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The ramblings, meanderings and stream of consciousness of a middleaged, short guy.

Wednesday, August 20, 2003

Well, today it seems official. My days are numbered. My boss told me today that I basically have 90 days left in my position. I guess there are several up sides in all this. 90 days is a lot better than two weeks. My kids and wife love me. That's another plus. I can drink beer again, that's pretty sweet. Let's see . . . what else?

I'm certain there is more, I'll have to get back to you on it.

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Ever have one of those moments that you pray you can remember a long time from now? Not just in a vague nostalgic way, but in a clear, precise, multisensory kind of way?

I had one of those moments the other day with my 5 yr old boy.

We were seated at the top of the steps talking and out from my daughter's room came our lop-eared rabbit, Cookie. (Now Cookie is one well-fed herbivore.) He comes over to where we are sitting and I begin to pet him. So, my son Joseph joins in as well. And I'm trying to teach Joseph to be gentle, because 5 yr old boys tend to be as gentle as a jackhammer. And then it happened.

Joseph leans over and gets face to face, nose to nose even, with Cookie. I caution, 'Careful Buddy'. "It's ok Dad. He likes it." He then proceeds to rub noses with Cookie. When he finishes, he sits back up and Cookie scampers toward him, raises up on his hind legs and rubs noses with Joseph.

I'm not certain if it's the tenderness, the innocence, the gentleness of the moment or what it is, but I hope I remember that moment on the steps for the rest of my life.
Ever have one of those moments that you pray you can remember a long time from now? Not just in a vague nostalgic way, but in a clear, precise, multisensory kind of way?

I had one of those moments the other day with my 5 yr old boy.

We were seated at the top of the steps talking and out from my daughter's room came our lop-eared rabbit, Cookie. (Now Cookie is one well-fed herbivore.) He comes over to where we are sitting and I begin to pet him. So, my son Joseph joins in as well. And I'm trying to teach Josheph to be gentle, because 5 yr old boys tend to be as gentle as a jackhammer. And then it happened.

Joseph leans over and gets face to face, nose to nose even, with Cookie. I caution, 'Careful Buddy'. "It's ok Dad. He likes it." He then proceeds to rub noses with Cookie. When he finishes, he sits back up and Cookie scampers toward him, raises up on his hind legs and rubs noses with Joseph.

I'm not certain if it's the tenderness, the innocence, the gentleness of the moment or what it is, but I hope I remember that moment on the steps for the rest of my life.

Saturday, August 16, 2003

I read a good bit. (At least that's what my friends tell me.) I like to read. I like to think other people's thoughts. I like to be stretched. I like to discover. Some days, I like to escape. Reading seems to do all those things for me.

But something that has troubled me. I travel in circles where books are almost faddish. You know: Everyone is reading so-and-so, because everyone else says it's groundbreaking. Sometimes people I know will go so far as to get together and talk about what was so earthshattering. But then, after a week, or month or so, that's it. A new groundbreaking book comes along with its earthshattering tenets and it's off to the races again.

I want to be a part of something (organization or organism) that stops and says: "Cool! This book really rocked. There is something to it. Now, before we read anything else on this subject, let's figure out what to do with what we've read. Let's collaborate and discover how this makes how we do life different and find ways to measure our progress."

Does that sound naive? Maybe it is.

But I don't want to just read, hear and think important discoveries. I want to live them.

Maybe that makes me an idealist. I'm good with that.

Tuesday, August 12, 2003

It's a little after 4 am (ET). Another sleepless night. I'm not worried. Nor am I anxious. My thoughts are simply busy. Noisy. Constant. Like the fan in the bathroom that drones on and on. After a while, I stop hearing it. After a while, it becomes background noise. After a while, I forget that it covers up sounds in the house that I am missing.

That's how it is inside my heart. The noise is constant. Background noise that buffers out the quiet stuff going on inside me. So much clutter. So much glitz and glitter. So much wann-a-be, could-a-be, should-a-be. I long to quiet my soul before God.

Maybe that's why I'm up, just to be quiet. Maybe I shouldn't worry about how tired I'm going to be today, or how much I have to get done, or when I'll be caught up on my sleep.

Maybe I'll just sit still for a while. Experience God for a while. Love Jesus for a moment. Live in the present.

Yeah, that's what I'm going to do.

See you on the other side of this moment.
OK. Proof that I'm an old guy (or at least getting there far too rapidly.) I've not a clue about html. So I just went into the template and copied what I saw and exchanged it with the things I've wanted. Getting the links to authors and books seems to still be kicking my tail, but I vaguely remember something about "old dogs and new tricks ". . .

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