May 20, 2000. I was 26 years old, married for 5 years, had bought our first home, and we were expecting our first child. Life was going, more or less, according to the plans we had made when we were married.
On this particular day, we were at Shelby Farms just outside of Memphis, Tennessee with a group of young people from Calvary Baptist Church attending the "Passion: One Day" gathering. It was a day of praise and worship, solemn prayer, and thanksgiving. Little did we know that in just a few short hours we'd have our faith and resolve put to the test in a devastating way.
For those who weren't there, Memphis was getting a light SOAKING that day. Not much heavy rain, but a slight drizzle off and on, as well as a thick mist that seemed to saturate the very fiber of your being. We were not deterred, however, we enjoyed the day as if we expected God Himself to make an appearance among us. He did.
Jami (my wife) began to feel a bit "under the weather" as the day went on, but we all believed it was just because of the foul weather. We went back to our hotel rooms, enjoyed the evening with a lot of chatter, and prepared for the trip home the next morning. Jami never got over that sick feeling. On the trip home we had to pull over a couple of times for her to be sick.
We made it home safely and got to bed not a moment too soon. Jami didn't sleep well, and somewhere around 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning she woke me up with trembling hands. "Something's wrong, and I think I need to go to the hospital," she said. Without hesitation, we made the two block journey to the emergency room.
The doctor tending the emergency room that night was unimaginably rude, given the circumstances of Jami's pregnancy and her concern for the symptoms she was experiencing. We were confused and distressed, not knowing what to make of all of this. "Is this normal?" we kept asking the doctor, nurses, ourselves, and each other. No one gave us a direct answer. They were vague, but in hindsight I understand why. We were told they'd run more tests and perform an ultrasound later in the morning. We could do nothing but wait in confusion, fear, frustration, and, thanks to the doctor's attitude, total humiliation.
Later that morning, we were ready for the ultrasound. It didn't take long for the unmistakable look of disappointment to appear on the technician's face. He began to say "I'm sorry...," but we already knew the rest of his words without needing to hear them. Jami sobbed uncontrollably, I leaned over to hold her, and the technician tried his best to be delicate with the rest of his words. "There's no heartbeat. We can see the baby, but the heartbeat just isn't there." He was truly moved by our pain, but was powerless to do anything about it. He was silent for what seemed like an eternity, and allowed us to have a few minutes to let the shock sink in completely.
I wanted to beg him for more information. Is there anything that can be done? Are you absolutely sure the baby's dead? Could there be something wrong with the machine? The look on his face answered all of those questions and any others I might could have thought of in that moment. I said nothing. It was hopeless. The baby was gone. We could see the tiny shape of her (afterwards, Jami and I were astonished to discover that though we never found out the sex of the baby, we both secretly believed it to be a girl. To us, it always will be) - the body, head, tiny arms and legs beginning t0 take shape. What should have been a perfect little child was just perfectly still. Nothing anyone could do would ever change that.
All of the necessary procedures were performed later in the day. We were surrounded by friends and family, many of whom just sat with us silently. That was all we really wanted that day. Quiet support and assurance. No grand words of uplifting hope, just shared sorrow.
I prayed constantly from the moment we had left to go to the hospital. I had prayed that everything would be okay, until we found out things weren't okay. I prayed for strength for the both of us, until we were able to cope with the initial shock of our loss. Then I began to pray the prayer that was probably the most significant. I pledged to God that should He see fit to grant us with another chance at parenthood, my overriding goal would be to raise that child to be an intellectual giant in the Faith. This wasn't a "deal" prayer, quid pro quo, name-it-claim-it, or any of that nonsense. This prayer came from a place of understanding and acceptance of His sovereignty in all things. This prayer meant that I would be faithful in any situation, regardless of the outcome. Out of complete devastation was born stubborn resolve. I still pray that prayer.
When we got home the next day, we pulled into the driveway to a curious sight. A single small, delicate flower, pinkish-purple in color, that had NEVER appeared there before had sprouted, grown up, and bloomed right under our bedroom window. I had mowed the lawn just a few days before. The flower wasn't there. I took the trash to the curb when we had returned home from Memphis the day before. The flower wasn't there. When we left in the middle of the night for the emergency room the flower wasn't there. Yet, when we had been through so much pain in only a few short hours, there was that solitary bloom given to us in ONE DAY. We stood there looking at it for a few minutes. I felt like Noah witnessing the first rainbow. We looked at each other and agreed that this was a promise from God. He gives and takes away, but the result is always simply beautiful.
We now have the two most beautiful kids on the planet. This isn't conjecture - it's fact. I've seen lots of kids, and none of them look like Jami and I, only mine. Therefore, they have to be the most beautiful! They are healthy, happy, and a bit spoiled. Christian was born less than a year later (March 29, 2001), and when I first saw him I knew the task ahead. I'd made a promise to God and to that new baby boy, and I will keep that promise. Paige was given to us February 8, 2004, and she sings "Jesus Loves Me" in her own weird language, but she sings it like she means it. I'll let Jars of Clay explain what I feel when I watch her sing-
"Someday she'll understand the meaning of it all.
He's more than the laughter or the stars in the Heavens,
As close as a heartbeat or a song on her lips,
Someday she'll trust Him and learn how to see Him,
Someday He'll call her, and she will come running,
And fall in His arms, and tears will fall down and she'll pray.
I want to fall in love with You,
I want to fall in love with You." - "Love Song For A Savior"
This is the only truly important thing in all my life. It only took ONE DAY to realize it.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Peer Pressure - or "I'm looking for cracks in the pavement..."-Simon Le Bon (Duran Duran)
Relax, folks, this one's not political. Well, so far as the most common definition is concerned, it's not.
Have you ever found yourself walking across a parking lot, through a supermarket, or even on a sidewalk (do people still walk on sidewalks?) and you suddenly realize you've been adjusting your stride so as to avoid stepping on a crack, or line, in the pavement/floor/concrete/surface material stuff? I'll bet you didn't really give it a second thought. Maybe you did, but you just kinda giggled to yourself, thought "How silly!" and kept on strollin'.
While walking through a customer's warehouse yesterday I caught myself doing this. I stopped for a moment to consider why I was doing this. "Step on a crack, break your mother's back!" began running through my head. Wow! I haven't actually HEARD anybody say that since, maybe, third grade. Of course, even then I didn't believe the voodoo behind the chant. I just played along so I didn't have to listen to 12 other kids go "Ooooo, you stepped on a crack!" I simply modified my behavior so as not to buck the status quo.
So, why am I still doing it? I guess that's the power of suggestion. Peer pressure squeezed me into a new habit, and my behavior has been altered for life. Sure, I could go through great pains to introduce a NEW habit, but it's really not worth the effort in this instance. I guess I will forever be subconciously avoiding cracks in the pavement.
"So, what are you getting at, Phil?"
I'll ask you another question. Have you ever felt like standing up and shouting "hallellujah!" or "amen!" during Sunday morning worship or during a particularly on-point sermon, but didn't? I have. Why didn't I? I was avoiding the proverbial crack on the floor. I've been conditioned to keep my emotions in check so as not to disrupt the services. Peer pressure rises up and smacks me down.
I can't tell you how many times I've been up on the stage, strumming away to a great hymn or praise song like "Blessed Be Your Name," and wanted to just start jumping up and down and singing at the top of my lungs! That song has such profound lyrical content that it makes me almost forgive Matt Redman for singing it in that annoying British accent! I'm singing along to his live recording of it now. Love it. I'm so free to dance like a fool in the privacy of my music room at home with an audience of God and my 3 yr. old daughter (she's singing, too! COOL!). Why can't I let go of that self-consciousness in public? Why am I so reserved? Have I really put that tight of a cap on my emotional expression? It's tough to retrain habits that are so well established.
Imagine, tomorrow morning I'm strumming along and the Spirit moves on my heart. I decide not to push it back down any longer. I smile, close my eyes, and begin spinning in circles on one foot. Down goes my mic stand. Matt catches the headstock of my guitar in his right temple. The chior scatters like cockroaches as I flip backwards over the modesty wall. OK, maybe baby steps are the way to go!
I don't expect the world to change to accommodate me. I don't expect the congregation to, all of a sudden, switch gear into "charismatic" mode so I'll feel better about wanting to show outward expressions of joy and worship. Given the two extremes I've witnessed, I'll take orderly stoicism over disorderly charisma any day. It's just sad to me that this reservedness has taken such a strong hold of me.
What's the answer? I really don't know. Humility before God is always the beginning of worship for me. Maybe that should be my foremost focus. "Walk humbly with your God." If I'm truly worshipping Him, He'll open the floodgates of joy that will shine through in all things. Maybe I should be more concerned with DAILY worship. Maybe we ALL should. Can you imagine what Sunday mornings would look like if we'd all been TRULY worshipping God all week? Can't wait!
Have you ever found yourself walking across a parking lot, through a supermarket, or even on a sidewalk (do people still walk on sidewalks?) and you suddenly realize you've been adjusting your stride so as to avoid stepping on a crack, or line, in the pavement/floor/concrete/surface material stuff? I'll bet you didn't really give it a second thought. Maybe you did, but you just kinda giggled to yourself, thought "How silly!" and kept on strollin'.
While walking through a customer's warehouse yesterday I caught myself doing this. I stopped for a moment to consider why I was doing this. "Step on a crack, break your mother's back!" began running through my head. Wow! I haven't actually HEARD anybody say that since, maybe, third grade. Of course, even then I didn't believe the voodoo behind the chant. I just played along so I didn't have to listen to 12 other kids go "Ooooo, you stepped on a crack!" I simply modified my behavior so as not to buck the status quo.
So, why am I still doing it? I guess that's the power of suggestion. Peer pressure squeezed me into a new habit, and my behavior has been altered for life. Sure, I could go through great pains to introduce a NEW habit, but it's really not worth the effort in this instance. I guess I will forever be subconciously avoiding cracks in the pavement.
"So, what are you getting at, Phil?"
I'll ask you another question. Have you ever felt like standing up and shouting "hallellujah!" or "amen!" during Sunday morning worship or during a particularly on-point sermon, but didn't? I have. Why didn't I? I was avoiding the proverbial crack on the floor. I've been conditioned to keep my emotions in check so as not to disrupt the services. Peer pressure rises up and smacks me down.
I can't tell you how many times I've been up on the stage, strumming away to a great hymn or praise song like "Blessed Be Your Name," and wanted to just start jumping up and down and singing at the top of my lungs! That song has such profound lyrical content that it makes me almost forgive Matt Redman for singing it in that annoying British accent! I'm singing along to his live recording of it now. Love it. I'm so free to dance like a fool in the privacy of my music room at home with an audience of God and my 3 yr. old daughter (she's singing, too! COOL!). Why can't I let go of that self-consciousness in public? Why am I so reserved? Have I really put that tight of a cap on my emotional expression? It's tough to retrain habits that are so well established.
Imagine, tomorrow morning I'm strumming along and the Spirit moves on my heart. I decide not to push it back down any longer. I smile, close my eyes, and begin spinning in circles on one foot. Down goes my mic stand. Matt catches the headstock of my guitar in his right temple. The chior scatters like cockroaches as I flip backwards over the modesty wall. OK, maybe baby steps are the way to go!
I don't expect the world to change to accommodate me. I don't expect the congregation to, all of a sudden, switch gear into "charismatic" mode so I'll feel better about wanting to show outward expressions of joy and worship. Given the two extremes I've witnessed, I'll take orderly stoicism over disorderly charisma any day. It's just sad to me that this reservedness has taken such a strong hold of me.
What's the answer? I really don't know. Humility before God is always the beginning of worship for me. Maybe that should be my foremost focus. "Walk humbly with your God." If I'm truly worshipping Him, He'll open the floodgates of joy that will shine through in all things. Maybe I should be more concerned with DAILY worship. Maybe we ALL should. Can you imagine what Sunday mornings would look like if we'd all been TRULY worshipping God all week? Can't wait!
Friday, May 25, 2007
Top 10 things that should disqualify you from voting in '08...
Top 10 things that should disqualify you from voting in '08...
Current mood: nerdy Category: News and Politics
If the following statements apply to you - DON'T VOTE!! Stay on your couch and watch the reruns of "Walker, Texas Ranger" you Tivo'd last week.
10.) You believe that "sectarian violence" in Iraq means that they abuse their administrative assistants.
9.) You can't tell Ron Paul from RuPaul.
8.) You believe that "Women's Suffrage" is exactly what it sounds like.
7.) You believe our government is a democracy (news flash-it's not. look it up).
6.) You voted for Sanjaya, and meant it.
5.) You believe that "9/11 was an inside job!!"
4.) Rosie O'Donnell makes sense to you.
3.) You don't so much as giggle at the words "strategery" and "lock-box."
2.) You still believe the Easter Bunny lays Cadbury Cream Eggs. (ahem, Matt.)
1.) You think going hunting with Dick Cheney would be a blast!!
If any of these confused or offended you, enjoy "Walker, Texas Ranger."
Current mood: nerdy Category: News and Politics
If the following statements apply to you - DON'T VOTE!! Stay on your couch and watch the reruns of "Walker, Texas Ranger" you Tivo'd last week.
10.) You believe that "sectarian violence" in Iraq means that they abuse their administrative assistants.
9.) You can't tell Ron Paul from RuPaul.
8.) You believe that "Women's Suffrage" is exactly what it sounds like.
7.) You believe our government is a democracy (news flash-it's not. look it up).
6.) You voted for Sanjaya, and meant it.
5.) You believe that "9/11 was an inside job!!"
4.) Rosie O'Donnell makes sense to you.
3.) You don't so much as giggle at the words "strategery" and "lock-box."
2.) You still believe the Easter Bunny lays Cadbury Cream Eggs. (ahem, Matt.)
1.) You think going hunting with Dick Cheney would be a blast!!
If any of these confused or offended you, enjoy "Walker, Texas Ranger."
John vs. John (expletives deleted-but, still not for chilluns)
JOHN MCCAIN CANNOT BE OUR PRESIDENT!!
Current mood: amused Category: News and Politics
For those who haven't yet heard, Senator John McCain (R. Az.) got into a little bit of a disagreement with Sen. John Cornyn (R. Tx.) last Thursday in a meeting where a bipartisan committee was trying desperately to complete the latest version of the Amnesty Bill. Oops, that's the Comprehensive Immigration Act Allowing Those Who Break Our Laws, But Are Otherwise Nice Folks, To Remain In Our Country To Be Our (Almost) Slave Laborers Bill. Right? At least, that's what it sounds like coming out of the President's mouth. But that's yet another rant.
So, what were these two Republicans arguing about? Well, as it seems (I'll have to go off of 3rd party information here, because I was not invited to this meeting, and niether were you. Apparently we don't know as much as Sen. McCamnesty, er, McCain about illegal immigration. Read on.) McCain was getting a bit annoyed by Sen. Cornyn's repeatedly voicing concerns about the number of judicial appeals that will be granted illegal immigrants (What? JUDICIAL APPEALS? They're illegal!! How can you appeal that?! "It wasn't me?"). He accused Cornyn of being against the bill from day one (true), and said that he was only trying to "torpedo" the bill (probably also true. Kudos to my favorite Senator, John Cornyn! Sorry, Kay). McCain then said that Cornyn's objections amounted to "chicken ____." As in "poultry excrement." Now, that's comedy! A guy who's selling us all down the river has the GALL to try and shout down a man who truly has the backing of his constituents (how're those numbers looking, McCain?). McCain is apparently living in a dream world where giving amnesty to illegals translates to Hispanic votes going to Republicans (namely, John McCain) in the '08 elections. Dream on, amigo...
Now time for the backstory breakdown. McCain has been quite a naughty boy when it comes to attendance at his JOB. He hasn't cast a vote in more than five weeks, because (you guessed it) he's been out stumping for the presidency. (When's the last time you didn't show up for work for 5 straight weeks because you were trying to get another job?) Granted, his aids have been attending the meetings for him, and he's been in contact with other Senators discussing strategies of how to get the bill passed. Here's the problem - McCain, believing to have ironed out most of the rough spots already (with Ted "Chappaquiddick" Kennedy, no less), made plans to be in New York later that evening for a fundraiser for his campaign. He and Sen. (*Hic!*) Kennedy had planned a press conference at 1:30 p.m. in which they were to announce a compromise on the bill. He arrived in time for the "meeting." Clock is ticking. Cornyn won't stop talking for the (legal) American people. Press conference is looming. Time to take on this irritating upstart...
"Chicken (excrement)!" Wow. That'll shut him up. Maybe not...
Cornyn then accused McCain of being too busy campaigning for president to take part in the negotiations, which have gone on for months behind closed doors. "Wait a second here," Cornyn said to McCain. "I've been sitting in here for all of these negotiations and you just parachute in here on the last day. You're out of line." (You go, boy!!)
"_____ you! I know more about this than anyone else in the room," shouted McCain at Cornyn. He's telling the truth. McCain helped craft a bill in 2006 that passed the Senate but couldn't be compromised with a House bill that was much tougher on illegal immigrants. McCain really does know more about screwing up this issue. Well, probably not more than Kennedy, but that's - what? - another rant.
So, after McCain's invitation for Sen. Cornyn to fornicate himself, other senators had to get between them to keep them from getting at each other. Yup, that's the rumor. I would've spent good money to have been in that room.
The bill? Well, as you probably know, the agreement was reached. Cornyn didn't sign on. Good for him. Nice to know someone in Washington has a conscience.
Oh, and the press conference went ahead as scheduled. McCain joined nine other senators, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff (glad to see he's busy watching the border), and Commerce Secretary Carlos Gutierrez ('cause what's more COMMERCial than exploiting an entire race of people for votes?) for the big announcement.
After making a few comments, McCain left for New York. Let's hope he raised ALOT of money. When Billary, er, Mrs. Bill Clinton, beats him (assuming he gets the nomination from the Republicans) in '08, maybe he can use what's left over of that cash to help offset the tax burden about to be applied to us all by the Democratic Congress. When he left for his fundraiser in N.Y. he missed his 43rd straight vote, this on the $2.9 trillion budget outline.
JOHN MCCAIN CANNOT BE OUR PRESIDENT!!
Current mood: amused Category: News and Politics
For those who haven't yet heard, Senator John McCain (R. Az.) got into a little bit of a disagreement with Sen. John Cornyn (R. Tx.) last Thursday in a meeting where a bipartisan committee was trying desperately to complete the latest version of the Amnesty Bill. Oops, that's the Comprehensive Immigration Act Allowing Those Who Break Our Laws, But Are Otherwise Nice Folks, To Remain In Our Country To Be Our (Almost) Slave Laborers Bill. Right? At least, that's what it sounds like coming out of the President's mouth. But that's yet another rant.
So, what were these two Republicans arguing about? Well, as it seems (I'll have to go off of 3rd party information here, because I was not invited to this meeting, and niether were you. Apparently we don't know as much as Sen. McCamnesty, er, McCain about illegal immigration. Read on.) McCain was getting a bit annoyed by Sen. Cornyn's repeatedly voicing concerns about the number of judicial appeals that will be granted illegal immigrants (What? JUDICIAL APPEALS? They're illegal!! How can you appeal that?! "It wasn't me?"). He accused Cornyn of being against the bill from day one (true), and said that he was only trying to "torpedo" the bill (probably also true. Kudos to my favorite Senator, John Cornyn! Sorry, Kay). McCain then said that Cornyn's objections amounted to "chicken ____." As in "poultry excrement." Now, that's comedy! A guy who's selling us all down the river has the GALL to try and shout down a man who truly has the backing of his constituents (how're those numbers looking, McCain?). McCain is apparently living in a dream world where giving amnesty to illegals translates to Hispanic votes going to Republicans (namely, John McCain) in the '08 elections. Dream on, amigo...
Now time for the backstory breakdown. McCain has been quite a naughty boy when it comes to attendance at his JOB. He hasn't cast a vote in more than five weeks, because (you guessed it) he's been out stumping for the presidency. (When's the last time you didn't show up for work for 5 straight weeks because you were trying to get another job?) Granted, his aids have been attending the meetings for him, and he's been in contact with other Senators discussing strategies of how to get the bill passed. Here's the problem - McCain, believing to have ironed out most of the rough spots already (with Ted "Chappaquiddick" Kennedy, no less), made plans to be in New York later that evening for a fundraiser for his campaign. He and Sen. (*Hic!*) Kennedy had planned a press conference at 1:30 p.m. in which they were to announce a compromise on the bill. He arrived in time for the "meeting." Clock is ticking. Cornyn won't stop talking for the (legal) American people. Press conference is looming. Time to take on this irritating upstart...
"Chicken (excrement)!" Wow. That'll shut him up. Maybe not...
Cornyn then accused McCain of being too busy campaigning for president to take part in the negotiations, which have gone on for months behind closed doors. "Wait a second here," Cornyn said to McCain. "I've been sitting in here for all of these negotiations and you just parachute in here on the last day. You're out of line." (You go, boy!!)
"_____ you! I know more about this than anyone else in the room," shouted McCain at Cornyn. He's telling the truth. McCain helped craft a bill in 2006 that passed the Senate but couldn't be compromised with a House bill that was much tougher on illegal immigrants. McCain really does know more about screwing up this issue. Well, probably not more than Kennedy, but that's - what? - another rant.
So, after McCain's invitation for Sen. Cornyn to fornicate himself, other senators had to get between them to keep them from getting at each other. Yup, that's the rumor. I would've spent good money to have been in that room.
The bill? Well, as you probably know, the agreement was reached. Cornyn didn't sign on. Good for him. Nice to know someone in Washington has a conscience.
Oh, and the press conference went ahead as scheduled. McCain joined nine other senators, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff (glad to see he's busy watching the border), and Commerce Secretary Carlos Gutierrez ('cause what's more COMMERCial than exploiting an entire race of people for votes?) for the big announcement.
After making a few comments, McCain left for New York. Let's hope he raised ALOT of money. When Billary, er, Mrs. Bill Clinton, beats him (assuming he gets the nomination from the Republicans) in '08, maybe he can use what's left over of that cash to help offset the tax burden about to be applied to us all by the Democratic Congress. When he left for his fundraiser in N.Y. he missed his 43rd straight vote, this on the $2.9 trillion budget outline.
JOHN MCCAIN CANNOT BE OUR PRESIDENT!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
