My son loves puzzles and (allow me to brag) he’s pretty good at them.
Intended for older kids? No problem. He’ll work diligently trying connections over and over until at last he’s looking at a completed picture, staring at me expecting applause as he puts the last piece into place.
My daughter, on the other hand loves the taste of puzzles.
Continue reading“Houston, we have a problem.”
Apollo 13 is a good movie. I think we can all agree that Tom Hanks is a national treasure second only to the movie National Treasure 2. Both star Ed Harris so I rest my case.
Here are some little known facts about that movie that I’m certain you didn’t know:
Continue readingI may have avoided every math class possible in college but I do know this equation:
When we found out that a 2nd child was on the way, we jokingly put up an eviction notice on the nursery room door for our son Joshua. As the belly got bigger and the due date got closer, the laughing stopped and we might be in trouble.
Instead of being just outside our bedroom door, he was across the house. And instead of his window being just under a street lamp, it was dark after sundown.
We were sure that darkness would be a problem so I went out and bought a new night light. I rushed home to plug it in (in the middle of the day) and that night I realized that buying a night light on clearance has consequences. This thing doesn’t put out a lot of light. The room is still full of scary shadows but now there’s an orange glow across from his bed.
I was sure that we’d have to find a replacement.
But then he slept through the night just fine. And the next night. And the next.
I snuck a peak at him recently and saw him sleeping peacefully but his little frame was bunched in the corner of the bed where he could see the night light through a gap in the side rail. And that’s when it hit me…
He was able to rest just knowing the light was there. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t showing him everything in the room; he could sleep easy in the shadows because he was looking to the light.
I felt a little silly because I can’t do the same in my soul.
Spirtually speaking, I’d much rather have a powerful night light that scares away the shadows of life and lets me see all my surroundings. I want to be able to know where the threats are and – even better – where they aren’t so I can rest easy. But that’s not how things work around here…
In the book of Exodus (the story of the Israelites fleeing Egypt) it says God went ahead of them as a fire by night to guide them on their journey. A lot of times we find ourselves in the “dark night of the soul” and the shadows seem to overtake us. If you’re in one of those times I’d like to tell you a couple of things:
Tonight I am looking at my son and hoping that I can learn from him how to sleep in the shadows.
One of my 2018 resolutions is to read the Bible from cover to cover. So far I’ve gotten past the first chapter of Genesis. Yay, progress! But I’ve been thinking about God’s first words: “Let there be light.”
Hot take: We human beings are created with the desire to worship.
We see examples of it everywhere – we worship the guy who can run fast and jump high. We worship people who pretend to be other people for a living. We worship pastors, CEOs, politicians and even fictional comic book characters – because we all have this desire for a hero.
My son is now a walking, running, talking toddler. That fact would be sobering if not for the fact that it drives me to drink.
Each week it seems there’s some new discovery, skill or phase that we get to navigate as first-time parents. Lately, I’ve found that when I call to him from across the room he either avoids looking my way or runs away entirely. It’s not until I provide proof that I’m not trying to hassle him that he’ll come to me willingly. It’s not a great phase.
I’ve been thinking lately about what really matters. Black lives? All lives? They matter? What does it mean to matter?
In school I learned (thanks, mom!) that matter was what made up the universe. It was fuel to be turned to energy, it made up the huge boulders of mountains and the soft skin of babies. It was, google tells us, the stuff of the universe.
When applied beyond science, we use the term “matter” in a similar way – we say things matter when they have significance. When they are a part of building the world, society, culture around us. To me, matter is what persists. It is what it is – through trends and twitterstorms. It’s the real stuff of our lives.
In today’s world of “fake news”, celebrity gossip, and fantasy football it’s easy to spot the difference from a distance. It’s not so easy to see what matters in the moment.
Looking back on just my last 48 hours I can see an embarrassing number of examples where I focused too much on the stuff that so quickly fades away – like the hour I spent trying to remember if Bill Paxton and Bill Pullman had ever been in a movie together. Doesn’t matter. But the 10 minutes that I spent blowing bubbles and giggling with Brenna and Joshua on the driveway early today created a memory that will persist – it’s an experience that… for lack of a better word… matters.
It’s the real stuff. The stuff that cuts through the bullshit and speaks to the truth of our existence. The stuff that’s so easy to see in the future or past but so hard to notice in the present. If only we had some help in recognizing these things… oh that’s right, we do:
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. – 1 Corinthians 13:13
So there we have it. Faith, Hope, Love… those are the 3 things that remain. The 3 things that matter. So…
What’s the matter with you?
Spoiler alert: I’m not God.
Some of you may have already figured that out, but in my first year as a dad I have had a few moments that have reminded me of how God the Father must feel watching over me… moments that left me feeling like a big baby:
This is a story of the the best nightclub I never saw.
Drai’s After hours Club was an exclusive spot hidden a few floors beneath a casino called Bill’s Gamblin’ Hall & Saloon (and it wasn’t as classy as the name implies). In the middle of the night party people with high hopes would make their way through the decaying casino floor and assemble around an elevator that lowered the lucky chosen ones into paradise. Guarding this elevator were a group of bouncers so remarkably douchey that I will refer to them as the Summers Eve Bros (SEBs).
Early one morning in 2008 I stood in a crowd of people yearning to earn a trip down into the basement wonderland.
I feel the need to explain why I was so hyped to see this club. It only opened very late after most clubs had closed down. It was notoriously hard to get into and I’d heard of surprise musical performances, celebrity appearances and one rumor that everything was made of candy like that scene in Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. The everlasting gobstoppers must be incredible.
There were two keys to my Operation: Drais. The first was faking confidence. I stood tall in a button-down shirt I had bought two days earlier at Ross Dress For Less. I tried to put out the vibe that my name was on the list and I’d already be in the club except the dumb SEBs had never learned how to read.
The second strategy had proven successful before – I put my more attractive friends in front of me so the bouncers would wave them in before they spotted me. The “He’s with me” Loophole had worked before… but more on that later.
As we stood against the velvet rope I felt despair growing in my stomach. I watched the most attractive girls I’d ever seen pout because they were being ignored by the SEBs. The jocks on the other side of the velvet rope would huddle up to discuss a candidate, openly mocking their outfit or looks then occasionally they’d point into the crowd and wave in someone they deemed worthy. At one point they actually did a choreographed “high five” dance. If I’d not been homeschooled I would say it was like high school all over again.
Despite the despair, a part of me hoped the SEBs would be won over by my relentlessness. It wasn’t until an NBA player walked past me and on the elevator that the truth sunk in: It didn’t matter what I did that night, I would never be cool enough to get into Drai’s.
Now year’s later, Bill’s Gamblin’ Hall is gone but I still think about that night. That experience gave me a new perspective on the Gospel of Jesus.
I like to think Drai’s was sort of a heaven on earth. I imagine people gathered around the gates of heaven hoping to be let in. They try to earn it or buy it or get in on a technicality but the club is so exclusive that they only let in perfect people. No one is getting past St Peter.
“For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” – Romans 3:23
But my faith teaches me that (metaphorically) Jesus is the way into Drai’s. I like to imagine Jesus walking up thru that crowd at 4am and the SEBs rush to unhook the red rope for Him. He turns and points at me – just as I am accepting that I have no shot at making it – and says, “He’s with me.”
I do accept that I simply am not good enough to get in on my own.
I do believe my name is on the list even though I don’t deserve it.
I do believe that’s Good News.
One night back in the mid-90s I noticed my tv skipped from 13 to 15. I tuned in directly to Channel 14 to discover it was the scrambled signal of HBO. As a sheltered homeschooled teenager, I knew this was a major discovery.