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.