Monthly Archives: January 2007

Sleeping the Day Away

SteveConnorSleeping_550.jpg

Connor and I watched an entire football game this afternoon–the (hated) New England Patriots beating the NY Jets. Mostly, he slept, occasionally waking or flailing his arms at some dreamed-up rabbit or whatever he envisions while he sleeps. But he’d always go right back to sleep. And, considering this photo that Pam snapped without my knowledge, I guess I didn’t exactly see the entire game, either.

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Gun Paradise

This morning I went to the Fort Wayne Gun & Knife show at the coliseum. I collect knives and bayonets. The G&K show comes around every three months, but I’ve only gone twice–once in January 2005, and now today. My nephew, Benjamin, was going to come with me (he also collects knives), but ended up having to work. So I went alone.

I parked my truck amidst a forest of macho pickups and SUVs and headed toward the entrance behind a fellow wearing a camoflauge jacket and carrying a big rifle on a strap over his shoulder. Context is everything. I imagined if we were headed toward the entrance of a school. Or an airport.

I looked at a lot of the guns and thought, “It’s legal to buy that?” Perhaps some full-auto features are disabled, I don’t know. The place was a Jack Bauer paradise. It gave me some comfort knowing that if the US were invaded, lots of my neighbors are very heavily armed. Maybe I could borrow somebody’s AK-47 or set-up their 30-calibre machine gun on my rooftop amidst sandbags.

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Movies We’ve Seen Lately

Pam and I saw two movies over the holidays at the theater, and rented two more.

  • Casino Royale. Most people I talk to liked the new James Bond movie. So did we. It was definitely a different Bond, and a much more ruthless one (where Roger Moore would have snuck up on a guy and given him a karate chop to knock him out, Daniel Craig just shoots him in the neck). This movie had no great, dasturdly, world-threatening plot (and those do get kind of silly sometimes), just a suspenseful action movie. I look forward to seeing the next Bond movie with Daniel Craig.
  • Apocalypto. I really liked Mel Gibson’s latest film. The buzz said it was extremely gory. True, though perhaps not as bloody as I was expecting, considering all of the hype. Or I’m just numb to it. Anyway, it was a fun ride.
  • Talledaga Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. This Will Farrell flick about a Nascar driver was merely okay. It had its funny moments, but I wouldn’t bother seeing it again. We rented this one, of course
  • March of the Penguins. Finally found out what all the fuss was about. Rented it, learned a lot about penguins, a subject which has been on my Must Learn About list.
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Those Who Dare Greatly

Speaking in Paris in 1910, Teddy Rooselvelt said:

It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.

During my 25+ years at the denominational headquarters, I’ve seen lots of second-guessing when noble Kingdom ventures don’t work out. In particular, I’m thinking of people who leave a comfortable church to plant a new church, and the church never materializes despite their best efforts. And people who enter missionary service, perhaps relocating an entire family to a new country, but something goes awry and they have to return.

I admire risk-takers. Church planters are that way. I’ve seen many ministers leave a sure thing–a church that’s doing well, where they are liked, and where they have some visibility which provides opportunities for denominational leadership. In some cases, they might have been in line for an even more cushy, high-profile church. But instead, they venture out to start a brand new church…and for whatever reason, it never develops. I think of Dan, Bob, Brooks, Mark, Anthony, Lee, and various others. When the plug is finally pulled, there are always a variety of explanations. But you’ll usually hear in the mix, “I guess he just doesn’t have what it takes.” Maybe. But not necessarily.

Likewise with people who enter missionary service. I’ve seen people go overseas with great hope and vision, and for whatever reason, return before their hopes and visions can be realized. And, “I guess they just weren’t cut out for missionary service.” Maybe. But not necessarily.

And unfortunately, we tend not to give someone a second chance. We just conclude, “He doesn’t have it.” And sadly, too many of these people end up leaving the ministry, or at least leaving our denomination. They perhaps seek a fresh start somewhere far from the “failure” tag. If they do stay in our fellowship, we just never bring up their past failure…even though, in their eyes, it may have been their greatest-ever step of faith.

People like me–and I can’t pretend to have ever risked greatly–can too easily pass judgment from our secure positions of respect. We observe the situation and draw simplistic conclusions about why another person’s dream, that they poured prayer and sweat and endless hours into, went bust.

I believe it’s wrong, absolutely wrong, to focus on the “failure” angle. Even if the person was mismatched or unprepared for the role, I still see someone who risked. He tried something difficult and stretching and perhaps dangerous. In a society that worships comfort and convenience, I honor those people among us who, as Roosevelt said, “if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly.”

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Boise State Rocks!

Wow, am I ever glad I stayed up to see the end of the Fiesta Bowl! How could you not cheer for an underdog from Idaho of all places, unless you are from, uh, Oklahoma. I’ve always hated Oklahoma, going back to their great rivalry with Nebraska in the 1970s (Nebraska was the Good Guys, especially when they had Johnny Rogers).

You also have to like Boise State because they have a blue field. Yes, blue. They’re just downright interesting.

That Fiesta Bowl is among the best games I’ve ever seen. When Boise threw that interception with a minute left, and it was run in for a touchdown, I thought, “Well, they played their hearts out. It was a great season for them.” But with a minute left, they came back with that hook & ladder play, executed to perfection, to tie it up. And then the similarly perfect Statue of Liberty play to win the game.

And then the guy who ran it in immediately proposed to his cheerleader girlfriend. He had the ring in his room, but got caught up in the moment and proposed on the field. For the rest of his life, when he’s with friends and they’re swapping “How’d you propose?” stories, he’ll win hands-down.

Perfect in every way.

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The Magic Bottle

SteveFeedingConnor.jpgLast night, New Year’s Eve, Pam and I volunteered to watch Connor while Allen and Carolyn used movie passes to go see “Eragon” at the Rave Cinemas. They said it was very good, BTW.

Pam and I were, of course, taking a risk, at least for us. Watching a baby for several hours is not only out of our comfort zone, it’s out of our time zone. Fortunately, Connor just slept and slept for the longest time, peaceful and serene. It was easy. Molly laid down on the floor with him, next to his blanket. It was very cute.

Then he woke up. And the crying started. Crying escalated to bellowing, then nigh unto screaming. I can write books, design websites, play piano by ear. Figure out how to get a baby to stop crying? With that, I’m clueless. I walked him around, did the bob-and-weave thing, tried the rocking chair (which Carolyn expressly recommended before leaving), and talked nonsense. Nothing worked.

Perhaps his diaper needed changing? We laid him on a mat and checked, and…my goodness, that was disgusting. (Green? How’d it get green? What kind of world is this?) Pam wiped him off and attached a new diaper, and he seemed to approve.

For a few minutes. Then the crying / bellowing / screaming started again. More bob-and-weave, all in vain. The decibel level increased. And though he had been fed a bottle just two hours before, we could think of no other options. So Pam made him a bottle, with 50 seconds in the microwave.

Glory be to the Magic Bottle! It settled him right down. He approved. Hallelujah! Amazing things happened. Peace descended. The planets realigned. Lions romped with lambs. Shiites and Sunnis danced together in the streets. George Bush read a book.

And then Carolyn and Allen promptly returned, which is probably what Connor wanted all along. Not to be stuck with these two strange Not-Mommy-and-Daddy types.

Such was our little New Year’s Eve adventure. Pam and I, without actual baby-having experience, survived the evening and used our wits to prevail over the cataclysmic crises Connor was experiencing deep in his soul. We did it. Jolly good show!

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