The man before the miracle

Bet'cha can't go six months of consistent church going and sermon-listening before you'll hear some adaptation and some way of working in the feeding of of the five thousand into a message, if it's not the central theme of the message. It's one of the more popular "go to's". But I got to wondering this morning how often the part just before that admittedly incredible and multi-layered miracle is talked about and thought about. In Matthew, the story of the feeding of five thousand starts in chapter 14 verse 15.

But in that very same chapter, in verse six, Matthew writes about the beheading of John the Baptist. Jesus thought a lot of John. So much so that Jesus not only allows, but insists that John be the one to baptize him. What I'm saying is that John meant an awful lot to Jesus. So as Matthew tells it, the daughter of Herodias gets anything she wants for her birthday. To her credit, she does not ask for a pony or Miley Cyrus tickets, instead she asks for John's head on a platter. Malibu Barbie it ain't. But since Herodias' daughter gets what she wants, John the Baptist is beheaded. Then Jesus is told and he is understandably upset. So much so that he "withdrew by boat to a solitary place" (verse 13). But by this point in Jesus' life he had enough of a paparazzi like crowd that going to a "solitary place" usually didn't last very long. Matthew says the crowds followed him - the poor guy just lost one of his best friends, he's crushed and wants to be alone, and he can't even get a few minutes to mourn. That crowd that chased him down ended up being the five thousand that he fed in the more talked about miracle. But the point is that Jesus wanted...needed alone time. Of course, being Jesus he set aside his need for solitude and helped to feed five thousand people. But he knew he needed to experience the pain instead of shrugging it off with the fact that he had a bigger mission in mind. He's about to save salvation but he's human enough to take time to hurt.

The same thing happens in John's gospel with the resurrection of Lazarus. When word gets to Jesus that Lazarus is sick and it's not looking good, he is told "Lord, the one you love is sick" (John 11:3). Something else bad is about to happen to someone Jesus is awfully fond of. Jesus knows the entire time - from the moment he hears that Lazarus is sick to moment the subsequent miracle is complete - what is going to happen. If I knew the ending of a movie, I'm probably not going to get overly emotional in the middle of it. Not Jesus, he knows how this movie ends, but he gets very emotional. Verse 33 tells us that when Jesus sees Lazarus' sisters Mary and Martha in mourning and hurting that Jesus became "deeply moved in spirit and was troubled." He knows what's about to happen - why he's come there - but he empathizes with Mary and Martha and the surrounding Jews. He doesn't look at them condescendingly and tell them "Hey, I'm Jesus ain't I? What're you crying about you know I got this!" It's not like it was unlike Jesus to take that kind of tone with people, he often showed frustration with the disciples when they're wide angle lense wasn't quite working. But despite that, he is moved with these people. Two verses later, he's moved to the point that he "wept" (verse 35). In verse 38, he became "once more deeply moved". He then raises Lazarus from the dead and the glory of God is witnessed. It was the intention the entire time. But Jesus did not lose his humanity in the process of being a member of the Trinity knowing he was in the middle of a miracle.

Two miracles, maybe the two cornerstone miracles in Jesus' ministry, yet they were flanked by his vulnerable humanity. I took comfort in that this morning when I saw one of my best friend's little girl. She had her hair in pig tails and was quite frankly adorable. After I let the cuteness process fully, the very next thought in my head was the day that my friend Abbie asked her mother to fix her hair for her before school. Abbie was around seven years old and for all I know, she had asked her mother to put it in pigtails too. Abbie grew up in Vermont and there was ice on the road that morning. The hairdo made her mom late for work, she drove over a patch of ice, hit a truck and was killed. For the rest of Abbie's life, according to Abbie, that hair request killed her mother. So when all of that started coming back I had to excuse myself from the sanctuary right about the time the message was about to start. As far as I know, Will didn't preach on either the feeding of the five thousand or the resurrection of Lazarus. But I just had to get out of there for a minute.

Part of me was wondering, "I thought you were over this? You're still affected? You're in Seminary and you don't know by now?" But that's not at all what it was about. Jesus knew and he still needed to get away for a moment...fleeting as it was. Jesus knew and he still wept and was moved with Lazarus' friends and family. So I eventually decided that simply because I miss my friend and wish she hadn't gone through what she went through doesn't mean that I've forgotten about my salvation or have lost faith. Christians are just as entitled to mourn as anyone else. I didn't wallow in this feeling for days and days. I stepped outside, got some air, looked up these two miracles and went on about my day. But just because you're a Christian and you understand and have faith doesn't mean that you shouldn't experience pain. I'm not talking about not having troubles. I'm talking about the people who think that it's a sin to not have a perma-smile regardless of the situation simply because you believe. The difference is you don't want to stay in that "valley" for long, but you are entitled to experience - not deny - your emotions. Jesus clearly did, it's what made him human.

"Come on up for the risin'..."

Someone mentioned to me the other day, "it seems like a long time since y'all have put anything up on your blog." Ok, that's not true. We took a trip and I thought that it's been a long time since we put anything up. And I'm reading this book about story and thought it would make for a better story if someone else suggested I write about our trip. The rest of this will be true and real...promise.

If you're reading this you probably know that Lindsay's crazy go nuts for musicals. Watching them, singing songs from them, being in them, whatever. So in trying to come up with something original and unique for Christmas, a trip to New York and a Broadway show came to mind. Clearly (to me) this was God encouraging me to pursue my wife's heart because volunteering to go to New York City is something I would have never....ever...ever done otherwise. I told Lindsay about a year ago that I would lay down my life for her. Shortly after that, I heard a voice say, "Then why don't you?" So this is was me trying to actually do that.

It was a hit. When she figured out (Christmas morning) where were going, she teared up a little bit. Before we even packed our bags, it was already worth it. We get up there and it takes (literally) 2 1/2 hours to get from the Newark airport to our hotel. Not a great start. The weather started out chilly and turned to brutally, unforgiving-ly cold (wind chill of 2 degrees on Tuesday). We threw our bags in the room and walked a couple of blocks down to Times Square. Good....Lord. I'll be honest, everything I was afraid I wasn't going to like about New York City, was right here. And to be fair, it wasn't the natives. It was the tourists (darn them). Here's my impression of Times Square: one big freakin', continuous billboard. Good thing we did some other stuff while we were there.

The next day we went up to Central Park. To give you some perspective, Central Park is probably bigger than my hometown. Let alone the rest of the city. Anyway, it's huge. We only covered half of it. You really do almost forget (just for a moment) what surrounds you on each side of the park. Then you pick a direction, look up, and see skyscraper after skyscraper and it all comes back to you. After finding as many movie landmarks as we could think of ("When Harry Met Sally"), we headed back to the south end of the city. Next on our sightseeing list was something I was never sure how to feel about seeing.

That is the skeleton of what will be the biggest statement a building has ever made. I wasn't sure what to do. The entire time we had been in the city, before we even crossed the bridge into the state, I kept seeing it happen. "I wonder what it looked like from here?" "I wonder what it was like to stand here and watch it?" "What if you were driving this way and saw it, what would've gone through your mind?" One of my only regrets about going to New York City is that I didn't go (chose not to go) before. I saw it on tv. I still see it in my mind, but I wished I had seen it before, so I could truly understand what's missing. Tollie understands what's missing. He was a volunteer in the memorial museum right across the street from where they stood. By the way, being down there and seeing just how cramped together everything is, how it didn't take out everything in sight, is one of the ways that I know God really was there, even though it's easy to miss Him through it. Anyway, Tollie wasn't there that day. His brother was. Tollie was a fireman and part of the clean-up/recovery effort. He came Friday the 14th. Lindsay told him about her dad and how he was a volunteer fireman back home, and his 60th birthday was coming up. I asked if volunteering in the memorial...museum for lack of a better word...helped. He said it depends on the day. He told us about the one time he was leading a tour. He stopped to point out something on the tour and when he turned, he saw it. He saw the mountain of...think of the worst thing imaginable....that's what it was a mountain of. And the people on the tour stood there and waited, while he went through this flashback. A moment or two later, he resumed. He understands too damn well. Earlier when I mentioned wondering what it looked like from different angles, I can't help but think of one guy who made it out. Who looked up from his work and saw this plane bearing down on him. Part of the wing sliced through his office. I bet there are days he wonders if surviving, trying to sleep with that vision really was a blessing. You move through this museum where there's a time line of that day and the bombing in '93. Then there's a room where they've displayed some of the things recovered. A spoon from one of the restaurants inside, a flier for something, and elevator button, a window to one of the planes. Yeah. There's a window frame to one of the planes on display. Imagine looking out that window, and realizing, it's over. Then in that same room is a fire suit. It is torn down the right shoulder. From the shoulder all the way down to the bottom. That's how the body was found. If you think reading this is graphic, if you think seeing it in a museum is graphic, try being Tollie. Try being in his mind during one of his flashbacks. That's graphic. But it's important. I'm not one of those who thinks you should watch it everyday to remind yourself of the lesson we supposedly learned (and have seemingly totally forgotten-the one about loving each other more). It's important because there are stories to be told. Stories cut short. Stories of amazing survival and miraculous second chances. Stories of unimaginable pain. New York is not a city that is defined by what happened on that day. The day after or the day after. New York is defined by the fact that 10 years later, they're well underway with rebuilding. More than just a building. I shook Tollie's hand as he walked out the door, he remembered to wish my father-in-law a happy upcoming 60th birthday. I thought as he left the room and that particular scene in our lives, "of all the things for him to remember, he remembered that Larry's turning 60 this year. That must've been a nice little escape for him. I hope the rest of his memories become that easy to live with."

When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.

I've been trying to come up with a word to describe her. Joy is the one I keep coming back to. The title of this particular blog is from Psalm 94:19. We were talking earlier today, reflecting back on where we both were when we first met more than three years ago now. Anxiety was running rampant in me. Then comes this 5 foot 2 inch blonde light of joy. I told her at the time we met it was like this triune of perfect events coming together at the perfect time. I finally got out of God's way and let Him go to work on my shattered heart. I met Lindsay, and three days later I leave for Colorado. I talk about that trip, that area a lot. But it really has nothing to do with football, not even the scenery. Sure it's amazing (the scenery, although the football's getting better), but that isn't what draws me there. It's where I feel most whole. But none of those things; God, Lindsay, or the Rockies would've changed me the way they did without the other. I wouldn't have met Lindsay without God's grace. I would've had a much harder time believing Him if I hadn't met her. Colorado would've just been scenic if I hadn't been shown His hand on it. It would've been the only beauty I really believed in if I hadn't met Lindsay.

I guess the reason the word "joy" keeps coming to mind is it's the one word that best describes her to me. She gets such joy from others' joy. You should see her when she finds a present for someone that she thinks is just right. She can't wait to give it to them. We had dinner not long ago with friends of ours who had some really awesome news to share. Lindsay couldn't wait to...celebrate...with them (I have to be vague because we were asked to keep it quiet for now). But it's not just presents and gifts. She has a true interest in me. She loves seeing me excited. Heaven knows how burnt out she must be already with football, but she knows I enjoy it, and she not only puts up with it being on the tv, she's interested and involved. She finds her joy in mine.

She's got her own joy too. She's worked so hard at so many things lately. From a weight loss competition to getting a new job to parts in musicals, she's really been overwhelmed with blessings the last few weeks. And it's so awesome to watch her, in her joy.

I've never seen anything like her. And I've seen a lot of cool stuff. My joy is having her be the first thing I see each morning, and the last thing I see each day. My joy is at the end of the day when she walks in and Sheba jumps up from her 43rd nap of the day to greet her. Most days I'll suddenly have joy fall right into my lap as I sit my chair. Just for a hug. That's my joy. She has seen me at low points. A lot of them. Each time, she makes me feel like going through that and asking for her to help me was the right thing to do. She's not afraid to walk into the fire with me.

When it's our turn, I know her biggest joy will come from a bottle, a blankie, and a bedtime lullaby. I don't know if there's anyone who will love their child with more joy than she will. I don't know that there's ever been a wife that has ever loved a husband with more joy than she already has.

People are drawn to her. In ways that I can completely understand, and wish in so many ways I could duplicate. She is a light. Things are better when she's around. Pain is softened and shortened when she's near. Joy is emphasized and eternal when she's near. I could've survived the last three years without knowing her. Sure. But I don't think that I would have enjoyed them like I have. There's that word again.

We know drama

I took Sheba out for her morning business today. As we were walking to the dumpster a black pit bull came virtually out of nowhere. He walked up slowly and then attacked Sheba. I tried to scare the pit bull off, tried to physically push it off and for a moment, he backed away. By this time Lindsay heard the commotion and I told her to take Sheba inside but the pit bull was attacking again. Sheba broke out of her collar and took off, with the pit bull chasing her. I took after both of them. They both ran off into the woods and I couldn't keep up with them. I can honestly tell you I've never been so scared. There was nothing I could do. I called 911, and I'll be honest, I handeled it horribly. I was screaming at them and panicking. Lindsay had gotten in the car to see if she could drive around and find Sheba in the neighborhood. I called them 911 3 times before I could get something out of them. To spare you some reading and me some typing, they finally sent someone. He coralled the pit bull seemingly pretty easily. Right around that same time Lindsay came back. She said that some people running in the neighborhood had seen a police officer pick Sheba up on Piedmont Parkway, about a mile or so away from us. The officer called Lindsay and brought Sheba back. (I'm tearing up as I write this part) Sheba was fine. We took her to the vet immediately and she has no bite marks, no real wounds at all. She has a little scrape with some blood on one of her toenails of one of her paws, but it's not serious at all. The vet said she has no wounds what so ever. The animal control guy took the pitbull away and said (I think) he'd be in touch with one of us. She's (Sheba) home now.

I've never been so scared and helpless. We don't have kids obviously but this is our baby. And I couldn't stop her from being hurt. The whole time she was missing I thought the worst. I lost my temper with people on the phone, I was just a wreck. Sheba's home and fine. She does have that one little scrape but the vet said she'll be ok and she was hoping around like her normal happy, hyper self at the vets office and when we took her back home. Thing is, in that moment, that moment that was probably 5 minutes but seemed like an hour, I lost my faith. I did not believe that God was there. I did not believe He would take care of her. I didn't even think to pray. I was just scared and mad. Mad at myself, mad at whoever let this dog loose. I immediately went in the back and just praised Him for Sheba's safe return and apologized and repented to Him. I lost my sight in that moment. I'm hoping that He uses this to strengthen me in the midst of the next crisis. And I know it seems kind of silly, but in my heart, this was a crisis. I did not handle this well at all. But my prayer is that when something totally out of my control, sudden and unstobble happens again, that I have the presence of mind to turn to Him. Something I did not do this morning.

Fun with my toy

We bought a laptop recently. And it has all kinds of toys on it. This is one of them. It's my first try...it's got all my favorite things in it. A Dave Matthews Band song, Colorado, a spoiled rotten dog, the ocean, and this cute lil' blonde. Oh yeah, and that frog.

That Garth Brooks is full of it

"Some of God's greatest gifts, are unanswered prayers" says the song. It's a hugely famous song. They're thinking about making a movie out of it. It's going to be on Lifetime so the acting will be horrendous, but still. "You ever think that it's not that the prayer went unanswered, but God just said, 'no'?". My boy Kory said that once. I wish I could take credit for that wisdom. As if God is just going to ignore a prayer. The thought in the song is, "Well, He didn't give me what I want, so He just didn't answer my prayer. Maybe He will when He gets around to it." "God must be busy" says another song. Crap. More crap. I know I'm probably taking country songs too seriously, but it's a dangerous message too many people just seem to go along with.
I've gotten quite used to Him telling me, "No." "No, Marc. I know Paul has six children and you love him deeply. And I know it's going to hurt you as profoundly as anything ever has, but I won't let him survive this accident."
"No, Marc. I know you really like this girl and you don't think it could possibly get any better for you. But trust Me, I've already created your wife. I already know who she is, where you'll go on your first date, and how long it'll take you to meet. Trust me, you're going to love her more than you think you love this girl you're crying over."
"No, Marc. I can't give you this opportunity right now. You're not ready. You think you are, a lot of your friends are telling you'd be really good at it. And you would be. You will be. But you're not ready to take on that burden. Trust me. I do it a lot. But keep trying."
Those are just some of the times He's not only answered a prayer - sure, not the answer I wanted but answered none the less - but came up with a solution. Paul didn't make it out of that motorcycle accident seven years ago this coming Saturday. But I tell you this, God was glorified for at least three days non stop on one of the highest rated radio stations and television stations in this area. It will be hard to convince me there was a better witness than Paul Franklin Fuller, Jr. And when his story on this earth ended, God was praised, God was glorified, God was proclaimed, God was prayed to. On the public airwaves, in places that don't do that. How many people had their curiosity piqued, "what's with this God, this Jesus these guys keep talking about?" Someone got to know Jesus because Paul went to meet Him. Reconciled.
I would be in relationships, they'd fall apart because A)He had Lindsay in mind for me and B)I was a dumpster fire determined to make a relationship work no matter what He had to say. "If I could just get her to like me again, then I'll have everything straight". I had no idea how wrong I was. I didn't factor Him in at all. The first time I do, and look what He gives me. Someone I never imagined big enough to ask for. Reconciled.
In "The Message", Hebrews 11 reads, "It's impossible to please God apart from faith. And why? Because anyone who wants to approach God must believe both that he exists and that he cares enough to respond to those who seek him." You want me to believe that he doesn't take the time to answer a prayer? That's He can't get to it right now because kids are starving in Africa? Like God's not big enough to handle all his voicemails? I'd like to say that I've gotten to the point where I like it when God tells me "no". Because I realize it means He's working in me. He's going to reconcile something in me and the end result is going to glorify him way more than anything I had planned would.
Lindsay and I had been considering something, and it was risky to a degree. Not bungee jumping with suspenders risky but risky still. Once again, my boy Kory says to me, "You think God can't correct your mistake? You think it's either smooth sailing or a disaster and He gives up on you?" (Kory's good. A lot better than Garth) Currently reconciling.
God is totally capable of taking any mistake, any "unexpected" (by us) bump in the road, and come up with the happiest of endings. And He loves me enough to let me take chances, and no matter how reasonable, or seemingly unexplainable they may be, the outcome is not going to be enough to where He shrugs His shoulders, turns around and just walks away sighing deeply. I'm getting kind of used to hearing, "no". And it stings each and every time. The difference is now I understand that He's saying "no" because He's working. Not because He's booked.

What it was like in Chapel Hill

Just like in 2005, I was in the Dean Dome to watch UNC go for a National Championship. Lindsay joined me this year. They open up the arena to the public (for free) and it's first come first serve seating. They set up a big projection screen at halfcourt, and for the title game, they turned on the video screens at the top of the arena. Like I said, we did this in 2005 when they won it all, I think I see a pattern. Anyway, below are photos and videos from championship night. And by the way, can I just say how incredible my wife is? Just four years ago - as she'll tell you herself - she didn't care about basketball, much less get caught up in this mess for the Final Four. And now, she's really brought herself into something that I enjoy, just because she loves me. Man, did God design the perfect wife for me. Anyway, back to the basketball:

Me and Mike D....just before tip off

We're going to need a new one

That's a championship smile

Rushing the floor as the game ended....

....time to move the party to Franklin St

Here are some videos:

Just before tipoff


As the game came to an end


the Franklin Street celebration

I'm glad I'm not in control

Since football season's over (and getting uglier in the Rockies), and the tournament hasn't started yet, Lindsay has taken over the remote. No no, it's fine, you have to pick your battles and that one ain't worth fighting. Anyway, we're watching "The Biggest Loser" last night. There are two teams and they go through these series of challenges. The team that wins a particular challenge gets some sort of reward. This episode's reward was "24 hours of luxury". Spa, hot tub, massage, decadent food, all inclusive drinks, everything you could want and more. This was, I think, the 7th or so week of the show. And these men and women, and one boy, have been just knocking themselves out. The physical and emotional work they're doing to lose this weight is nothing short of inspiring. And that's not even a struggle of mine and it inspires me. Anyway, the team that won this challenge, that won the 24 hours of luxury, had won the last several challenges. They were losing the more weight more consistently than the other team. They were getting a little cocky. Nevermind, they were very cocky. Seven days a week, several hours each day, they dedicated their minds, bodies and hearts to the focus of whatever it takes to lose this weight. For someone to get to the point they go on this show, that's a life change. It's not just a diet. So this team was winning these challenges partly because they were working harder than the other team, more dedicated. And then they win this "getaway". You can see what's coming. They get to this resort and it's on. They gorge on buffet style food, just get trashed on alcohol, liquor, chicken fingers and fries for desert, and lay around getting pampered all day. It was the same gluttony that landed them on this show. They get rewarded with their hard work with one day of freedom, and what do they do with it? Practically erase everything that earned them the day of freedom in the first place.
Your first reaction is probably something like, "How could they? After all that effort, they just throw it away? They'd been given a gift, and just forget everything it took to get them there." Any idea where I'm going next?
I got saved November of 1999. After all the work, all the dedication -- the love -- Christ displayed to grant me freedom, you would think in the 9 1/2 years since, I would've taken the gift of eternal life -- of freedom -- and treated it preciously and carefully. Sometimes sure. But I can't tell you how many times I've been given a sliver of freedom, and washed it away with gluttony. Maybe not with food blowing a diet regiment, but metaphorically absolutely. I've done the exact same thing time and time again in my spiritual life that these contestants did last night. No better, no worse. I have given into myself, my flesh, because to paraphrase the people on the show last night, "Oh well, it's just this once. I've been so good lately, what could it hurt? I deserve this little bit!"
The contestants come back to the "ranch" and their trainer is devestated. She feels betrayed. "Why should I care so much if this is how you're going to treat it. Why do I care if you guys don't care? I give up." And that's where the parallels between "The Biggest Loser" and my walk with God stop. I'm sure He's felt devestated, betrayed. But not once, not one single time have I been met with a "Why do I care if you don't? I give up."
Paul Young, author of "The Shack" spoke at my church once. While he was speaking he read a letter he got one time. The writer of the letter talked about a struggle with addiction. And how each time he failed he expected God to get fed up with him and turn away. Instead, according the guy in the letter, he would hear, "Only 50 more times. Only 50 more times before you go flying face first into the mirror, before you cut this crap out."
I've been given 24 hours of luxury before. I've been given a much more grand doses of freedom. I've botched it several times just like those people on "Biggest Loser" did last night. But somehow God knows just how much freedom to give me. Just the right amount where I can step off the ledge, without falling fifty feet to the rocky river below. I'm thankful that He knows me that well. I'm thankful that He lets me peer over the side but never lets me fall. If it were up to me, I would've been part of the landscape a long time ago. I'm exhausting the metaphor but the point is, as long as He controls my heart, my mind, my words, my actions, my thoughts, then it's freedom I'll enjoy. As soon as I take over, it's a long hard fall.

Yes sir....

We want to be the team everyone is talking about in March and April, not February. -- Ty Lawson

Feeling welcome

I was reading from the Message this morning, John 15:9-10 Jesus says, "I've loved you the way my Father has loved me. Make yourselves at home in my love. If you keep my commands, you'll remain intimately at home in my love. That's what I've done—kept my Father's commands and made myself at home in his love." So the part I underlined, "Make yourselves at home in my love". That part jumped out at me. Obviously there's the image of coming in to Jesus' home, kickin' off your shoes, putting on a nice smoking jacket and fuzzy slippers (maybe that's just me) unwinding and just letting down the guard. Much like the image that comes to mind when someone says, dinner time Thursday nights. Just relaxing and allowing us to stop "performing". Comfort, peace, just be yourselves and enjoy. But there was another part that came to mind on the same wavelength. Am I running my home in a way that Jesus would feel like He could make himself at home in? Would Jesus be able to relax, be comfortable, peaceful, enjoy my home? Am I speaking to my wife behind close doors, so to speak, in a way that Jesus would feel comfortable sitting on the couch watching old Broncos highlights in the same room with us? Would He feel like He could walk around my home, and me not worry, "what if he looks in that cabinet, what will He think of what He finds? If he looks at the pictures and artwork on my walls, would he sheild his eyes or appreciate them? If He looked in my DVD drawer, would He ask if He could borrow some of them, or shake His head and sigh deeply to Himself? When we have more friends come over to join us, would He think I/we treated them well? Would He think we make them feel welcomed, that they're our guests and they too feel comfortable and loved? Do we offer them food, drink? Comfort when it's needed? Support and encouragement? Laughter? Am I paying attention to my dog? Am I treating the animal in our home (since we don't have kids yet) the an animal should be treated?" Jesus invites me to make myself at home with Him. Do I feel like I can extend the same invitation to Him by the way I live? Would Jesus feel comfortable in me? Does He? Or is He more like the friend you have come over and once they see what your home is like, they keep looking at their watch, hoping their cell phone will ring with a, "something's come up, we need you back home" call? I hope my home is the one where He's in His smoking jacket, fuzzy slippers, laid back and doesn't even notice how much time has gone by.

Fun with photos

Must've been cold in the condo that day

My kinda Sunday

"You going to drop whatever it is you're grilling?!"

Just what I wanted!!

Lindsay's first NFL game, my Broncos getting whopped by the Panthers

Lindsay's first major college basketball game, UNC at Wake Forest

Biltmore flowers

On top of the Biltmore. I didn't want to take this picture...to close to the edge for me

On our way into the Biltmore house

The bed and breakfast we stayed in for our first anniversary trip

Snow on the Blue Ridge Parkway

One down, many many more to go

Monday is our one year anniversary. I had someone ask me recently if there was anything about our wedding that I would do differently. Yeah, there actually was. First of all, I was sick. I had some kind of head cold and could barely breathe. So that would be one thing. Second, I didn't know that as people were coming into the church, I had to be tucked away in a room. I wanted to greet people as they came in. I'm sure that's the way it's done, but I wish I could've hugged people as they came in and didn't have to wait until the reception. But there's one other thing I would've done differently.
That morning when I got up and was praying for the day, I thought if I got an opportunity to speak at the reception, I wanted to thank some people. I had the opportunity during the toasts, but I didn't take advantage of it, and I regret that. To this day I regret it. I was going to thank everyone for coming. The weather wasn't bad, but risky enough to where we would've understood if they didn't come. So I wanted to thank them for braving the weather and joining us. I wanted to thank Steve for officiating our ceremony. He HAD to be a part of it. I wanted to tell him I couldn't wait to see the video, because once Lindsay walked in the room, I didn't hear anything else. I didn't hear the congregation making noise, I didn't hear what Steve said to us, I didn't hear him sing. I was just captured. But I wanted to thank him for officiating it. I wanted to thank everyone who worked hard for our day. Jimmy, Joyce, Judy Webster who decorated the church. They volunteered their time and it was beautiful. I wanted to thank our parents, mainly hers for giving me their approval. I wanted to thank God for attending. But as I was going through all this in my head, if felt like I was forgetting someone. Then it dawned on me....



Thank you, Lindsay. Thank you for loving me. Anyone else who hears this, you want to know how to love your spouse better? Save your money on books, don't watch Oprah, just watch Lindsay love me. She loves me selflessly. She loves me constantly. She loves me endlessly. She loves me regardless of me. We talked about living in Colorado. She practically had her bags packed. Not because it was something she always dreamed of, but because she saw how much the thought excited me. She just wanted to be where I was. That's how she loves me. She wants to be a part of me. She wants to see what makes me come alive, and she wants to be a part of the journey. She supports me. She believes in me. "I know that I can't do anything wrong" says an Alan Jackson song. Yeah, I know what he means. She loves me to where I feel strong. Even when I have no other reason to feel that way. She makes me feel like I am the thing that excites her most. She makes me feel like I'm the best part of her day. I had a friend tell me that one day while she was singing in church, that you could "see the love in her eyes as she stared at you for a short time." I had no idea, but it doesn't surprise me. She cares for me, she allows me to hurt, she encourages me to get the strength back. She never tries to fix me, but always lets me know it will be ok. She makes me feel that I can do anything, that I can do everything. She makes me laugh, she laughs at and with me. She constantly gives up herself, for me. When I do catch her looking at me, that smile beats any lake or mountain I ever seen. She could've loved anyone she wanted to, and she would've loved them just as well. But she loves me. It's not because anything I've done, anything I deserve. But she loves me still. She makes it easy to love her. She makes me eager to come home. She makes me look forward to Saturday mornings sleeping in. We don't have to go hiking, just as long as it's us. She loves me a lot like Jesus. She brings me closer to Him. As much as I appreciate people coming the wedding, people working the wedding, working to prepare the wedding, I appreciate her more. But more than that, I appreciate her loving me. Thank you, Lindsay. You have taught me how to love well. Hopefully I have learned from your lead.

Our first 50 weeks

As I write this, Lindsay and I have been husband (or "hubby bubby" as some like to say) and wife for 50 weeks. I didn't spend much time on the math, 52 weeks in a year, and two weeks short of our one year anniversary, there you go. Anyway, we have a lot to be proud of as we look back, and even more to be excited about as we look forward. (Sorry mom and mom-in-law that doesn't mean babies any time soon. They're in the plan, just not yet) Most of the people reading this were probably at our wedding, so I'm sure you remember the snow. Lindsay's birthday was the day before. I call her to tell her happy birthday and she's in a panic because of the forecast. "No one's going to come!!!" she managed through sobs on the phone. Turned out just fine didn't it?

So then we take off for a week in Jamaica. As we walk around the resort in our flip flops and bathing suits, we looked in one of the bars and they're showing the NFL playoffs. It's -3 at one, and 4 above at the other. That on top of the fact that when we woke up that morning, I had to chip the ice off my winsheild to drive, all inclusive sunshine is a wonderful thing. Not to rub it in. We climbed waterfalls, rode horses (Scrappy rules!!), some of us got sick on boats (I won't say which one of us did that), wresteled with sand fleas, had a butler bring us drinks in our personal, oceanside cabana as I listened to Dave Matthews for a while, the waves crashing for a while, Jack Johnson for a while, more waves crashing for a while....etc, etc. We learned how truly lucky we are. Not because we're disproportionatley blessed and have one of everything we need and a lot of what we want, but because we don't have to worry about are we going to have any food to last us through the week. Not everyone down there can say that. Despite my protest and better judgement, we came back. By the way, customs sucks!!

So we get back to the land of the pale people and begin our life as a married couple. I'm still waiting on our butler and cabana. I've been waiting for 48 weeks. More good times than bad. Lindsay's cousin Shannon got married the May (maybe it was June) before we did. We're at the wedding and I remember something being said during the toasts that has been stuck in my head every single day since. "May today be as bad as it ever gets". I liked that. I liked that a lot. For the record, we've had days that were worse than January 19th. We've had fights. We've had, "I have to get out of here and drive around the block to cool down" fights. But we can count them on one hand. And they were all over and behind us by the time the sun set on those days. We're fantastic at realizing whatever we're fighting over isn't important enough to go to bed angry. It really may be the thing we're best at. Wanting to love each other more than we want to be right. There was our first Valentine's Day that I totally blew because I was sick. I was so sick I missed out on the dinner at church we planned to go to, at one point going to get a bowl of ice cream. Not to eat, just to sit on my forehead to cool off. I've tried to make up for it since. But it's been good. It's been great. The three of us, Sheba rounding out the triangle. I learned some things over the summer. I'm incredibly selfish. I grew up an only child and took full advantage of it. I had lived by myself literally and practically for eight years. Having to consider what someone else wants to do, someone else's heart, was an adjustment for me. One I'm still working on. Luckily my wife has the patience I lack. I learned what I already thought I knew, that it's an every day thing. Making sure she knows every single day that she's more precious to me than Broncos football, mountains, lakes that look like mirrors, and cabanas. She knows that. I think she really does. But I still have to remind her.

We spent a weekend at Oak Island, as the Webster again were nice enough to let us use their beach house. Lindsay still doesn't loose at putt-putt very well. Though she makes up for it while singing karyoke at an ice cream shop. The sand fleas aren't as vicious domestically, the Papa Bear still hits a special spot, and if you're looking for seagulls, walk on the sand with bread.

Then came our second honeymoon. My favorite place on the planet. Colorado. Denver, Rocky Mountain National Park, Red Rocks, Georgetown, Boulder, Grande Lake, Winter Park, Frasor, Crooked Creek, Estes Park. We had a cabin where all I had to do was roll over in bed to watch the sunrise over the mountains out the window over looking the valley. With all due respect to the beach, the ocean, I'm convinced more than ever that if God has a vacation home, it's in Grand County, Colorado. Watching female elk nurse its young no more than five feet away, learning I really can't walk on water, getting so caught up in the beauty that we leave my dad's video camera at Emerald Lake, realizing that no amount of leg curls at the gym can match the workout that is hiking at two miles above sea level, hearing a bugling elk in the beginning of the "rut" (mating season), feeding squirrels, dipping heads and toes in to Rocky Mountain rivers, claiming previously un-named waterfalls, choosing potential retirement sites, taking a carriage ride through downtown Denver, seeing snow four days after Labor Day, and again against my better judgement, finally coming home.

We setteled in for the last part of the year at home. Lindsay joined my passion for football. Just in an effort to show me how much she loves me. I realize I haven't joined her world as much as she has mine. Hopefully I will do better in our next 50 weeks. She really is amazing. I really am blessed. I also learned what I already thought I knew. People who say marriage stinks, "The ol' ball and chain", insert cliche here...I can see why they would say those things. It can be brutal if you get it wrong. You choose to spend life with the wrong person for the wrong reason, sure...it can be its own form of torture. But do what I did, let God guide your choices and direct your heart, and you get it better than right. You get Lindsay. I used to hate the idea of marraige. Used to. I hadn't met her yet. Thank God I was wrong.

I'll have humble pie, please

So I'm "man-ing" up. My boys got smacked. I knew it wasn't going to go well the night before when I got a text from a friend of mine who had some connections (staying at the same hotel as the team, had field passes, went in the locker room after the game) that Champ Bailey wasn't going to play. At that moment, I knew it wasn't going to happen. But we went anyway. We got there a couple of hours early, watched the warm ups from as close to the field as we could get without actually being on it. Took lots of pictures (that I'll post soon, forgot the camera this morning). The game starts, and it's chilly but not really cold. Not compared to the Christmas Night game of 2004 when it was 26 degrees at kickoff. Started out nicely, marched right down the field and put it in for seven. Then Carolina gets the ball and without even really exerting themselves, answers. A Champ-less defense finally ran out of steam. About halfway through the second quarter, I started to realize that we weren't going to win. No one, and I've seen every single snap this year, no one has put pressure on Cutler the way the Panthers did. Combine that with the fact our starting running back was selling cell phones a month ago, and I finally resolved myself to the fact that it was going to be a long, long day. For some reason at the end of the half, we have the ball at our own 18. 30 some seconds left and we call timeout. You figure in that situation, you're going to take a shot down field right? No, we ran a toss right with a guy in his first game in eight weeks, he fumbles and they get a cheap field goal right before halftime. It was the only time I yelled. Until...
The game is almost officially over (it had been over since that fumble). Denver has the ball is for the first time in two quarters, progressing down the field. Tatum Bell (the cell phone salesman, "T-Mobile") got a run and broke it for a first down. Lindsay, God love her, still into it, stood up and cheered. That's it. Stood up, clapped, and said "wooohooo, go!!". No taunting, no "take that, Carolina sucks", none of that. She sits down, and I hear, "scoreboard" from behind us. At that point, I snapped. "Scoreboard!?! Really dude? She's cheering for her team, she didn't say anything to you." By the time that was out, I realized it was a young teen boy, I'm guessing 13-14 years old that had spoken up. This kid now was realizing, "Oh, he's not going to just sit there." No, I wasn't. The kid now with a stunned, half smirk on his face said "I was just trying to watch the game". I said something along the lines of "your team is winning ok, but that doesn't make you a badass, you're not going to talk to her anymore." At this point his dad chimes in, "Cool your jets" he says to me. "Talk to your son, if he's man enough to talk, make sure he talks to me." We go back and forth a few minutes, finally calming down. Then a few rows behind all that, a younger boy (maybe 8-9) cheers for the Broncos. Lindsay, now with the fire fully stoked turns and says, "You going to tell him to sit down too?" Round two. He says something to her and I reminded him that if he was going to talk, to direct his wit to me and not to her. His dad says, "I'm getting stadium security" "Go get 'em" I tell him, not caring if we got kicked out, there was :35 left and we're down 20. Moral of the story I explained to the security guy what happened he nodded and said, "well the game's over now" the kid with his dad left.
And that was it. Two days later, I probably took 30-10 out on this kid. But I stand by what I was saying, even if the way I said it could've been better. That kid doesn't know that I'm not the same guy I was 2-3 years ago, a guy that in those circumstances would've made that scene much, much worse for everyone involved. "What were you going to do!?" Lindsay asked. Nothing, I didn't want to hit the kid, the dad, or anyone, but I did want him to learn (because he apparently hadn't yet) that having a ticket to a ball game (concert, whatever) doesn't give you authority to talk to people, especially women, that way. If Lindsay had stood up and said, "Yeah, we rule! Carolina can kiss it!" Then maybe, she would've brought it on herself. But by her standing up briefly, cheering innocently, and sitting back down, the classy thing to do would have been to maybe snicker, roll your eyes, and just enjoy the win. If I had stood up and cheered, and he had said it, fine. I don't care. But what I wanted the young man to know is that you don't get to talk to my wife like that. You don't know her, you don't have permission to speak to her that way. You stick your head in the lion's mouth, you get bitten. He, and myself too, are lucky this didn't happen a few years ago. I don't know if I handled it perfectly, but I know I protected my wife outwardly. God's grace and wisdom that I've allowed to sink in over the last couple of years kept that scene from being any worse. Now if only He would've been so gracious to let Champ heal a little more quickly, I could've been the one celebrating...

"Sunday....Sunday....Sunday!!!!"

Since this is the last day I'll be around a computer before Sunday, I thought I'd go ahead and blog about this weekend. This Sunday, the first time that my boys will have ever played a regular season game in North Carolina (they played two preseason games). The pictures from above are from the games I've been to in Colorado (vs Kansas City in September '06, vs New England October '05, and a stadium tour before the Kansas City game). I've been to two other games that I couldn't find pictures from on this cojmputer (vs San Diego November 2003 and at Tennessee Christmas night of 2004). But this Sunday, the Denver Broncos will be playing the Panthers in Charlotte. It's not only my team, but it's a huge game. Denver wins, they clinch a division championship. I've seen them play in person four times, I've seen them beat a defending world champion, I've seen them break records, I've seen a home opner, but I've never seen them clinch a division championship. I can't begin to tell you how excited I am. It will be Lindsay's first ever NFL game. It will be my parents' fourth Bronco game. I've been to five Bronco games, four games not involving Denver. This is by far, the one I'm most excited about. I'm not worried about rooting for the visiting team, I don't think Panther fans are generally hostile to outsiders. Even if Denver wins, I have no intention of gloating, so I don't forsee starting up any scene, which I think for the most part is the only time fans in that stadium would become hostile. They won't come back to Charlotte for at least another four years, so this is Haley's Comet kind of rare. The tickets weren't too expensive, at least not compared to what I'm used to. I've been known to drop $340/ticket...twice. I'm so excited for this game, and for everyone riding home with me on Sunday night, it'll be a much more pleasant ride if we (that's right I said "we") can win. I know Carolina looked good Monday night, but that was Monday night. Rarely are NFL teams that fired up two weeks in a row.

I have no idea

I know what you're thinking, "Hey wait, that's not Colorado." You're good.

About to fall asleep last night, I'm flipping around the channels because "The Daily Show" wasn't having one of its best nights. I come across "The Pursuit of Happyness". It's a Will Smith movie from a couple of years ago where he plays this (eventually) single dad living in San Francisco, struggling to make it. And by make I don't mean, make the NFL. Make it in Hollywood. I'm talking about "I'm not sure if we're going to be able to eat tomorrow" make it. I don't want to tell the whole movie, but there's a point, maybe it's the low point (at least one of them) where Will's character, (Chris) and his son in the movie (who by the way is his son in real life as well) have to spend the night in a subway bathroom. Sleeping on the floor of a underground railroad bathroom because they've been kicked out of multiple hotels and apartments because Chris can't pay the rent. Chris' son somehow falls asleep, and as someone comes to the bathroom door, tries to get in but can't because Chris locked the door from the inside, Chris begins to cry. I guess in the moment he was afraid more that someone was going to tell him he and his son couldn't sleep there. That yet again, they'd have to find somewhere else to go. I imagine that was the fear more than someone was going to harm either of them.

And then it dawns on me as I start to tear up with Chris, I have no clue what that is. I know Will Smith hasn't always been as "fortunate" as he has EARNED himself to be now, but I don't know that he really truly, deep down has any clue what that is. I can promise you I don't. I have no idea what it's like to hope that someone doesn't tell me that I can't sleep on the floor of a public bathroom because I don't know where else me and my four year old (I'm guessing on the age but it doesn't really matter) son can sleep. My idea of struggling now is having both the Broncos and the Tarheels lose on the same weekend. To say I have it good, well, it's kind of insulting. And this isn't one of those, "count your blessings this Thanksgiving" blogs. Those kind of annoy me...no offense if you have or are planning to write one. But it just hit me when I saw that scene, man, I don't have any idea what it's like to be scared like that. To be hopeless like that. That's purely a credit to my parents. And don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I'm going to have a yard sale tomorrow, give away all my worldly possessions so I can really appreciate what it is to relate to those who have lived the story of the man in the movie, some without a happy ending. I like my Direct TV and I don't have to apologize for it. But I think while I don't think God is really asking me to strip down all of my possessions to a bed, some clothes and a couple of loaves of bread, He is asking me to realize that it can all be taken away. For not necessarily doing anything wrong.

Recently there's been a lot in the news about the "Big Three" automakers going to the government asking for I think a $25 billion bailout. The CEO of Ford Motor Corporation, when a congressman asked if he (the CEO) would consider reducing his million dollar salary to help his own company, his employees out instead of part of a $25 billion taxpayer bailout. Paraphrasing, "No, no I think I'm ok where I'm at." This guy has never seen "The Pursuit of Happyness". If he has, he was too busy counting hundred dollar bills to pay any attention. I'm not offended by what he said on my behalf, I'm ok. I'm offended by what he said on behalf of the Chris Hudson's of the world.

But what's more than the offense that I took from that, is the inspiration I get. Not from Will Smith in a movie, although it is a good movie. I get the inspiration from friends that I have that have been in similar situations. One in particular. Lost their income. A very young child to take care of. And he'll tell you he was worried at times. Not "subway bathroom floor" worried, but worried. While he wasn't worry free, his faith was remarkable. He just knew God was going to provide. And now He is. If this blog is wondering and direction-less, you know what it's like to have been in my head since I flipped the channel on this movie last night.

I turned it off before the fear of being in a similar position kept me up all night. I'd seen it before, so I know what happens. But I can't help but watch that and think, "Do I have enough strength to fight through the way the guy in the movie did? Do I have the strength that my friend that I mentioned does? Other friends I didn't mentioned who've had similar stories. Those that I don't know that have had similar stories?" I don't know. I like to think I do, but I don't know. All I know is I have no idea what it looks like to be in the middle of that storm. And I am, yes, incredibly thankful that I don't. Dang it, and I told myself this wasn't going to be one of those types of blogs. Anyway, I guess this was just a really long way of thanking my parents, for not ever letting me sleep on the floor of a subway bathroom. I never came close.

*Sigh....*

It's been a while.....

Did you miss me? I guess we have been so busy we have not had time to do anything. Marc has been doing a number of things with work. BBQ Festival, meeting Adam Gregory, Matinsville Race, The Fair!, and I am sure things I am missing. Below is Lindsay and Adam Gregory.




Needless to say October is the month where we go go go! I am also in the musical "The Sound of Music" at the moment so that is taking away from the free time. Well I am having a good time with it! I do know that. We had free time on Tuesday to share with friends. We went to Chris and Molly's and it was a great time. The food was great and the fellowship even better. I love getting together and sharing with friends. It is a time that feeds my soul! Especially since there was a little one running around part of the night. And even though she wasnt feeling to well she still let me shake my booty with her to some Veggie Tales!



So Marc made me dinner last night! The first time! It was very good. Chicken alfredo. Except I am not big on mixing the chicken in so I ate mine with some different sauce. He did a great job and even cleaned up all the dishes as well! You cannot tell me you wouldnt want husband like mine! Of course you cant have mine because well, he is MINE! hehe! I guess that is all for now. My friend Jen is getting married this weekend so I am sure I will have something to tell you come Monday!

I can't think of a title

Just to get this out of the way, that of course is a picture of Colorado. This post has nothing to do with Colorado. I just like pic's of Colorado, so I throw them in when ever I can. Regardless of how or if it relates to what I'm writing about.
Ok, that said, I've really been struggling lately with roles. I'll tell this story as quickly as I can. The radio station I work for is getting a new morning show. A few days ago we had a staff meeting to unveil who it was going to be. It was a sales slide show presentation that was put together to show to clients but we were getting a look at it first to be "introduced" to the new guy. The slide show started by featuring each of the stations' websites, and then the air staff members. When my station came up, there was the new morning guy, Angie, Bill, next station. Skipped over me entirely. I've been here nine years. Granted, I'm not the dominating personality or as well known as those that did make the presentation, but I'm somewhere in between what being left off and being the focus.
Since then, about a week and a half, I've really been struggling with my role. My value, my worth. I know I'm valuable to my family, that's not what I'm talking about. And I'm not saying I'm taking that for granted, it's awesome that I am treasured by those who love me. But there's a degree to which we want those who have no part of our family tree to notice us, appreciate our efforts, value us. We want to be important. I don't want to be responsible for every little thing important, the guy who can't put his blackberry down long enough to eat a meal important. But valued for what I do. I'm never going to be the most popular or beloved in any circle, and I'm fine with that. I really, really am. I don't get my value as a man from being recognized on the street as a guy who is on the radio. I don't like it, much less get my worth from it. But I mean, really? I don't even make a staff presentation? I was told it was an oversight, but still. The damage has been done. It wasn't just that incident, though that was a seriously painful arrow. Feeling ignored by some friends, just a general feeling of being over looked, invisible.
Then comes my time in the word, which I honestly don't spend enough of, but I was in it this one day, and I come across this. Romans 12:4-6 from "The Message":

In this way we are like the various parts of a human body. Each part gets its meaning from the body as a whole, not the other way around. The body we're talking about is Christ's body of chosen people. Each of us finds our meaning and function as a part of his body. But as a chopped-off finger or cut-off toe we wouldn't amount to much, would we? So since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ's body, let's just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren't.

That last part, "let's just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren't." And I just wept. How convicting is that of a man who claims to not want too much attention, and then wonder why he's not getting what he thinks he should. My wife seems to think I'm pretty cool (though she calls me a dork all the time) the was I was "made to be". My parents are endlessly supportive, honestly (sorry mom & dad), but sometimes to a fault. How many times, especially over the days since that slide show episode, have I been envious and comparing myself to those who naturally attract people and are easily "beloved"? I think those who take the time to know me, generally like me. But how many people do I really let get that far? Is it because I've lost so many people through one avenue or another? I'm scared I'll loose someone else so I refuse to invest anything past the surface to begin with? I claim to refuse the glare of the spotlight and then become envious of those who have it shown on.

To my credit, the very last part, "trying to be something we aren't". I think that I do well. I won't sacrifice my heart in order to get that notoriety, attention, acclaim, whatever you want to call it. I just complain instead.

And this isn't a desperate search for comments on this blog, comments when I see you, emails or phone calls, "Just read your blog and I want you to know you're valuable to me because x, y, z." I've just been convicted by something I read in Romans (so far my favorite book in the entire work).

After that sinks in, I feel led to read 1 John. And find this:

2:15-17: Don't love the world's ways. Don't love the world's goods. Love of the world squeezes out love for the Father. Practically everything that goes on in the world—wanting your own way, wanting everything for yourself, wanting to appear important—has nothing to do with the Father. It just isolates you from him. The world and all its wanting, wanting, wanting is on the way out—but whoever does what God wants is set for eternity.

Wanting to appear important has nothing to do with the Father. It just isolates you from him. You take that pointed verse, and combine it with a line I read in Donald Miller's "Searching For God Knows What", and you realize something. The line I read says this:

Even Jesus says His glory comes from the Father, which I take to mean that even Christ...was valuable because God loved Him

I'm not valuable because people notice me. I'm not valuable because I make a slide show presentation. I'm not valuable because the people I work with do or don't appreciate my effort. I'm not valuable because of what my wife, my family, my friends think of me. I am valuable because God loves me. Me. And He does. Oh how He does. There's nothing I can do, no level of good deed or stupid mistake that will earn His love or take it away. I have His love because He is so loving, not because I did some good things. I can't tell you how relaxing that is. How calming. To realize that even if I'm not seen by those I walk by every day in an office, even if my friends sometimes look right by me, He says I'm valuable. He says I'm glorious. No one can take that away. And I didn't have to earn it. I couldn't have. Praise Him. Even though this is revelation I'm sure I'll forget entirely too easily.

By the way this is our Baby!

Sheba in her coat to stay warm....as if she didnt have enough hair!

This is her at Daddy's Work