30 Days of Thanks - Day 23 - Perry Noble

I have recently been reading and enjoying a certain blog by a writer who I am beginning to admire. Some of the leaders at church had mentioned his name a few times in conversations about leadership and who's material we like to listen to or read. I decided to check him out and came across his blog pretty quickly. I have been jumping around and reading bits of it.

He made a new post today that caught my attention and I was very thankful for the insight he provided in it. The post, titled "My Wife Had A Bad Experience At Chic-Fil-A!" makes some interesting connections between his initial reactions to the bad experience and the way many people react when the shiny-new gloss of their church wears off for whatever reason. I think he makes some good points as to why we need to stick with the Church despite bad experiences instead of trying to explain the bad experiences away.

The only thing I could add to his post is the importance of not running from or ignoring the problem (or becoming part of the problem). I believe that, when these issues creep up, our noticing the problem may be the first step toward correcting it. True, there are some problems where the correcting actually needs to happen to us and our mindset (such as his example of getting upset if someone does not call you after you have been absent for two weeks), but there are some problems where we need to step up and say, "Hey, that hurt!" Also, going with his example of not liking what the preacher said, there are times where we need to dedicate ourselves to further study to see if there was actually something wrong with what the preacher said. If there is, then we need to talk to them about that concern.

Back to School Headband/Clip Giveaway at 3 Peanuts!

So I'm posting this for another entry at the contest because my parents have a neighbor with the most adorable little girl who would look stunning with a 'Brooke' headband from the Bella Reese Boutique (who is supplying the contest prize).

3 Peanuts, a blog that I check every few days (because she updates far more than any other blog I read - true story), has a little contest/giveaway running through Sunday (that's 9/11/11 when the contest ends). Basically, if you'll leave a comment on her site at the related post with the headband/clip style you want/love, you get an entry. She'll use random.org (another lovely site) to pick a winner Sunday and I guess contact you afterward (although I'd keep an eye on her blog in case there's an issue and she can't). You can get bonus entries by posting about it on your blog (like I'm doing), liking the boutiques facebook page (I'll never live that down), and following the 3 Peanuts blog (highly recommended).

I'd wish you good luck but I want to win so . . .

For those wondering why I'm wanting to win a headband for the neighbors' kid and reading family blogs, it's because I still hold out that lovely hope of being a dad someday and if I can't be one right now, then I can at least spoil someone else's kid! It's kind of like placating (and educating) your own need to nurture others. This need tends to grow when I notice lots of friends announcing their marriages and pregnancies. Granted, I'm only 25, but so are they (or younger). I guess that makes the current checklist:

_ - Find job.

_ - Find wife.

_ - Make/Adopt children.

_ - Become a superhero.

_ - Get old.

_ - Die.

Picking Up An Old Project

So a couple of years ago I started a little creative writing project at WEbook. Well, I got busy and never wrapped it up but I also never forgot about it. Today I was killing some time between things I had to be at and picked it back up. The basic premise is that of an alternative reality set in the near future in which I do the 'Dad blog' thing like one of my favorite bloggers, Poop and Boogies. I based it on a few general characteristics from my life and used it as a way to process some information from a class I was taking. In it, I have a five-year-old son named Andrew. This is odd because a) I have never had any intention of naming my son Andrew and b) shortly after writing the original piece I met some people who had a five-year-old named Andrew who looked exactly like what I was imagining.

I've got two other posts I'm working on now. One is reflecting on a book I'm reading and a video game series I enjoy. The other is a commentary on the three levels of worship that I formulated today while at a worship/media team meeting.

These will probably both be posted within the next week, but I wanted to go ahead and share this now. Fourth post in a month, new record! Again, click the first link in this post to view the original project and meet Andrew.

"Dance! Dance! Dancing!"

My son, Andrew, has taken to convulsing in public and calling it 'dancing.' The wife claims he gets this from me, which may be true. She strictly choreographed our first (and only public) dance at our wedding reception beforehand. I was to lead in a left-right sway while slowly spinning – clockwise, it must be clockwise – as my hands rested on her hips and hers on my shoulders. After this traditionally mandated exercise, she retired to the table to gawk at those who would dare to make such fools of themselves in public – of which I was a subset.

To be fair to her, the shoes she had been talked into wearing for the ceremony were a fearsome pair of blister-inducing, shin-splinters. In addition, she did join us for group dances to the "Electric Slide" and "YMCA" – dances which are also traditionally mandated.

To be fair to me, I can at least produce the appearance of knowing what I'm doing. The secret is to force your face into its most serious expression so that everyone thinks you are concentrating on getting the moves just right, thus giving you the look of a true artist. Sadly, most of my attempts at fancy footwork quickly devolve into the 'skank' – a classic dance for ska music that involves swinging your elbows around and kicking your legs out while hopping to the beat.

Sadder still, Andrew appears to have not even progressed to the skank. He merely writhes and throws various sections of his body outward with no regard for the music. This gives the impression of either a nod to Dadaism or demonic possession. He does this while shouting various forms of the word 'dance', thus adding to his overall image of mental instability. He may be on to something, however, as he seems to have attracted more attention from his beloved teacher who exclaims, "Beautiful, Andrew! You are such an excellent dancer!" thus adding to her overall image of mental instability.

I'm trying to educate him on proper form – something The Wiggles have apparently failed to do. We've watched Breakin' (I and II), Footloose, and that one scene from Beauty and the Beast (we can't watch the entire movie as the clock man frightens him). Unfortunately, all this has served to do is inspire him to throw himself on the floor for his convulsions and call it 'break dancing.' At the store the other night a lady called for an ambulance thinking he was having a seizure.

My wife claims that it's just a phase and he will grow out of it soon, much like his crotch-punching phase. Still, I'm considering calling a special prayer session at church next Wednesday to lay hands on him. I'll wear my pea soup colored shirt just in case.

A Close Call

One of the blogs I follow (and I suggest you do too) recently made an interesting post describing what most of us would consider to be a major inconvenience to a large family. Instead of following her initial impulse to be bitter, she turned the situation on its head. Take a look:

I have been trying, every time I get stuck in traffic, or the keys get locked in the car, or we get lost on the way to our destination, to view these frustrations as ways in which God steers us away from more difficult circumstances, even danger. Maybe my plans are simply not what He had in mind. Maybe there are people whose paths we are to cross, whom we would otherwise never know, if our schedule went as we had designed. Perhaps, more seriously, we would have met our demise from a reckless driver or a downed tree or a deer in the road....we may never know this side of heaven, but it seems like a reasonable explanation to me.

About five years ago, when I was still working in a grocery store back home on breaks, I had gotten roped into working until 11:30 at night on the fourth of July. I hated to miss out on the festivities but I needed the money (the holiday pay was good). On my way home, I stopped at the traffic light in front of the shopping center. When the light turned green, I hit the gas to go and was met with a mild sputter and even the electrical system of my car failed.

Just as I was about to get mad, I saw a pickup fly through the intersection in front of me. The guy driving had plowed through a red light and would have plowed into me had my car not died. He didn't even have his lights on so I wouldn't have seen him in enough time to get out of the way.

I thanked God for the save and then felt like I should pray for that driver's safety. I then tried to start my engine again. It started perfectly and didn't give me anymore problems. As I made my way home, I passed the pickup down the road. The driver had received a blue-light special and was failing his sobriety test miserably, thus insuring a safe night in the clink (the power of prayer, I guess).

The thing is, had I not been inconvenienced, I would have been horribly maimed at the very least. My car just dying and then restarting with no previous or following problems is suspicious. I think Someone must have messed with my engine. I'm glad He did. It was all just a 'God-incidence'.