I was able to read some great articles--the stories of Adventist Frontier Mission's frontline missionaries always feed my soul.

Finally when the sun set Sabbath evening, to my surprise, I didn't feel the need to immediately jump on my phone.  The challenge will continue next Sabbath.

4. Write Now.  I have written every day since December 1st.  I wrote in my journal Friday night, worked on my book entry for my blog Saturday night, worked on my gun entry Sunday night, and worked on the Point of Impact reboot last night.  That last one is coming along nicely. I've sketched out the action on the first two acts of the play.  I'll do the other two next Monday and then I'll be ready to start writing dialogue!

5. Mission 22.  My friend Pamela added this to my challenge list when she asked me to do 22 push-ups for 22 days to raise awareness for veteran suicide.  I'm enjoying the challenge though it's not yet easy for me.  And I'm proud to do my small part to draw attention to the plight of so many of our vets who pay the highest price in the service of our country--even when they make it back home. Each day I remember these men and women and pray for them. But as one website points out awareness is only valuable if it leads to meaningful action. I hope that this challenge will actually encourage people to seek ways to help our soldiers, through educating themselves and supporting organizations such as this one that help our veterans.  That's what I'm trying to do along with my daily 22.  Several of my former classmates and former students have served or are currently serving in the armed forces. I'm proud of them, and I want to do what I can to support them and their comrades in arms that have sacrificed so much.

Gun Thoughts

I did not "grow up around" guns, but some of my best friends did, and thanks to them I've had the opportunity to try shooting all kinds of guns--handguns, shotguns, hunting rifles, and yes even the so-called assault rifles, including the AR-15.  When I was in high school, we used to go out in the country and shoot at targets.  I remember particularly the fun we had demolishing our Spanish II textbook when the class was over, as well as a teddy  bear my friend's ex-girlfriend had given him.

I had a good time.  I'll admit I wasn't the most proficient shooter and didn't always handle my friends' weapons with the caution and respect they deserve--I was young and careless in the way of adolescents.  But I own that, and wouldn't consider making my stance on the issue of guns dependent upon my own lack of ability or judgement.

I spent a good portion of this past summer listening, thinking, and researching this issue. Then I began drafting the ideas for this post.  Finally, I let this blog lie dormant all through the fall before picking it up again this week and fleshing it out.  I've made it a point to really try to understand where people who see things differently than me are coming from.  I've read a lot, watched video screeds advocating one position or another.  I studied the data, and I have to say  I'm skeptical of "data." It's very difficult to get accurate information, because unless you really look into the raw data, most of the time the information you are being given is being "spun" to promote a specific point of view. I think most of us would do well to start challenging our own beliefs and looking at "data" that supports our point of view more skeptically. The more "honest" your source is about it's position on the issue the more doubtful you should be of the accuracy of its data.

I'm finding that most of the facts, or more accurately, what I assumed to be factual, in my support for gun control were called into question by close examination of the data. At the same time, the converse assumptions made by my pro-gun friends didn't prove to have more factual support. either. Both sides have tended to "cherry-pick" the data that supports their point of view.

So where do I end up?  I've boiled the issue down to two conclusions that cover where I stand on the contentious issue of guns in America.

1. I believe in the second amendment. Gun control advocates should start defending the second amendment not "attacking" it. My pro-gun friends tend to focus on the "right to keep and bear arms." Almost forgotten is the first part of the amendment, "a well-regulated militia." I believe there is no downside to increased regulation, even if does not mean fewer guns. Surely, if we require drivers to have license, we could ask the same of a gun owner. Guns, like their predecessors, the bow and arrow, the sword, the spear, are weapons.  In other words they are specifically designed for killing--animals a lot of the time, but also people when the need arises.  Cars, knives, fertilizer, can be used for killing but weren't designed for solely for that purpose.  Further guns are more efficient at killing than swords or spears.  That's why we're using them far more than the weapons that came before them.  High levels of regulation and training should be a must.

2.The problem isn't (entirely) the presence of guns. Guns don't kill people, people kill people.  This is a standard argument of the pro-gun camp, and you know what, after a lot of reflection, I've to come to accept the truth of it. To a point, anyway. I still feel fewer guns would mean fewer gun deaths, and in my perfect world, that's what I would prefer.  But I am convinced that the biggest problem in our country is not so much with the number of guns, but with our nation's gun culture.  Gun culture is entrenched in American culture. It's an integral part of our self-image as a nation It can't be legislated away. The bottom line for me is that it's never been about the criminals. Gun-rights supporters are correct that criminals will get their hands on guns regardless of the laws (though if we're being honest, easier availability of guns for law-abiding citizens logically makes it easier for criminals, especially low-level criminals to get access to guns. It stands to reason that if an environment where getting guns is extraordinarily difficult, only the most organized and deeply involved criminals would have the connections to the black market or whatever to get the weapons). It's the law-abiding citizens that worry me. Because many times, especially in these mass shooting events, the shooter was a law abiding citizen right up until the point where he or she wasn't one anymore. My stance on gun control has been what it is for 23 years now because of one scary Saturday night in the summer of 1993 that could have been been Sunday morning headlines but for the grace of God and some incredibly fortuitous timing.

(And here I realize the futility of convincing anyone with this line of argument. No non-criminal gun owner wants to consider himself or herself as a possible danger.)

In conclusion: Because I support the second amendment, I will continue to support so called "common-sense" legislation that raises the standard for gun ownership in this country, even as I believe that marginal laws will bring about marginal results, due in large part to our national gun culture. I do think change is possible though. What I would hope for is a gradual change in the our cultural self-image, similar to what is happening with not smoking and acceptance of homosexuality, where more and more people freely choose to go without guns, not because they are compelled by law but because they simply don't have the desire.

My Choice

Given my view on the issue it's not hard to predict my personal decision for my family: I choose not to own a gun.

The likelihood that I can prevent death in my home with a gun,I believe, is statistically outweighed by the likelihood that the presence of a gun in my home could lead to a death. For me, buying a gun to protect my family against home invasion is akin to refusing to fly for fear of a plane crash, but getting in my car and driving on the freeways every day. It's making a choice based on a fear of a highly unlikely event and choosing to take a chance on something that is far more likely to happen. I have to drive the freeways. But I don't have to own a gun and for me, the small chance that I'll need one isn't worth the possible price.

My Best Books

When I first started this blog, it began with the word "A few days."  Then after delaying publication for awhile, I changed it to start with "A few months."  Now, at last ready to post, I begin with:

A few years ago my friend (and parent of two former students) Elizabeth Towns posted a request for people's list of their top ten favorite books.  I thought about it and dashed off a list of ten on my phone's ColorNote app within an hour of seeing Elizabeth's post.  I had planned to comment on her post, but never got around to transferring the list.

In the meantime,I've come to realize that there's some commentary that I'd like to add that would be longer than appropriate in a comment on a months old Facebook post.

I've always been a voracious reader, since I was a child and would read until my head hurt and I'd wake from fevered jumbled dreams of all the stories I'd be consuming in great literary gulps.

But I've never been inclined to own many books.  I typically read a book once and that's it.  There are a few that I'd read again (even though most I haven't).  The following ten books definitely meet that criteria:

The Top Ten

10.  Game Change: Obama and the Clintons, McCain and Palin and the Race of a Life Time by Mark Halperin

This book was an absolutely fascinating read.  It's one of the few non-fiction book I've ever read that I couldn't put down.  I particularly enjoyed the window into the non-public personas of these very public figures.

9.  The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan

I first read Joy Luck during Christmas break of my freshman year of college.  I guess it was just lying around the house.  I loved the multiple perspectives of the eight key characters (four mother-daughter pairs) and appreciated how Tan managed to draw those many stories together around a central theme and plot line.  I taught this book for years as 9th grade literature teacher and so have read it many times.

8.  Among Schoolchildren by Tracy Kidder

This is another book that was a staple of my freshman students' reading list. I was encouraged to read Among Schoolchildren by my favorite English professor in college, Dr. Georgina Hill.  She knew I was contemplating a career in teaching and thought I'd find it illuminating.  I did. Kidder follows fifth grade teacher Christine Zajac for a school year and chronicles the challenges and joys of her experience. This book, now over 25 years old, is as timely as ever. More than any other book I've read, Among Schoolchildren, accurately captures the experience of being a teacher.

7.  The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

I read The Poisonwood Bible only once but it really stuck with me. It tells the story of a family of Baptist missionaries led by the severe and fanatical Nathan Price as they struggle to make a life in the Belgian Congo.  The story follows the four daughters as they grow up and deal with the consequences of their father's decisions.  I read the Poisonwood Bible while a missionary myself and found it a compelling cautionary tale of the damage that religious zealotry can do.  At the time I was also listening to Live's early 90's album Mental Jewelry and I found it to be the perfect "soundtrack" to the book, with even specific songs coincidentally seeming to match specific stories in the book.


6.  The Secret History by Donna Tartt

The Secret History was the first "contemporary" adult novel I ever read. My friend Carissa Berard (now Cotta) introduced me to the book, and while I feel like I now need to read it again to really speak on it's quality, I know that at the time I found it gripping, the characters compelling and complex.  It's on the list because I've never forgotten it.

5.  The Egyptian by Mika Waltari

During my freshman year of high school I somehow came into possession of a box-full of faux-leatherbound classics.  "A Tale of Two Cities", "The Hunchback of Notre Dame", and "The Count of Monte Cristo"--maybe a dozen all together, plus a small collection of old detective stories (Agatha Christie and similar authors).  In the same way that I typically make it my goal to read Time magazine cover to cover each week, I decided that I would take up the task of reading every book in the collection.  Many were good of course--I guess that's how they became Great Books--but my favorite was The Egyptian.  I'm not sure how it ended up in the collection as it's not a book you typically hear much about, but it was fascinating--a sprawling epic.  I felt like I learned so much about ancient Egyptian history and culture, particularly the true story of ancient Egypt's brief flirtation with monotheism under the rule of the eccentric pharaoh Akenaten .  He single handedly tried to dismantle the polythesistic worship centered around the god Amen and replace it with sole devotion to the god of the sun's disc, Aten.  Famous names from ancient Egypt like Nerfirtiti (Akenaten's queen) and King "Tut" Tutakhenamen (Akhenaten's successor) all make appearances and come to life vividly.

4. U2 at the End of the World by Bill Flanagan

As I've shared on this blog, U2 are one of the few artists I am a personal fan of (as opposed to merely a fan of their work).  For a fan, this book detailing U2's journey during the critical years of their musical reinvention culminating in the Achtung Baby album and ensuing Zoo TV world tour, is a page-turner.  Speaking as fan, I the book helped me understand and admire the band more than any other source.  Even for a non-fans, I think readers will find this book immensely readable and hard to put down as Flanagan in short, punchy chapters illuminates what it's like to be members of the biggest band in the world trying to balance their faith, artistic integrity, family and personal commitments with the demands of stardom.

3.  No Compromise: The Life Story of Keith Green by Melody Green

This was another book that I had my freshmen read during my years  teaching 9th grade English. It's not on anybody's canon, but I liked to have a mix of fiction and non-fiction on my reading list, and I wanted a biography.  This book has captured me since I first read it in the summer of  1996, on the recommendation of my friend Clari Worley.  I've read it probably a dozen times since and I never tired of it.  This true story of one remarkably gifted man's search for God and his passionate devotion once He found Him has never failed to move and inspire me.


2.  A Prayer for Owen Meaney by John Irving

I first read this book sometime in 1998, either right before or right after we moved to Saipan.  It was like no other book I'd ever read.  Funny, insightful, deep, and deeply moving. It had a strong spiritual heart and some striking Christian symbolism, yet it was definitely not intended to be a Christian novel.  It was too edgy, too irreverent to ever fit that category (something I was reminded of when, having forgotten some of the more NSFC [Not Suitable For Church] moments in the novel, I introduced it to my first freshman literature class.  The students loved it as much as I did, but I knew it probably wouldn't be wise to keep teaching the book).  Maybe that's part of why I love the book--because it defies easy categorization and oversimplification.  I eventually read most of Irving's other books and they were good too, but none as good as A Prayer for Owen Meaney.  I haven't read the book in many years, and I'm not even sure where my copy is.  But it still officially holds the title of my Favorite Book.

1. Steps to Christ by Ellen White

This little book takes the number one spot, because it has been a touchstone of my life for many years now.  Next to the Bible, it has probably had a strongest impact on my spiritual life.  It outlines in the simplest term what it takes to come to know Jesus and enter into a saving, vibrant relationship with him.  Ellen White gets kind of a bad rap among my generation--many of us have been beaten over the head by her little red (and now little read) books growing up and find her intimidating.  But this book carries none of the "Testimonies to the Church" type counsel that can cause such consternation.  It is a simple, clear, affecting guide to knowing Jesus.  There are so many beautiful passages that make it so clear that knowing Jesus is a freeing, joyful experience. I've made it a habit to share the book (in small doses, as the 19th century language can be a little dense) with my students every other year for morning worship.  One of my goals is to help my students come to know Christ, and I can think of no better guide.



Honorable Mention: The Krakauer Effect

Jon Krakuer's books have a way of troubling my soul--in a good way I think.  This trio:

Into the Thin Air, a riveting first-person account of the disaster on the slopes of Mt. Everest in 1996 that took the lives of eight climbers.

Under the Banner of Heaven, a story of the consequences of a faith so blind that it turns violent.  This book probably shook my faith  more than anything I've ever read, but ultimately left it stronger in the end. (You can read how going through the struggle inspired me to see Abraham and Isaac in a whole new way in this very old post on my now mostly defunct Faith Journey's blog.

 and Into the Wild, a fascinating investigation into the wandering life and strange death of Chris Mcandless in the Alaskan wilderness. (You can read my review from my definitely defunct blog Maycock Media Mix here--I think the links till works.  I learned after a few years I barely have time for one blog much less three or four!)

 All three books will get under your skin, make you think, and challenge you. I highly recommend them.

Write Now

Maybe it's a little too soon to say this, but I think this past month has been revolutionary for me.  The 30-Day Writing Challenge really did jump start my writing again.  Now that I've been writing every day for a month, I don't want to stop!  I take such pleasure in putting words and sentences and paragraphs together to say something unique and meaningful, to express myself.  Writing daily, I've become more aware of my writing habits--some of which aren't so great--and I've been taking steps to improve my writing.

I've also been reminded that writing while often a pleasure, is also just as often a discipline. I'll never finish anything of consequence if I only write "when I feel inspired."  I learned that back in 2008 when I finally finished the novel I'd been tinkering with for the previous four years. It took me six weeks. But I wrote, whether I wanted to or not, for 4 to 6 hours, every single day (Ah, the days before kids when such feats were possible). During this past month it was like that again.  Not writing was not an option.

I now feel optimistic about my various writing endeavors.  I think I'll be able to get back to posting at least once, maybe twice a week on my blog.  One of the things that held me back for the past few years, was the need to write the perfect, utterly original and insightful blog post. My ideas for entries always seemed overwhelming and I never felt like I had time to actually create those posts. During this past month, I realized that the important thing is to write, not to get it perfect.  I'm also working on a play for a new drama ministry my colleague Wayna and I have started. It's a reboot of Point of Impact, the play I co-wrote with Galvin Guerrero over 14 years ago. I sat down to start sketching out some ideas this past Monday and ended up writing for over an hour!  There's still a lot of work to do, and I know it won't be easy, but I'm excited. Last, I feel like I'm getting closer to beginning work on my second book, one that will tell the story of the hardest and best year of my life--my ten months as a student missionary in Chuuk. For a long time I've felt this is a story that needs to be told, and I think it's about time I got to work on it.

So here's the deal: I'm moving directly into a second 30 day writing challenge.  This one won't be a blogging challenge. Instead my focus will be to do some sort of writing every single day for the month of December (I'm giving myself one day "off" so it's still 30 days. I haven't decided what day that will be or if I'll even take it.).  I will be maintaining that  one or two entries a week.  I think it's important to make finishing something a necessity.  Otherwise you can end of up tinkering with one sentence for 15 minutes and tell yourself that you "wrote" today.  That's fine occasionally, but if it becomes a habit, you've started fooling yourself.  Requiring a finished product regularly keeps me honest.  I'll be working on the play for sure, as I want to have it done before our drama group returns from our holiday break in January.  I'll be continuing to work on some longer blog entries--ones that can't be finished in a single day.  And on Friday nights when I'm taking a break from my laptop, I will write in my pen and paper journal (now in it's 49th volume!).

Whatever I work on though, the goal will be to write. Now.