The Whole Asking Thing...

Matt 7:7-11 tells us this...
7 Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: 8 For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. 9 Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? 10 Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? 11 If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?

John 16:24 "So far you haven't asked for anything in my name. Keep asking and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete.”

John 15:7 “If you abide in me and my words abide in you, you can ask for anything you want, and you will receive it.

Matt 21:22-24 Jesus said to his disciples, “Have faith in God! 23I tell you with certainty, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ if he doesn't doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it will be done for him. 24That is why I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it and it will be yours.

I truly think you gotta' ask yourself this question, "Why am I amazed at what God can do, and has done for me, if I truly believe in my heart that he can do anything?" We might pull a chair out from under the table, and then sit down without a second thought. After we are sitting comfortably, do we then shout out..."Wow, I can't believe it! This chair is holding me up! Guys, can you see this? This is simply amazing!" Take what I am saying into its rightful context. I truly believe that God can do anything, and has done everything. "Every good and perfect give comes from above" But I still ask myself this question of why am I amazed, or in wonder, at HIS works when I profess that he can do nothing less than anything?

I believe, as many do, that words have power. If we walk around saying what a gloomy day, then we should not get too upset when things seem down and out. If we constantly say, "I love this item, or I love that item" then the meaning of love to you could very well be widdled and filed down to nothing. Is my God an awesome God? Absolutely. Is he this mighty God I serve? Without a doubt, but for some reason, wonder, amazement, and wow, creeps into mind when I ask for something, and God delivers. I imagine the big guy up there to be saying to himself..."What the dileo? You ask, I gave...and your amazed? Did you not read my book?" I encourage you to ponder this while you walk around in sheer amazement, living in a World Gone Mad.

'Aats What I'm Tawkin' about!

And wreck all that yummy goodness?

For roughly 10 years now I have cut off the ends of chip and candy bags to reduce plastic overage and tidy it up a bit. It doesn't matter if it's a bag of Doritos, bread, or Black Forest Gummy Bears, I'd rather not get all the chip and/or candy residue on my hands or clothing. Plus, it looks better when there is not as much baggage, pardon the pun.

A friend of mine thinks I am insane because of this little idiosyncrasy. Today I caught myself slicing into an individually wrapped Twinkie, for no other reason than I did not want to just tear into the bag and screw up all the yummy goodness. Let's face it...we're talking about something very serious here. How many people are starving in China? And I'm gonna' take that for granted while ripping into something as vitally important in a world gone mad as a twinkie? Please.

My point? I don't really have one...except to say this: I'm guessing my friend not only wanted to voice his unsolicited opinion, but also wanted to shame me into changing a tradition me that goes back 10 years, but here's the kicker. I care more about the reasons I do what I do, than I do about his criticism. Get it? That's where my priority on the matter stands. What about you? Where do you stand in your priorities? Is it more important to stick to your guns when a friend, or even a stranger confronts you about "slicing the length of your Doritos bags"? Or do you fold under pressure and slip into the background for fear that others will mock you. The way I see it, I will be mocked by someone, somewhere, sometime...an awful lot. I might as well cut the bag my way than to fold simply because they cracked a few jokes at my expense. Besides, we are talking about a twinkie, here! And after all, it is hard to beat a perfect twinkie in a World Gone Mad.

Why do I need to pick up after myself?

It's certainly a messy job in a theater, a baseball stadium, football arena, or perhaps even in your own house. I spent an hour debating this very question with a couple of friends of mine last night. I was a little more than shocked at the response. My belief is that we clean up after ourselves whether it be in a theater, stadium, or grandma's house. My kids pick up their toys, their jammies, and pretty much anything else they may be leaving behind. We teach them to clean what's left of their dirty plate into the diposal, rinse it off, and place it in the dish washer. We are doing our best we can as parents to teach them about responsibility, so I am a little more than surprised to have a discussion with an adult who neglects to pick up their own popcorn bin and soda cups at the theater simply because, "No one else picks up their stuff". According to the discussion it has become culturally acceptable to leave your own mess behind at places like a movie theater or a sports arena, because everybody does it or the garbage bins are so far away that it becomes a hassle.

I believe we can actually rise above what culture expects of us as Christians, let alone as human beings. If culture says it's ok to sleep with a person of the same sex and/ jump off a building...I believe I can rise to a standard that says I will remain faithful to my spouse (who is by the way of the opposite sex) and can coem to the conclusion that whatever the problem is, it si not worth throwing myself off the top of a building and causing even more hurt and anguish.

I will sometimes fail because I am not perfect or righteous, but I do my best to follow the golden rule set forth by my faith which is to, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." These are difficult words to live by, but on something as simple as picking up after myself, and teaching my kids to do the same, I would much rather fall on this side of grace, setting an example, and showing a little kindness to the person with the broom and dustpan. I recall working at Sam's Club trying to put myself through college, gathering carts in the parking lot. I wish I could express in mere words the joy I experienced when someone actually took care of their own cart vs. the anger I felt when they would leave it in th emiddle of nowhere and I would get blamed for not doing my job properly...as if it were my job to pick up after them. That's ludicrous. If those customers tooko care of their own carts, it's not that I would have lost my job, that in itself was not my job, but rather an added bonus, cleaning up after people who did not care to do it themselves.

Below is a poll regarding the formentioned topic and we will be discussing this on an upcoming podcast at our website. We could use your opinion on this and we appreciate your time!

The Nicki 500

It was my son's birthday today. Nick turns five years old. What a great age. So, I thought, hey, why don't we hit the McD's! Good food, good times! (their next slogan) Anyway, so I pick him up from Joyce's office and he says, "Hey, Dad, I'll beat you to the door". Aha! I thought to myself. A challenge from the young lad. Battle! "I accept your challenge" I said to the ambitious child. He beats me to the door. He then beats me to the car, and to the restaurant. Upon completion of eating, he goes, "Hey Dad, I'll beat you to the car" and so away we went; jogging for all I was worth. And of course, the little tike beats me to the car.

We get back to Joyce's office, and I got a little sneaky. I ran, as fast as I could to the door with the little guy trailing far behind. I yell, and scream and leap for joy. All the while he moaps to the door in a gear so slow you might think he was traveling in reverse.

"I won!" "I won" I said as he walked his last few steps to the door. He looks at me with a gleam in his eye and the sun in his face. He says to me, "It's not a race Dad."

Can you believe it? That's what his mother and I have been saying when all three of the boys get into a race to the house, to the car, or even to the toilet, and he is just now picking up on it? Now? When I win the most important race of the entire...day? He's a funny guy.

Where do you place your Significance?

The World's Biggest...

I find it rather humerous that we as Americans can so easily and quickly say "It's the world's Biggest, Best, Tallest, Brightest, furriest, deadest cat in the world, in all the worlds, in every world, and on and on. We tend to exaggerate just a wee bit. I once asked my father as we were pasing by the famous Hillsdale fairgrounds in Hillsdale, MI if it was true. There is a ginormous sign on the side of the barns reading, "The World's Largest Fair" and I asked how we would actually know? What about the fairs in China? What about the cat fairs in India? How do they measure the size? Is it by how many people come? How many merchant booths they have? How many hogs get sold? How many cats get shot for 25 cents? Unfortunately, he had no answer. If I were to ask the owl, I fear he would say that same to me as he did to the little boy who once asked him about the number of licks it takes to get the the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop. The voice tells us that the world may never know. What does that mean? Can the world itself actually tells us things...I think perhaps...not, but you could ask anyone...anyone, who listens to my show, and they will tell you that although I am not a thinker, I am an eater. I can polish off a bag of black forrest gummie bears like nobody's business, baby! 'Cuz I'm not playin around when it comes to food...it's the real deal.

I did, however think this parody of the world famous Mac Book Air, the world's smallest notebook/laptop, was rather funny. I don't know if it could be labeled as the world's funniest parody of the world's smallest laptop, but then again, we do all reside in the world gone mad...go figure.

New Survey about Cat Ownership

A few places in the World Gone Mad

Where did these commercials go? To where have they disappeared? Back when folks used things called VCR's, I would have a tape cassette in the recorder, timed out right, ready to record any good commercials so that I could watch and re-watch whenever I pleased. Now I figure...what's the point, right? Where has the creativity gone? have we run out of good stuff insise of a very short 15 year window?

Look at the commercials today? Are they intriguing? Do they cathc your attention? Why? Are they creative or do they use tricks and tactics and body parts to attract and retain your attention for 32-61 seconds? I would check myself, however I don't have cable or satellite...which might be a good thing with regards to the messages I receive on what's available today and how poor the programming has become.

I was listening to a song/message from an artist a couple days ago that was played at numerous high school graduation ceremonies until it died a few years back. It's just thi sguy giving decent advice with a good musical background. one of his statements were that when we get old, we'll fantacize of how when we were young, prices were low, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders. Ya' know what...he's right. I don't recall New York going from one senator/governor to another who has admittedly committed adultry while in public office. Does that mean it wasn't happening back then? Nope. We just didn't hear about it. Does that mean commubnication hasd gotten better, more elite, faster? Are we sneakier now because we can discover trash like that about people? Or were we more sneaky 15 years ago becuase politicians hid thier private life better?

I was talking to my lovely wife, Joyce, about the gas prices being 98 cents a gallon when I was growing up, and we as kids respected our parents and grandparents. Now they have psycho therapists for 4 and 5 year olds and the most common drug handed out on the market is riddlin, to middle schoolers. Why? Are they more hyper today then they were 20 years ago? Please!

So, before we start ripping out hair out, tearing our clothes to shreds, and weeping uncontrollably, might I suggest a nice hot, shot of espresso, and a few screenings of the following or preceding commercial to help soothe your wear mind and body in a World Gone Mad:

Peoplenip

I've had a Jones for Cinnamon lately. I don't get it. All the sudden on a Sunday afternoon my taste buds perk up and start chanting..."Red Hots, Red Hots, send some now! Send some now!" And I can think or focus on nothing else until I can scrounge around and find either red hots or Cinnamon bears...otherwise I go completely nuts, of course my wife would say that I act the same with or without the red hots...which is where we see things differently. I am afraid that I am addicted to cinnamon bears and red hots. I would say that it is hereditary because I recall my mother carrying in bags the size of me filled with red hots, and would frequently grab a handful as we watched ALF, but thought nothing of it at the time. So, barring that, I would say that it is in the genes, however, I recently read an article regarding cinnamon bears and red hots and the peoplenip that is injcted into each one in post production. Peoplenip is similar to cat nip, however it is tastless, odorless, and has no color, very much like IO9 powder used in the film, "The Princess Bride". It is virtually undetectable to all felines and humans who adore cats. I on the other hand would very much enjoy seeing a reality tv show about cats surviving the bitter cold of the freezer and blistering heat of a microwave and/or clothes dryer...I'm just sayin'.

"I Have The Power!"

I was sitting at Taco Bell yesterday, writing some notes and munching on some taco grindage when a group of about 7-8 kids walk through the door with two adults. I imagined they were from a pre-school or private daycare out on a lunchtime excursion during Spring Break. I return to my notes fumbling through the child chatter of what they were about to order. I recall my early days growing up and what excitement bubbled within as we would pull into a Burger King, McDonald's or Taco Bell for lunch or dinner. It was indeed a treat as my father was very cautious with how the family bones were spent...and did so in a healthy way. As a child, pretty much everything is huge! You slowly enter the aroma-filled restaurant with every kind of fat and grease still lingering in the air and your taste buds began to saliva while your stomach awoke and prepared for some food. You could just sense your stomach saying, "OK fellas, time to get up and around. Somethin out there smells good, and I got a feeling it's comin' this way. Fall in for roll call!" Of course this was prior to the government stepping into the restaurants and regulating how much taste they can actually offer to one individual before he or she sues because their is just too much fat on their plate. For shame...but that's a blog for another time.

I would step up to the counter and look at the broad menu which seemed to stretch for miles with all kinds of burgers, fries, and drinkies. A kind old lady behind the counter working her way through social security would welcome me with a big smile and ask me what I would like. I was a king, and she was taking orders for what I was about to feast upon.

These kids reflected the same excitement. They all placed their order and one of the adults escorted them to what seemed like the perfect place to them...just a couple of rows away from some crazy w. fatman attempting to get some work done. Let's be honest, what kind of poor, humble youth worker goes to a fast food restaurant to get some work done? Honestly? (You have to say it like Dr. Evil, otherwise...it just really isn't funny at all. And if you have no clue who Austin Powers is, then completely disregard the previous 2 sentences and move on)

The adult had yelled back to her colleague, as politely as possible as one could talk loud enough so that she could be heard from across the room, "If you want to bring the food, I'll get things started and we'll go ahead..." her words softer towards the end of her message, but it sounded like they were going to pray. All of the sudden, from a few rows away from me arose a small voice singing a prayer to Jesus. The entire restaurant went dead silent and all I could here were the fryers behind the counter and the scratches of my pen. I put the pen down, looked up, and sure enough...all eyes were drawn to this little girl and her innocent prayer to her Heavenly Father thanking him for the food and the day. Smiles slowly crept to the fellow patrons sitting and eating their entrees. "How Amazing" I thought to myself. The power of prayer, in the name of Jesus...and stopping people dead in their tracks, silencing all, amongst a World Gone Mad

Aah, the art of...wait a minute! Why is it an art?

I have checking accounts at two different banks, and believe me when I say that I am in no way bragging about that. I just simply have a hard time switching all of my auto-pay, auto-deducts from one account at one institution to my account at the other.

I was strolling up to the window at my credit union and rolled down the car window, popped out the capsule, slid in my check and deposit slip, placed it back into the vacuum...and waited. I changed the radio station a few times, popped in a cd, made a couple of personal notes...and to this point had received no greeting.

I look up to the window, but of course could not see through their reflective privacy glass...so it was as if I were looking at myself. This is wear I began to practice some patients...thinking to myself, well, there's a car in the other lane, I guess you could say they are...nope; that doesn't cut it. You can't say they're busy simply because there's another car there. Maybe the lady behind the counter was having a bad day. Although I believe it is part of their responsibility to check their personal problems at the door when they come in for work, because their job is all about us at that point...not about them, however, this course of thinking does not reflect an attitude which states that I should be handing out smiles to those who need them. I should be thinking about how I may be of service to others as my hero as exemplified throughout his life...not how can they serve me.

After another couple of minutes, I received the capsule back, a little cash, and my receipt along with a very short and quick, "Thank You" which to their own dismay, is what I have come to expect from this credit union. Afterwards, I take the dough over to my bank, stroll up to the window, slide the money in the capsule, press the button, and once again...begin to wait...patiently. Within 1 minute, I hear an angelic voice saying, "Welcome to Wells Fargo, my name is Angela, ...making a deposit today?"

With confusion draped across my face I reply, "Yup. That's it." A couple of moments later I hear the capsule coming through the flute and a voice very politely saying, "Thanks so much for visiting us today, you have a wonderful weekend." Again...remember I was at a bank. I drove away asking myself, "Where am I? In What Twilight Zone episode am I? Into What dimension did I accidentally fall? With money and receipt in hand I continued to drive away with the notion that perhaps the art of customer service is not dead, even though it should have never been considered an art form, but you rarely see it in the World Gone Mad.

Your son has what???

We hop in the car to get something to eat and right away he says, "Dad we gotta play our game!" I had to think for a moment as to which one it actually was. Then he follows with, "I spy...something Blue." Before I could answer he blurts out, "It's the sky. Ok, your turn Dad."

We went back and forth like that the whole way there. He'd start out saying what he saw, and then tell me what it was before I could get the opportunity to answer. I found it to be rather humerous and recall the game being played a tad different when I was growing up, but what do I care. The rules are less important then the players.



We hit the McD's, spread our arms like airplanes, and raced inside as if our lives depended on it. Right away he spots a friend of his from daycare, shouts his name, and runs to him with arms wide open, without thought to whom was around or what others would think of him. They hug like brothers and Nicki, my son, expressed how much he missed him (which is funny 'cuz I think this kid has only missed a couple of days...but as the song goes, who's counting?) All the Mcd's gals do their "awe" thing like girls do when they see something cute. I placed our order for nuggets, bbq sauce, fries, coke, and then one fo the workers, which must have been this kid's mother stepped out from behind the counter, walked over to me and began to tell me that it's not a good idea for Nicki to hug her son because he has strep throat and ahsn't been feeling too good.I thought o myself, "Well it's a good thing he is at home resting up where he is not contageous to the general public. I look over to check on Nick, and his 4 year old friend has his shirt lifted over his head, baring his chest, and in his loudest volume possible expresses how he can't go back to daycare until he gets rid of his ugly rash! That's about the point my facial expression of pride and joy for my son who is able to toss aside his fear of what other might think of him for hugging his friend turned into anguish for the mere thought of mile high doctor bills and a bed stricken four year old. Crap! Why does my son have to be so nice, and loving, and charitable? Why can't he be more like his mother?



(Kidding) I am ever so glad that my loving wife has dispensed hugely important qualities into the lives of our kids such as love, charity, and kindness towards others. And aside from the word RASH ringing over and over in my ears and thew thought that my youngest son had just bumped chests with this kid who has unfortunately been sick...spending time with Nicki for the few minutes we had together was undoubtedly the highlight of my day.



Is there someone you know that has been wanting to spend time with you? Is there a way for you to make that happen? What moveable obstacle is standing in your way?

"Box up your valuables" ???

I was on my way to the office this morning and as usual was thinking about the course of the day...all the important things, I had a good steak breakfast, did I rememer to pack my lunch? What were we having for dinner? Do I need to pick up more Black Forrest Gummie Bears...ya' know, all the important stuff. I turned to look at a sign which read, "Box up your valuables where they can be safe. Rent a lock box today!"

I thought to myself...interesting. I had never had a lock box before. I've never known anyone who has owned/rented a lock box at a bank...at least not that they have mentioned. I had seen them numerous times in spy movies and bank robbing movies. I often thought it would be neat to have one, carry in a big brown leather-bound bag with a few dollar bills peaking out of the top (with the rest of it full of phone books and newspaper - to make it look like I had a large sum of cash - just to mess with their heads. It's good for 'em, trust me) But alas, io have never opted to rent one. The sign got me thinking. Valuables? What is valuable to me?

What is valuable to you? For me, in terms of the physical realm, obviously we need at least a little money to purchase goods and services - the basic necesseties of food, clothing, shelter...but that which is most valuable to me I could not fit into one of those little things. I value my wife, my kids, my family, and my friends, and above all...my relationship with my God. HE tells us in the scriptuires to store our treasures in heaven, not here on earth in some lock box, which isn't to say that it's a bad idea to rent one for certain reasons and things which you do not want lost or stolen...I can understand that as much as the next minister. The point is that the bible teaches us to store our treasures where moth and dust can not destroy and where thieves can not break in and steal...for where our treasure is...there will our heart be also.

There is nothing wrong with having stuff, or a safe place in which to keep it, but if your main focus is on your stuff rather than your relationships and most importantly your relationship with God, then it is most definately time to re-evaluate your priorities...and I would do it quickly before you become consumed by your stuf, at which point you may very well be adding to the problems of The World Gone Mad.

I just wasn't thinking...

The Komets were playing at the Coliseum this past weekend, and I thought to myself..."Self, did you not have a great time when you went to see a hockey game as a kid?" Absolutely! I asked my two oldest boys, ages 11, and 6, if they wanted to go see a hockey game, somethin different than renting a movie or playing a vid game..."Sure," they said with a spark in their voice. I thought, sweet! Some Father/son time...just them and I...a night with some greasy - not good for you, full of fat and carbs and sugar-type food with some sugary soda to chase it all down while we watch tough guys battle it on the ice...who wouldn't want to go?

We stopped at Rally's before heading to the coliseum - smart move on my part if I do say so myself. They do have the best fries known to mankind! We got burgers, fries, and cokes, and then it was off to the big game. I recall as a kid the long walk from the parking lot to some huge building, and then waiting in line to get our tickets, and then walking up some huge ramp, I mean orka huge, bigger than Brad's mom type huge, and when we finally got to our seat, we shed the jacket and cheered, screamed, yelled, jumped up and down - I didn't really know why, I was just a kid being a kid at the time. What did I know?

It was great to have those memories come rushing back as we entered the coliseum, picked up our tickets, and found our seat. I was enthused by their expressions throughout the beginning ceremonies and their excitement for our team...it was very cool for me to be there while they experienced everything for the first time. I can imagine our heavenly Father taking pleasure in seeing us enjoy something pure and rich and good, for the first time. HE must be enthused to see our excitement rise as our senses are triggered - sights and smells, and the memories made.

Speaking of which, I think I may have goofed, and will hopefully be forgiven. You see, i am far from a rich guy. I'm luck y to be able to spell the word, "wealthy". I am, but a poor humble podcaster and thus attempt to be rather conservative in our spending...not a penny pincher by any means, but I certainly hate to waste money on things I see of no value...just for the sake of buying something 'cuz I have money in my pocket...'sss just how I am. Here's where I made the mistake: The game ended, Komets, our team, won 5 to 2. Victory tasted very good. We grab our stuff and off to the exit we headed. On the way out, Christopher, 6 yrs old, asked if we could get a hat. I thought of myself, we have plenty of hats at home that he never wears, why would he want another? Of course I replied, "I don't think so, bud. You got hats at home that you never wear." His face drained of enthusiasm a wee bit, and I took it as just a disappointment that he didn't get me to buy anything.

He asked again, "Well, Dad, can we get something? A shirt? Something?" I thought...why? Why do we need to buy anything? He's had some ice cream, a soda while there at the game, we had some Rally's earlier...why do we need to spend more money? So, of course I stated my position again, "Chris, we don't need to spend more money. We're good. We've had fries, ice cream...we're good." I didn't hear him ask for anything else on the way to the car.

We hopped in and headed for home. The boys we're out like a light within minutes leaving just me, the radio, and my imagination. And then it hit me. I felt like such a moron. He had this poster that salespeople were just handing out for free as we walked into the arena, and Chris really wanted one, so I grabbed it and then he hung onto it, which inevitably meant that I would be hanging on to it. I though to myself, can't we just pitch this thing? I don't want to be carrying this around the rest of the evening. I figured that if I ask him to carry his own poster, then he'll eventually pitch it out of exhaustion of carrying around this thing. I was wrong. It never left his sight...or his hands. He held on to that free poster for dear life. Just like I held on to the one I received nearly 20 years ago at my first hockey game. I am a moron. Why did I not see it earlier?

He wasn't trying to get me to spend money. He only wanted to get something else by which he could remember the evening he spent with 'ol Dad and his brother at the hockey game. Looking back, it wouldn't have cost but maybe $10-$15 dollars...but oooh no! I had to be ever so frugal. I just wasn't thinking.

So, as a bit of advice from someone with fantastically clear hindsight who screws up on a regular basis: If you are the one looking for a souvenir, don't be too upset at the one with the money if they tell you, "NO." They are simply thinking about saving a little money.

And if you're the one with the money, who's got a couple of guys asking you to part with a small amount, it's ok to save, but don't be TOO frugal...they are just looking for something to help them remember that special day in the World Gone Mad.

Clutter

I remember time and again as a little guy walking into my Dad's office and seeing a mound of paperwork covering what at one time had resembled a desk of some type upon which one would conduct work, but you really couldn't tell it was a desk. It reminded me of our excercise equipment that has now turned into furniture...you know what I'm talkin' about! You buy it in January with every intention on using it at least three to four times a week and by February it now holds three pairs of pants, a couple shirts, and your favorite hoodie.

I absolutely hate clutter. Let me say that again for it bears repeating...I absolutely hate clutter. It drives me insane. It is increasingly difficult for me to concentrate when there is a great deal of clutter surrounding me. I can actually feel it crawling towards me and it actually sucks the oxugen out of the air making it hard to breath or even speak. Before I know it, it grabs me by the leg and drags me to the bottom of its depths like an alligator and rolls me around until I stop moving and gasping for air.

We are all attacked, each and every day by advertising clutter, music clutter, sound and video clutter, which can make it hard if not impossible to concentrate on what's important, or as they say in the 'ol country (Italy) Importare'. The clutter interrupts our thoughts, our mind, and can literally destroy our concentration. It detours our focus from where it needs to be...which is on God.

The more clutter we have in our daily lives, the more destracted we become until we come to a point where God is covered up by our clothing and the Bible has been burried under mounds of paperwork. We neglect to spend time in the word because we have fooled ourselvwes into believing that we have so much to do. Because we never shut off the radio, tv, or ipod, we never spend time in silence and being still, and wanting to hear HIS voice. And listen for his direction.

May I offer a suggestion? or a challenge? And if you're not up for something that may very well be the hardest thing you have ever had to do...then click away and read not further.

If you are serious about wanting to clear away some of the daily clutter that disrupts your focus from your Lord, and my Lord...then shut off the TV, and the radio, and the ipod, and the dvbd player. Find a quiet place in your house...and sit. Close your eyes. Relax. And listen. For 5 whole minutes. It may even change your life...if you allow HIM to. Do this, and it could give you a whole new perspective on this World Gone Mad.

Who provides for you?

I was in my car on the way home from a weary day. My legs and eyes were heavy with a lack of sleep, and late nights. You see I had not been sleeping well due to some financial woes which were keeping me up and we were really feeling the squeeze on the 'ol wallet. I was thinking to myself, "What am I gonna' do?"

So there I am, in the car, cruising along, trying to stay awake and stay in one lane of traffic repeating the question, "What do I do?" and the statement which followed, "I gotta provide for my family!"

All the sudden it hit me. The question had changed. It was as if Jesus himself was sitting in the back seat tapping me on the shoulder and saying, "Pardon me sir, I didn't quite catch that last phrase. Would you mind repeating it for me please."

I said it again. "I gotta' provide for my family.

And then I pictured him in the back seat, looking at my tired eyes in the mirror and saying,

"Now let me get this straight, my child. Who is it that provides for you?"

I felt like pulling over the car, hopping out onto the side and balling my eyes out. I had been seriously mistaken and paid for it with many nights of lost sleep (not to mention all the fresh, tasty espresso that did me no good) It was my fault. I was trying to carry a burden that God never intended for me to do in the first place.

Again, I pictured my Lord in the back asking me, "Now who is it that provided you with a home, a shelter, a roof over your head?"

I sheepeshly replied, "It was you, Lord. Thank you for reminding me."

"And refresh my memory, but who was it that introduced you to your lovely wife?" I pictured him asking...

"No one else but you, oh Lord."

"And would you be willing to tell me who gave you those three little healthy bambinos? Who keeps the clothes on their back? and the food in your fridge? and the Black Forrest Gummie bears in your lower right desk drawer?" (I didn't know he knew about the bears. Now I gotta' share 'em)

Again I would reply with, "It was always you, Lord. You have given me every good relationship and possession that I have."

With tears in my eyes, even now as I write this entry, I sat there as I felt him say, clear as a bell..."What makes you think...I would not continue to provide for you now?"

I sank deeper into my chair as those words bellowed over and over in my head. Apart from HIM, Jesus Christ, my Lord and savior, I am nothing, and I have nothing. It is only because of HIM and his loving mercy to forgive all the stupid stuff I have done in my life, that I have been blessed with positive, uplifting and encouraging relationships with friends, and more importantly my own kids, and especially my loving wife. I would have none of that to worry about if it were not for HIS grace. Thus there is no need to worry...God has only asked me to be a loving husband to my wife, a loving father to my kids, a good son, brother, and friend to those around me, except for cats. Jesus asked us a long time ago to cast all our cares upon HIM, and he would do the rest. I needn't worry about how to continue providing for them, even in the most dire of circumstances...as they say in the union...'SSS not my job. God has asked me to simply manage my relationships and my stuff as best as I possibly can and in a manner that reflects his love toward us and glorifies HIM, and HE will take care of all the complicated stuff.

Perhaps God placed me in that situation to remind me that it is HE who takes care of me, and provides for me and my loved ones. Maybe he placed me in that situation to tell this story becuase I am not the only person out there who stays awake at night wondering how to keep the heat on in the winter, or keep the roof over our heads, or keep food in the fridge...and that by this story you might be blessed and reminded that none of it is ours anyway, we're to simply manage it the best we can until our next assignment rather than try to take over control and worry about anything and everything which would be nothing more than a waste of our energy and time in a World Gone Mad.

The Broken Pieces

I was in the kitchen with my son last week and we were cleaning up a little bit....well...ok....we were cleaning up a lot. Whatta-ya-gonna-do? I'm a kitchen guy. I like to cook. When I cook, I like to have a clean kitchen as opposed to my wife who can cook quite comfortably with stacks of dirty knives on the counter and a table full of stuff...but she does make a mean plate of pasta!

So, there we are moving stuff off the counter and wiping it all down, when we go to move the microwave. Ever done that before? You move a toaster, or a mixer, or some appliance that typically does not budge from the point you move into the house until the point you pack it all up to move into your next house? Yea...it's a little messy back there. Needless to say, there was a bit of a mess underneath and behind the microwave. My son carefully pics up the espresso machine and carries it to the table as we clean the area. As we are replacing the appliances into their proper positions...my son, God bless him, grabs the espresso machine, and the small 4 cup carafe comes crashing to the floor shattering into a hundred little pieces. You could tell we were father and son at that moment, cuz neither one of us moved...blinked...or breathed. He was too scared as to how I was going to react, I was deflated because I went all over the city trying to find a local coffee joint that could replace the last glass carafe that my wife accidentally broke. I kept whispering to myself, "it's just a glass, it was an accident, he was only trying to help. He's just a kid. I was a kid once, a long...long time ago." I asked him to go get the broom and we began to clean up the small mess. Days later, I look back and see how that same experience is much like our relationship with God.

You see the Father moves our stuff around and reveals all the dirt left behind and underneath everything we attempt to use to hide our mess. And when we lose it, he's right there to pick up the broken pieces. If we are wise enough to allow him to do so.

The Power of Glaze

Who would have thunk it??? The power of the fryer, and oil, and bread, topped off with a rich puddle of hig fuctose corn syrup, sugar, magic powder, and other fatty items that your mamma would turn in her grave if she saw you downing a few handfuls before, after, or during supper...well...I had a little idea!

On my way home I stopped off at the video store to check on a flick, when it hit me like a mack truck...the simple whif of glaze. I'll admit it, I was powerless to its fatal attraction. I could not run. I could not hide. The sweet smell of fat on fat caught my nostrils and had entranced all my senses drawing me closer like a moth to the flame. I was trapped. I tried to escaped, but nearly cracked my skull after having slipped on my own saliva. Wouldn't that be a headline, "Family sues after a poor, humble. podcaster and Father of three slips and falls on own saliva drawn from the smell of a nearby donut shop" page two would be about some lady sueing for hot coffee.

Any-who...I paid for the box of heaven-sent goodness and breathed in the aroma all the way home. I carried it like a trophy into my castle announcing to the neighborhood, that I, master and commander hath brought home for my family, glazed donuts. After dinner, we ripped into the box like we were digging for...well, glazed donuts. It was great. my eldest son began a canga line, and the other two boys followed in line. What was I going to do...disappoint them. No, I say. I grabbed my fourth or fifth (you tend to forget as your heart goes into a sugar coma) and started chanting the lovely song, "Donuts, donuts, doooooonuts" as we marched around the kitchen table in laughter - chugging the milk, chomping another bite of perfect goodness (which I truly believe God had allowed us to create for us to endure such things as...Mondays, Sunday drivers, and instances when the local Walgreens runs out of stock on the only true to form candy: Black Forrest Gummie Bears) and circling my wife who was shaking her head, which I think was nothing more than self-pity for her not joining us in our crusade for that which is Holy and pure...the glazed donut. Why else would my own wife not join us, unless she too was trying to survive in The World Gone Mad?

The cheeseburger

You get in the mood for certain cravings. You know how it is...chocolate chip cookie dough blizzard, krispy kreme glazed heaven, excuse me...I meant to say donut, and of course...Black Forrest Gummie bears. Again, you know how it is.
Something overpowers your mind and while you had full inteded to go directly to the bank, the grocery store, and then home...somehow you get sidetracked. You find yourself turning into Burger King with visions of Cheeseburgers dancing in your head. liek a zombie you slowly pull out your wallet, hit the drive through, and kindly place your order for three cheeseburgers. (What? Don't give me that look when I can't even see you! You, all condescending and pias! I was hungry. It's better for you then ordering 2 cheeseburgers and a large fry...is it not? I rest my case)
Then it hits me...I hate going through the drive through at Burger King. Hate it!!!! They take forever. Why? Why must they take so long. There are barely any cars in the parking lot, it is clearly after lunchtime as the hour hand zooms past 1pm, and there I sit, like a nin-come-poop waiting in line at the BK for a cheeseburger that I could have just as easily done without. I can do nothing 'cuz they already have my money. Now they have my time as well. And all the sudden, after roughly 3 years of my life pass me by, they motion for me to pull forwad, and hand a small paper bag with steam rolling off the top. I pull forward as the aroma of fresh (sort-of) hot burger and melted cheese fills the interior of my poor, humble, podmobile. I pop out the first little bundle of joy, unwrap, and sink my teeth into what experts could only describe as a fat bath waiting to pre-maturely carry me to my grave. I smile. The second burger went down just as nice and as tasty. The thrid and final was a tad bit difficult to fit down the 'ol hatch, but my friend, the stomach, with whom I have a very good friendship, made some room on the side. You see, my stomach and I have been friends for a very long time. We've had kind of a pact, a contract if you will...one that states if I am friendly toward smy stomach, and heed to its completely legitamate requests of fatty burgers, salty pizza, buttery popcorn, and Black forrest gummie bears, it promises to do all it can to keep thing nice and civil like down below. It's like the hulk...you would like it when it gets mad, but then again, what else would you expect from a person living in TheWorld Gone Mad.

The Santa Claus Interrogation

A guy pulls out of a Liquor store parking lot with a Santa cap, and Santa Suit hanging out of the trunk of his car. I think to myself...no wonder Santa didn't come to our house last year! Someone had kidnapped Santa Claus mob style, stuffed him in the back of the car, and has been interrogating him ever since. I can just see it now. Santa, tied to a chair with red licorice. sitting in a dark room with one beam of light shining down upon the once jolly old elf...who has now been clean shaven and stripped to his whitie-tightie undershirt, and his bright red boxer draws being tormented by Islamic Extreemists with Krispy Kreme donuts and flamin Hot cheetos just inches out of reach taunting him for the where-a-bouts of his secret toy factory located somewhere around the North Pole. They neglect to feed him, but rather sit there eating Allen Bros. Nicely Marbled Steaks under a lights basting of A1 sauce and sauteed mushrooms. They deny him any water, but rather set an ice cold IBC Root Beer on a nearby table, and promise him that it's all his if he agrees to give up the toy warehouse, he may go free with the IBC, and a fresh bag of Black Forrest Gummie Bears. Of course we know the end of this story...dont we? Santa didn't say a word, and he winds up in the trunck of the car while the UN plan a rescue attempt, might I see geothermal, earth friendly rescue attempt, whose plans are to be set in motion once they save the Polor Bears and Empire penguins from certin destruction because of us careless humans. And the worst part about it is, he didn't get a drop of the IBC...or a single Gummie Bear.

Strange Old Ladies

Picture this. I am pulling out of a parking lot in tow, or at least trying to pull out, and this little ‘ol lady is just kind of…standing there in the middle of the road. She’s looking up, down, and around in circles. And there I sit thinking…what is the deal? Do I not have more important things to do than to sit here waiting for the mind of this lady to return? Finally she realizes that she was smack dab in the middle of the road, picks up her grocery bags, and walks kiddie corner, as opposed to just right across the road, like any normal person, I pull out, and in my review mirror I could see the guy behind me who must have been a little less patient peel out of the lot and nearly hit the old woman. I wasn’t sure whether to be upset that she was almost hit, or that he missed her by a few feet. Kidding. C’mon, I may not be the nicest person in the world, or a politician, or even a thinker, but I am an eater. And although the last comments have absolutely nothing to do with the rest of this blog, I get in the strangely awkward funny points where I can. With a young punk squealing out of the parking lot and nearly hitting the old, aimless woman would not only have knocked out the teeth she may have just recently received through the mail, but may have seriously injured her, sending her to the emergency room, and who knows what kind of family she has and needless to say what kind of insurance she may have. Of course he would have received a bad gig on his record for wiping out the glue of society all because he had to wait a few seconds more because someone had lost their way…proof positive once again that we live in The World Gone Mad.

Light dawns

What is it about the wee small hours of the morning that brings about a slew of inspiration for creation on everything from the real of personal realization to the wonderful world of spirituality. Some may argue that they are one and the same. I can see that argument, but that is not what this personal ranting is all about.

For years I have been staying up through 1, 2, 3am in the morning sifting through papers, scribbling notes for my next book, watching movies, or completing another video project. Perhaps it is because there is a world of difference between what one might accomplish during the daytime and what he can swim through at night. You don't have business email, busy phone calls, steady appointments, and of course your average, everyday "non-intrusive" and "un-interrupting" telemarketing call to see how little I like my current phone company and if I would care to switch. Now-a-days you will receive the same thing through a text or call coming in on your cell, that is of course unless you are being scammed by someone who grabbed your cell ID while your parents drove under a bridge with you in the backseat texting your future girlfirend/boyfriend.

In these wee hours of the morning, as things quite down, your creative being awakes, opens the eyelids of it's piercing ability...and comes to life while you type away sipping Monster or red bull as you perfect your website...only to be changed a week later to keep up with the Jones's. (not Jones Soda...ask your folks)

I guess you could say that if we lived in a sane world, one could work and play during the day and recoup...rest up...grab some shudd-eye when darkness falls...but alas we do not reside in a world of sanity which is the main reason we creative type people excel when the bats awake from their nap and our creative buds begin to bubble past midnight thus proving once again that we indeed live in the World Gone Mad.

Michael and the Bear

For years, I have been watching those 30 second Coke commercials with
the big polar bears and their cute little polar bear cubs flopping around and
discovering this magical drink we have all come to know so well and love
just as much as the bears. When they pickup an olde fashioned glass coke
bottled filled with the liquid goodness, and then pop the top and drink of the
soda of the gods, and then sigh, and grin, you can't help but to jump up from the sofa, race to the fridge, and pop the top of an ice cold Coca-Cola and enjoy....just like them. You smile as you retreat to the couch with the knowledge that for the next few minutes, nothing can interrupt your joy, for you have found the fountain of youth and the world could be coming to an end, fire and brimstone rain from the sky, cats could be taking over the universe, but it's all good....'cuz you got a Coke and a smile.
So I have always looked forward to the Coke commercials around Christmas time and they help to get me in the Christmas mood and as the first one hits the airwaves, we take the fam to the store and stock up on Coke and chex mix, for the grand commercials of the polar bears have sent out the hidden, subliminal messages that, "YOU MUST HAVE THIS IN YOUR HOUSE FOR THE ENTIRE MONTH OF DECEMBER, THROUGH CHRISTMAS, AND THEN SOME." Who am I to argue with logic.
You can imagine my surprise when I won a great big Coca-Cola Polar Bear at a Christmas party years ago. I carried it home with pride and it has sat near our Christmas tree every year since.
I came home from work one day, and was shocked to find my bear had been moved. It was no longer sitting in its faithful spot as you enter into Casa Di Bakerboy. I perused the room and found our poor bear being beaten by my eldest son. "What in the world?" I asked myelf, "What in the world would cause such hostility towards a stuffed teddy bear whose main purpose in this life is nothing more than to bring peace, love, and coke to the many homes of fine grown-up children, such as myself, and there's my son, my own flesh and blood, beating the snot out of this poor, helpless bear, bearing the coke sign and wearing the coke scarf with pride. What has happened to my son?
I walk to the couch to ponder this horrendous act of inexplicable rage and merciless anger. I sit, hands cupped over my face asking, "Why? Why? Why?" I then hear a news report about Al Gore and his "Inconvenient truth" about global warming...and then it hits me. Lightening struck my brain as an epiphany unveils opon little 'ol me...a poor, humble, podcaster...with nice hair.
Michael must have been watching this report and became infurriated with the lies that spewed out of the mouth of our former Vice Pres. It was obvious. Michael thought it was probably better for there to be no polar bears at all than to have to put up with this stuff about how we as humans control the atmosphere and are killing the animals, and then the focus of the tree-huggin liberals is shifted from saving humanity, to saving the bears (ya' know, cuz they do so much for us like....umm....let me get back to you on that) and so he took it upon himself to attempt to rid us of the problem all together, so that we could get on with our lives. He grabbed the nearest bear, and started to whale on it (no pun intended) You will all rest tonight nowing that the bear is safe, and is still under our tree to this day, which is of course proof to you, that we indeed continue to live in the world gone mad.

Slipping through the Cracks

What in the world is that about? Ok, so we have another kid, acting like a little baby, who bacause his girlfriend dumped him (yup, that's never happened to anyone except him) he lost his job at McDonald's (I guess his life is over, how does someone go on in this crazy little world having been fired from McD's? Oh, the humanity of it all) and he got kicked out of his house for not following rules. So, what? This is the only kid who has to follow rules? Are there no parents out there who lay down the law for their kids? I commend the parents on their attempt to not only keep order in household, but also trying to teach this little 19yr old baby some respect.
In case you have been under a rock for the past few days I am of course speaking of the little brat who had some bad luck, stole his step-dad's AKA Assualt rifle and went on a shooting spree at the Biggest mall in Omaha, NB. Does human life not matter anymore?
The authorities say this kid left a note. I know, your saying that he's not a kid anymore...he's 19! Obviously regardsless of the passing years, this little fame-hungry boy decided to remain an adolescent and his actions reflect exactly that. Are you kidding me? An adult. Adults don't, at least they shouldn't if they are acting like an adult, go on little rants in a rage and attempt to go out in a hale of fire because they lost their job and got dumped by their girlfriend. The scriptures tell us that< When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I thought like a child, but when I became a man I put away childich things." Don't these kids ever get a "No" from their folks? Or a bad mark on their paper. Well, I guess in some schools they no longer get a red mark on their paper for fear the child will feel badly about his grade and his spirits may be broken thus rendering him depressed and must now go on medication. What a joke. And, if you live in the lovely state of MA, you might be able to vote for or against a new law saying that children may no longer receive spankings as a form of correction from their parents. They say it killd their spirit and once again, they become depressed. The Bible, however teaches us that a Father disciplines his children if he indeed loves them.
How many times have your parents told you to be in by a certain time, or be back at the house by such and such time? Why do they say that? Because they care. Why do you get punished if you do wrong? For one, you knew it was wrong to begin with. Two, becuas they love you ya' dope. They want you to learn from your mistakes so you won't continue to make the same mistakes in the future. There, does that make it easy to understand?
Heaven forbid we take responsibility for our actions and start acting like Americans, or at least the way Americans used to act. We used to take pride in our work, and face the darkside head on regardless of the consequences...not baby it down so that we don't feel bad. Some sports programs offer a trophy to EVERYONE...win or lose because it is confidence inspiring! Why even try? That's the message we send these young people. Why try because everyone will end up with a trophy at the end...and there's really no need to keep points.
I'm not talking about winning and losing. I'm talking about setting our own kids up for failure when they become adults and go into the real world to compete for jobs, salaries, and in some cases food! We can't just tell them...ahh, it's ok. Here's a trophy for you too. They have to learn that there is a winner, and there is someone who lost. Does that make them a loser? Only if they embrace it and walk around with this chip the size of Brad's mom on their shoulder saying...wo-is-me! I lost. There's no hope. Why move on. They have to face the fact that someone will be better than them at some things, which is the reason to be to try harder, to go for the gold, to move higher, not give up. If everyone gets the same thing, then why try? If you ping a Harvard graduate up against a guy who just barely graduated High School two days ago, and they go in to a video editing studio, both get a job doing the same thing, and both making $65, 000 per year...then what was the point of the older gentleman going to Harvard, investing his time, talent, and finances into learning?
Can't our students, teens, and kids work for what they receive anymore? Does it have to be handed to them on a silver platter because we don't want to hurt their feelings? Or their spirits? Or get them depressed? I know there are quite a few of us who work 2 and 3 jobs to give our kids everything they want. I commend you for your efforts, but they are being applied in the wrong area. It is ot about getting our kids what they want. It is about giving them what they sincerely need, and that's PARENTS. STRUCTURE. FAITH. A BEGINNING. A FOOT-HOLD.
It's part of life. The Bible tells us to run as if we are to get the prize, not run and keep with the status quo, or in other words run at the same pace as all the others. We are to strive harder, reach higher, and do all for the glory of God, not for ourselves.
Far too often we think that it's all about us, and heaven forbid we lose our footing and have to get back up. Some of us would rather sit on the floor and be picked back up. Our parents, teachers, and friends should be in our corner, but that does not mean they are there to fight our battles, and ease the pain if we happened to get hurt. Granted, they can help heal our wounds, and coach/mentor us. It is said in the Bible that we rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those in mourning. That means your parents can hi-five when your excited about a play in the game, a score on the soccer field, or a level on the xbox 360. And when you've had a rough day, they're there with you, because they too have had rough days growing up. Their job is to HELP get you back up, dusted off, and back on the horse.
This 19 year old baby writes a note that he left for a family with whom he was living which said, "I am sorry. At least I will be famous now, and I will go out in style". What a hoser. Fame to this kid was worth more than his own life, and that of the people around him. It's like the kooky lady who had an abortion and a hysterectomy (an operational procedure to eliminate the possibility for you to become pregnant) because she said it was just selfish to have children because it kills the planet. Unbelievable. How does such a person come to that conclusion. Of course directly after, she held a press conference saying how she is "still able to travel, see the world, and hang out with her friends"
...but having children is selfish? What a crock! Nonsense! I am steeming up just thinking about such stupidity!
I listened to some of the commentary after the shooting in Nebraska, and the question they started asking was, "How did this kid slip through the cracks?" The answer is he didn't. He didn't slip through anything! He dove right through as much as he could. He stole a gun from his step-dad. He was incarcerated for delinquency of a minor in possession of alcohol, he had been fired from McDonald's for allegedly stealing $17 from the cash drawer, was kicked out of the house for not obeying his parents. And still, you are probably sitting there as you read this and say, "So what! His parents probably had harsh rules like clean up your room, do the dishes, wash the car every week." They were trying to teach him a little responsibility. The next thing you know the media will be blaming the parents. "Oh, where were the parents in all of this?"
Can we not take responsibility for our own actions? What we do? What we choose not to do? And how we choose to go about it? Are you not your own person? Are you a product of your environment or is your environment a product of you? The scriptures teach us to be no longer conformed to the patterns of this world, but to be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Change your pattern of thinkning. Step up! Take some responsibility for what you do. Change the world around you and stop blaming others for what happens to you or how you treat those around you. All this...proof positive that we indeed live in The World Gone Mad.

Cat Food

So, there I was walking through walmart to pickup a few extra things. Cat food, above all else was on the list...placed there by my lovely wife. And thus, I find myself walking through that stupid cat ailse with all the tree-huggin cat lovers. What's worse, it was Thanksgiving Day! Yea. That's right. I am a procrastinator. On a four day weekend, I waited until Sunday night at 9pm to finish my homework. That's how I roll.
Anywho, as I squeezed past all the other people with no life I quickly noticed all the different brands of cat food, in one ailse, at one store. No one else stood there in amazement. I was dumbfounded, as usual. Why in the world would there be more than 1 brand of catfood? I counted 10. 10! I had to stop at ten because that is about as high as I can count without removing the socks and shoes. I noticed there were more bags with different spelling, so there must have been other brands in addition to the 10 that I counted! WHY! I ask in the name of all that is holy and good! They're cats - not people. Do they even have taste buds? I'd have to say no, otherwise they would'nt stoop to eating the crap they call "Cat Food" sold in pretty little bags from over 10 different brands across the nation. It's a scam, a conspiracy. Again, at the risk of sounding redundant...They're cats. Do they care what brand of cat food they eat. NO! They don't sit at home talking to their owner saying, "Oh, sir/madam, I ask that you not purchase that aweful brand of cat food that you so foolishly brought home last month. It was nearly unbearable and I had to choke to get it down. I require something a little more smooth and robust, with a bold flavor."
They're cats. They poop in a box and sleep all day. the different brands are more about the pride of the owner than the preference of the feline. "I chose sheeba for my animal. Nothing but the best will do." C'mon, people. Is there nothing else that we can allow to consume our time and money more important than to slowly drift into the cat ailse and baby step our way from one bag to the next reading the labels for nutrition information and flavor to avoid irritating the allergies and accomodating for the taste of our pets. Again, they're CATS! Just another indication that indeed, we live in the World Gone Mad.

The Forgotten Stuff

Have you ever noticed, it doesn't really matter if you are in a hurry or not, but your wallet and your watch, two of the most important items on your person are most likely to be forgotten. Some people have a morning routine which includes cleaning up for the day, throwing your clothes on, and then sliding the wallett in the back pocket, keys in the front pocket, followed by change and/or a small pocket knife which is just the right sice to open an envelope, slice through a piece of scotch tape, or get tackled by three airport security gaurds the size of Brad's mom who go by the name of Bertha, Tiny, and the Beast, pin your hands and ankles to the ground while a scrawny, little man in a dark suit walks up, takes the 2 inch knife from the guards and asks you what your planning to do with a dangerous object like that.
Where was I? Oh yea, the forgotten. My brother and sister-in-law just left the house and wasn't in any specific hurry, but did have a destination. They stopped at the gas station to get robbed while they fuel up their tank, reached into their back pockets and realized that they had bother forgotten their wallett/handbags (I believe my brother carries the wallett, and my sister-in-law carries the handbag. I could be wrong. I overheard Mom talking about a trip he took to San Fransisco, had a nice Quiche, and talked about poetry. Don't ask, don't tell. ((Kidding))
To top it off, neither one of them had a watch on. I'm quite sure that I have found myself in the same situation...not in San Fran eating quiche and discussing poetry, but wallet, watch, cell phone all forgotten and there I am looking like a dope in front of the fuel up station wondering what I could tell the clerk to ask for grace in allowing me to go get my wallet and pay for the fuel. Whatta' ya' gonna' do?
So the next time you get ready to leave the house, contemplate what you may be doing, what time you'll be doing it, and how much money you will require to get it done, and whom you might call while paying for whatever it is that you'll be doing at whatever time it might be that you are doing what it is you'll be doing while paying the tolls/fees and discussing the whole matter with your boyfriend/girlfriend and you too might avoid an emergency of forgotten items leading to another indication that we do indeed sometimes forget the most important items of the day while living in the World Gone Mad.

Passive Coffee

Why would someone do this? You gotta' be passionate about something, otherwise, why get involved? Would it be because if you don't do it, no one will? How many times do we fall into that little trap? I could name quite a few into which I have fallen...but that's not really necessary. Let's just list some random examples...shall we?
Steak. Need I say more? Ok, for those of you who have yet to experience the thrilling rush of flavors from a well marbled, well seasoned, well aged steak...here goes. I meet wih a good friend and mentor of mine once a week for breakfast. We started with the little things like pancakes, and one week we might eat at a little restaurant in town, one week we might find ourselves eating at a chain...then we thought, why eat out every week? Not only does it become expensive, and the service leaves something to be desired, and you can't guarantee the plates, cups/glasses, or even the silverware wasn't cleaned by someone they happened to pickup on the way to work who was never really formally trained by his mom/dad to properly clean the dishes so instead he rinses them off with a little ice water, grabs the nearest rag off the floor left there from last night when an associate vomited all over the floor from food poisening because he was playing with chineese toys over his lunch break and somehow injested the little toy and the lead spread throughout his stomach...and...I digress.
Where was I? Oh, cleanliness, it may not be right next to Godliness, but it has to be in the same ballpark. So, we stopped eating out and started eating at home paying as much for a couple of steaks that we could quite easily season and marinade and grill for the same price we were paying for eggs and toast at the local restaurants. On top of all that, when you go out to eat, and your planning on getting into a nice deep Biblical conversation about life and all its complexities, the last thing you want to deal with is sitting in between a table of loud chatters on one side and vacationers who have been on the road since last Tuesday and their 15 children haven't slept all night and are just a tad on the irritating side.
If you're planning on cooking something as delicate and yet as scrumptious as steak, why not do it with passion. You can't just stick it on a pizza plan. place it in the oven and 15min later have a steakhouse tasting meal...nope! Doesn't work that way. It requires attention. The same thing with coffee. Too many people plop some freeze dried year old coffee grounds made from dirt and kitty litter into a 50 year old pot and add some tap water that hasn't been filtered since Moses parted the red sea. You just can't expect Starbucks to come flowing out of the reservoir when you thrwo things together like that without a second notice.
Do you remember how much care your Grandma took in baking ginger crinkle cookies, and dutch apple pie, and home smoked honey baked ham? Excuse me one moment...I hear the fridge callin' my name.
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Ok, I'm back. Now, remeber how much time they put into making it right? They didn't just throw it into a pot and take a nap - no! They put great attention to detail. They did it with passion. They took pride in their work. They made certain that when it came out of the oven the aroma was so powerful that as she turned around there would be your dad attempting to negotiate for the first bite while you stood there with your best puppy dog eyes, begging to lick the spoon, but if she would refuse, you were ready to play the part of Hansel and Grettal and take care of 'Ol Grandma so there would be no dispute over getting to lick the spoon.
Do you understand where I am going with this? Do what you love (within reason, legally, and biblically sound) And love what you do. Take pride in your work, and let others know that you are proud of the outcome of your project because they can see that you put forth your best effort. "Whatever you do, whether you eat, or drink, or whatsoever you do, do all to the glory of God"