#%$ Four Letter Words

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The Thinking Man sculpture at Musée Rodin in Paris

Lately, I’ve been spending a whole lot time thinking about words.  There was the week I spent focused solely on the word juggle. Didn’t really come to any giant breakthrough on the word, but I did realize that my study of the word juggle is about as bad as my ability too juggle.

I also need to mention the two weeks spent working deep in thought on the word “is”.  Surprising thing about the word is is that it is used quite a bit in the English language and is what I consider one of the most understudied words.  I’m still working on my thesis for the word, but I don’t know where the file is.

Recently, the word can’t has come under my microscope and has been at the center of my study. I’ve taken a real personal interest in the word can’t because for so many years the words has kind of defined who I was and for that matter still defines who I am to this day.

This is a "thought bubble". It is an...

My study of can’t started innocently enough one evening while I was out on a walk.  As I strolled through the warm spring evening, listening to the frogs croaking and birds chirping I started thinking about the all the thing I can’t do.

The list of things I can’t do is much longer in than the list of things I can do.  There are plenty of thing I can’t do, like write an award winning book, I can’t dance, I can’t sing, I can’t be the husband my wife deserves, and I can’t be the father my daughter deserves.  I must admit, my study of this word left me feeling rather melancholy and on the verge of seriously reconsidering what I think about while out on walks.  Maybe I should start following baseball or something.

At the turnaround point in my walk, I was downtrodden, focusing only on the things in my life I can’t do when a momentary flash of brilliant light filled my eyes.  I’d like to believe that it was a sign from God telling me that all will work out in my life, but it turned out it was a delivery truck driver playing with his high beams.  That momentary blinding light forced me to look at the word can’t in an entirely different way.

If we look at the word, I mean really look at the word something becomes apparent.

Here take a quick look at the word in all it’s splendid glory….

can’t

It’s a very simple word.  Four letters and an apostrophe.  I bet you’re all thinking yeah so what four letters and an apostrophe who cares.  Now take a look at the word again, however this time really stare at it, look deep into to the word’s meaning and letters.  Look at it like two young lovers stare at each other when sharing a milkshake with two straws.

can’t

Now do you see what I see?  Of course you do, it’s the word can’t.  When we really look at the word and begin to dissect it the beauty of what this words means in our lives becomes revealed.  Read the first four letters, C-A-N..  Can is a nice enough word positive in attitude.  You can do it. and all that jazz.

It’s when you add that t the whole thing changes into a negative word implying a weakness or inability to do something or does it?  Hmmm you ask yourself where are you going with this.

Look at the t, now really look at it.  Does it remind you of something.  You see a lowercase t looks an awful like like a cross.  I know you could pick a font where it doesn’t but for the sake of this post it does.

Now if we see the words as I see the word the entire meaning changes.  See the word can’t as an opportunity for can, with the help of Christ, don’t view the t as a negative thing preventing you from doing what you want to do, but rather as a call to prayer.  A reminder that you need the help of God to live you life to the fullest.

All those can’t s in your life will slowly become cans through prayer and the help of God.  You see, alone I can’t be the husband my wife deserves, but with the help of God I can.  I can’t be the father my daughter deserves, I can.  I still can’t sing or dance, but with the help of God, well the jury is still out on this one, but you see my point.

Look at your own life for all those instances where you think you can’t and ask for God’s help.  You will soon find yourself accomplishing things that you have told yourself for years that you can’t.

Been one of those springs..

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It has been a tough spring here in Minnesota, one of the tougher I can remember.  It’s the kind of spring that’s so tough to get through, boys as young a 8 are now growing beards because standing at the bus stop early in the cold mornings has toughened them up so much they now appear as grizzled mountain men.

Snow flake

I’ve hear rumors that spring will arrive and I can once again go outside without fear of losing an appendage to frost bite, but as of today they are just unconfirmed rumors.

My dog is as confused by the lack of spring weather as I am.  She is usually well into shedding her winter coat by now and evidence of her early molting can be seen on the carpet in the basement.  Thick tufts of hair are left behind from her midnight scratching sessions.  However, after going outside in last night’s snow storm I witnessed my dog head over to one of her shed piles and roll around in the lost hair in an attempt to regain the lost insulation.  It’s been that tough of a spring.

Don’t even get me started on the birds.  The poor little birds who when they began their migration all those weeks/months ago thought they would be ending up in springtime in Minnesota and not the frozen tundra that exists in their absence.  If one listens closely you can hear the female birds yelling at the male birds for making them leave so early.  It is as if they say “See I told you we should have waited until Fran and Herb left, but no we had to leave early to get the best nesting spot.”

I’ve watched more little birds this spring sit on the railing of my deck all puffed out trying to keep warm as snow flies sideways and pelts them in the beak.  Every snow fall this spring my wife has alway said “Those poor birds, we should really get out feeder set up.” to which I would usually reply with a “I ain’t going out there. It cold and snowing. Besides the birds are tougher than they look.”

Well, last weekend my wife arrived home with a small bag of bird seed which she and my daughter threw amongst the freshly fallen snow.  Soon enough our deck was full of small birds hopping too and fro picking up the spilled millet and seeds.  The once undisturbed snow quickly filled with the small birds tracks and discarded seeds.  Inspired by my wife, I even ventured out into the snow and hung up a full feeder for the birds.

A male Northern Flicker (or Yellow-shafted Fli...

I now sit watching two birds eating their fill at my feeder, and as they make a mess out my deck with their discarded seeds and such, Mathew 6:26 comes to mind “Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not of more value than they?”

This verse often comes to my mind when I watch birds or hear birds throughout the summer.  It is that subtle reminder to me that God will take care of me and I am not supposed to fill myself with the angst and worry of the future.  Just as God feeds the birds, he will take care of His flock.

But as my feeder rocks back and forth in the chilly spring air a new meaning to this verse slowly permeates my thoughts.  I am reminded that while indeed God will feed the birds of the air, sometimes he asks his followers to help.  He asks all of us who follow Him to feed no only the birds, but also each other.  We need to take this to heart and in our daily lives remember this by offering help to those in needs, praying for those who have no one to pray for them, and offering a word of encouragement to those who are downtrodden.

I remember that spring will eventually come.  The eight year olds down the road will eventually shave their grizzly winter beards and my dog will fill the floors of my house with enough dog hair to stuff a queen sized pillow.  God will continue to care for and feed me, just as he cares for and feeds the birds.

Birds

I Crossed the Line.

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I crossed the line.

Eventually, I knew it would happen.  The line had sat out there tempting me for years.  Every so often it would beckon to me softly.  Tempting me, daring me to cross it, but each time the line presented itself to me, I was able to resist the temptation.  That is until this past Saturday.

The day had started out like most other Saturday’s in my house.  A trip to the local coffee shop for a cup of freshly brewed coffee and some conversation.  Little did I know that as I sat and sipped on coffee cooled to the perfect drinking temperature and discussed future summer plans with friends that today was going to be the day.

Returning home from the coffee shop normalcy reigned supreme.  Housecleaning, a little internet surfing (I had to see how my favorite riders were prepping for the next days Paris-Roubaix race).  Little did I know I was mere hours from crossing the line, a line that once crossed there is no turning back from.

Josef Fischer

I dropped my daughter off at a birthday party and found myself with a few hours of alone time.  The wipers on the cars swished back and forth wiping the steady cold spring rain from my windshield.  I waited at the stoplight when I heard the line beckon.  It called my name, quietly at first and then growing louder with each rhythmic wipe of the wipers.  The car’s thermometer joined in when it chimed altering me to the near freezing conditions outside my car.  39 degrees and rainy lovely day.

When I returned to my empty house, before I realized what was even going on I was inching ever closer the line. A line I had resisted for years, offering excuse after excuse as to why I wouldn’t cross it.  But today I was inexplicably drawn to this mythical line a line I had successfully avoided for years.

I will admit it felt good to cross the line, it felt real good in fact, maybe a little too good.  Sweat began to drip from my forehead rolling down my wet face into my open eyes.  The stinging and burning making me feel alive.  Water rolled off my tires, spraying my back with a mixture of ice cold water and grit.  The cold spring air stinging my face, freezing my hand, and making me glad to be alive.

Every spring, when I’d see rain drops roll off my window, I always postpone my bike ride.  Preferring the comfort of my couch to the discomfort of the bike, but last Saturday I crossed the line and rode.  I rode a measly 22 miles, but it was pure bliss.  I was alive, I was on my bike, I was outside, I had crossed the line and had finally become a hard core cyclist.  No longer was I just the recreational cyclist who thoroughly enjoyed a Saturday ride.  I was the guy who despite the abysmal conditions threw my leg over the bike and began to pedal.

Riding in the spring rain had scared me for years.  It’s too cold, too wet.  My bike will melt, it’s not really a rain bike afterall.  Well guess what, bikes aren’t made out of sugar so they are okay to ride in the rain and as the miles ticked by I wasn’t as cold as I thought I’d be.  I wasn’t as wet as I thought I be, (turns out I was wetter, but that’s besides the point).  The entire ride wasn’t as scary as I thought it’d be. In fact, it has become one of my most cherished bike riding experiences ever.

Pavé under repair by Les Amis de Paris–Roubaix

We all have lines in our life that we need to cross every now and then.  We all put barriers up, whether it be a barrier to God or a barrier to our spouse.  Whatever the barrier is, our lives our full of lines.  Crossing those lines is scary, it leaves us vulnerable, exposed to the elements.

God call us all to a life of service and sometimes that service includes crossing a line or two.  It involves going out into the elements, exposed and vulnerable.  We need to remember that while God calls out into the elements.  He will never leave us alone.  He will provide shelter from the storm when it blows too hard, a charcoal fire to warm cold hands by, a cup of warm coffee and conversation to replenish your soul.

Look around your life, find the lines that need to be crossed and cross them. Do what God is calling you to do, be unafraid to live your life according to His will.  You may find that crossing a line isn’t as scary as you think it is.  It may just open up a whole new world of possibilities for you.

I’m More Like Peter Than I Care to Admit

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I am more like Peter than I care to admit.  Every time I hear the Gospel in which Jesus tells Peter he will deny him three times before the cock crows I usually think to myself, Peter may deny you but I wouldn’t have.  I always think that for some reason if I had been in the same shoes as Peter there is no way no how that I would have denied Jesus.

I don’t really know why I’ve thought this maybe it’s because I’ve always been really good at following directions.  When I was a young lad I used to love to fish.  I mean I was obsessed with the sport.  I had tackle boxes filled with lures and I’d read just about any book I could get my hand on regarding the topic.

Every year the local mall would have a boat/fishing show.  For me this was my young selfs definition of heaven. Aisles upon aisles of the latest and greatest fishing boats, lures, guides and even a few free samples.  I used to get all excited when the ads would come on the radio announcing the boat show.

One particular year my family went to the boat show and on the way there I was envisioning all the sights and smells that was my favorite sport.  I remember when we arrived at the show, my Mom and Dad had to make a return at a store and I was asked if I wanted to go with or stay out in the mall and look at boats.  I chose the boats, but before my parents left I was given what I thought were specific instruction not to leave the wing of the mall I was in and that my parents would come back and get me.

I was thrilled to be able to look at boats and not have to go return whatever it was my Mom needed to return.  It didn’t even matter to me that the section of the mall I was in was filled with pontoons and not fishing boats. It was still better than waiting in line for a return.

I strolled around each pontoon looking at the different features each pontoon making more excited to go and see the real boats, the fishing boats.  I could see a couple of fishing boast over in the distance, but there weren’t in the wing I was in and therefore off limits.  Besides my parents would be back soon enough to get me.

The time passed slowly, ten minutes began twenty and twenty began thirty and still no sign of my parents.  Maybe they had forgotten about me, but no matter how much I wanted to go out and look at the other boats I stayed put.  I was told to stay by the pontoons and that’s what I did.  After about an hour and a half my family finally came back to get me.  Turns out my Mom had assumed I’d be out wandering the show and that she would eventually run into me.  I wasn’t I stayed put, like I was told to.  That year the only boats I saw at the show were the pontoons, we left shortly after I was reunited with my parents.  My desire to follow directions caused me to miss out on the highlight of my year.  Ya see I’m really good at following directions.

For some reason, whether it is my ability to follow directions or my own arrogance, I’ve often thought that I wouldn’t have followed in the footsteps of Peter.  I’ve recently come to the conclusion, like the first line of this post states, I’m a lot more like Peter than I care to admit.

St. Peter Denying Christ, by Gustave Doré

For you see just like Peter, when I am surrounded by fellow believers and in the presence of Christ I truly do believe that there is no way I’d ever deny Christ in my life.  There is no way I’d deny Him once let alone three times.  But then, when I head out into the world and go about my daily life it is so easy to deny Christ and not even realize that I’m doing it.

I deny Him when I fail to see Christ in my fellow man and turn my back on someone in need.  I deny Him when I fail to pray aloud before a meal in public out of fear of ridicule for my beliefs.  I deny Him when I fail to defend my beliefs when people challenge them.

I have realized that I deny Christ more in my life than I care to admit.  Too many times in my life I have become just like Peter standing around a fire warming myself and when questioned if I am affiliated with Jesus I deny it out of fear for my own well being.

It doesn’t matter that I’m really good at following directions because just like when I was at the boat show I often times misinterpret the directions and while I think I am doing well it turns out I’m failing.

Yes, I’m more like Peter than I care to admit and just like Peter I weep bitterly for my denials of Christ.  I need stop denying Christ in my life and instead life my life for Him.  It’s what Peter did and you see I’m more like Peter than I care to admit.

Mission Impossible

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Like the majority of adult males I have two eyes in the front of my head.  They function much the same as everyone else’s eyes do, although mine need a little help from the eye doctor to make sure my vision is up to snuff.  I can see only the direction that my face is pointing, so in essence I retain the standard 100 degree field of vision common in most adult Homo-sapiens.  I do not, although I wish I did at time especially with a dog and a child running around my house, have the 360 degree vision field some birds possess.

Reading glasses

So why is that I am spending an inordinate amount of time describing my eyesight to you?  The better question you should be asking yourselves right now is why are you still reading about it.  I could understand if my audience was composed solely of optometrists, then the whole eye study makes perfect sense.  Anyway I digress, the reason I am describing my eye sight and for that matter the number of eyes in my head it to prove to you that I am normal, well as normal as one can be I guess.

For you see the other day I awoke from my late winter slumber, not with such a clatter as one finds present in mid-winter, but more with a sudden shake one finds present in late winter.  I rubbed the sleep from my normal eyes and a thought popped into my head.  What follows is a transcript of the conversation I had with the voice in your head. Sometimes I like to think that voice is God speaking to me in the predawn hours so for sake of my narrative I’m going to call the voice God.

“I want to you think of something impossible,” God said.

“Why, it’s early and I just want 10 more minutes of sleep before I have to get up for work,” I said still wiping the sleep from my eyes.

“Go ahead fall back asleep, you know I’ll just talk to you there as well.” God said, his voice gentle and soothing.

I stared in to predawn darkness. “Fine, I’ll tell you something impossible.  It’s impossible to look behind you without turning your head.”

“I knew you where going to say that.” God said.

“Of course you did, you’re God you know everything.  But seriously, how you make me see what’s behind me.  Last time I checked I didn’t have eyes in the back my head.  Check and mate,” I said. “Now can I go back to sleep?”

“Not so fast,” God replied. “You haven’t allowed me to answer.”

“Hit me with your best shot,” I said.

“A mirror” God said.

“Wait a minute, you can’t use a mirror,” I said.

“Why not?  You just said that it was impossible for you to look behind you and if you are looking into a mirror is it not possible.”

“Yeah but you can’t use objects.” I said.

“I can use whatever there is at my disposal to accomplish My will and to make the impossible possible.”

English: Vintage clock radio

The sound of my snoozed alarm clock filled the room and I fell out of bed and headed toward the shower.  I paused by the bathroom mirror and glanced at the wall behind me. Impossible made possible.

I’ve spent too much of my life thinking God works in a vacuum that His will works independently of the people and places in my life.  Reality is that God works through the objects and the people placed in my life.  It is through this slight shift in my own perspective that I have begun to God at work in my life more clearly each day, well as clearly as I can with my imperfect vision.

Now if you’ll excuse me I need to have my eyes examined.

Woody attempts to read the eye chart in The Re...

Under the Couch

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I don’t know exactly why I did it, I just did.  I was laying on the floor listeningzto my daughter read me a story about a pig that talked and had magical farm land adventures.  The talking pigs adventures helped me to conjure up images found lost long ago in my youth.

 

The page turned and I was shown a picture of a pink pig wearing a straw hat. “See Daddy isn’t that funny?” my daughter said.

 

“Yes dear,” I said. “That is a very funny looking pig.”

 

I laid my head flat on the carpet and peered under the couch.  It was dark black and part of me still believed that monsters lived under there.  “Hey Dan,” a voice from my childhood echoed in my head. “I dare you to put your arm under the couch.”

 

Under the Couch“No way,” I said to myself “There are monsters under the couch and even if there aren’t any monster it is full of snakes and rats the size of bread boxes.”

 

“You live in Minnesota.” the voice shot back. “There are no snakes under the couch that’s the one and only benefit of living in a region that gets as cold as Minnesota.”

 

“Yeah but, I know there are snakes, rats and monsters under the couch. NO WAY I’m sticking my arm under there.”

 

“Trust me it’ll be okay,” the voice said.

 

“I can’t right now, I’m listening to a story.”

 

My daughter’s voice becoming louder in my ears, drowning out the sound of the voice in my head.  “The end.” She said. “Wasn’t that a great story?  Can I have a popsicle?”

 

I nodded my head yes and returned my attention to the dark scary space under the couch.  A space so filled with snakes and monster that only a person lacking sense and sensibilities would dare to stick their hand under there, let alone their entire arm.

 

“Trust me, stick your arm under the couch,” the voice said. “You have nothing to fear.”

 

“Will it make you shut up?” I asked.

 

“Yep.”

 

I slowly moved my arm towards the vast darkness that lay before me.  My finger tips soon disappeared into the inky blackness.  I paused as I was convinced I felt the scales of a snake brush up against my finger tips.  Turns out it was only a misplaced hair brush.  I pushed my hand further into the vast darkness. Each inch that was swallowed up caused me to shiver and pause.  “I just know I’m going to lose my arm to a monster and get rabies from the rats and when I pull my rabies infested half arm out it’ll be full of snakes.” I thought to myself.

 

Inch my breathtaking inch my arm moved towards the back of the couch.  Soon my entire arm was under the couch.

 

Turns out there were no snakes, no monsters, no rats.  My arm, it turned out was okay and the voice in my head was right, I should have trusted.

 

As Pope Benedict XVI enters retirement I think there are many Catholics out there who are afraid of what is to come. Is this the end of the world as we know it?  Is this the start of the end times?  Has God abandoned His church?

 

I’ve heard or read many of these things over the past few weeks and at the end of the day they are nothing more than the snakes, rats, and monsters under my couch.  Barriers we place between ourselves and what God has intended His church.

 

English: VATICAN. With Pope Benedict XVI. Русс...

As we watch Benedict XVI enter into retirement we need to focus not on the snakes, rats and monster telling us to be afraid, but we need to listen to the Voice in our heads that says “Trust me, It’ll all be okay.”  We need to remember that God is in control and it will all be okay.  We needn’t fear what lies ahead because what lies ahead is God’s plan and that after all is what we need to trust in.

 

 

 

 

 

Call Me…..Maybe?

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I’ve been doing some math recently, which makes me realize two things.  First, I’m glad I majored in English while in college and second I’ve become so dependent upon calculators that even simple addition now require me to use a calculator.  Ahh the wonders of technology.

The reason I’ve donned a mathematicians hat is simple. I was trying to figure out all the ways people can get ahold of me.  I was driving home from work the other day and started to count up all the different ways someone could reach me.  The list started small, but soon grew exponentially.

Image representing Facebook as depicted in Cru...

Image via CrunchBase

Here is a breakdown of all the different ways people can get ahold of me.

Email Addresses:  7 (I’m sure there are more, I just can’t remember them all.)

Breakdown: Too many

Phone Numbers: 5

Breakdown: Two work numbers, cell phone, home phone, a google phone number that I set up but forgot how the thing works.

Online Accounts (Facebook and the like): 9 (I created the breakdown list on a napkin and then had to blow my nose so the writing is covered in boogers.  Alls I remember is Facebook and Twitter sorry.)

Post Office addresses: 2

Breakdown: Work and home.  I had an offshore Cayman mailing address set up for you know “business reasons” but had to shut it down when the IRS came a calling. (Totally kidding on the Cayman Island account thing, I’m not a multinational corporation…..yet.)

So by my calculator assisted calculations that gives me a grand total of 23 ways for people to get in contact with me.  I left out carrier pigeons and smoke signals since nobody really uses those anymore, but if I counted them it brings the total to 25, (didn’t need the calculator for that one.  Take that Texas Instruments)

English: Texas Instruments, TI-30 electronic c...

When I finished up my list I was rather impressed at the number of contact opportunities have with me.  Suffice it to say that if I ever win the Publishers Clearinghouse, I won’t miss the call.

Then I really started to think about it.  Here I am an average American male, more average than I actually like to admit, and I have all of these ways for people to get ahold of me.

As I’ve mulled this list over my head started to swell a bit. Maybe I’m more important than I thought, I mean do unimportant people have 25+ way to communicate.  I think not.  Then, as it always happens in my life, I was given a large piece of humble pie.

I was sitting in Mass the other weekend when it struck me.  God, arguably the most important person in the entire universe has one only one way to contact him….Prayer. Only one way and despite that one method there are never any busy signals and He always listens to those who call upon him.

Suddenly my 25 communication options didn’t seem all too important as I folded my hands and allowed God to put me back into my place.  In the end sometimes one is all you need.