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· Cleveland pitcher, Kerry Wood, just went onto the disabled list...for a blister on his finger. Can you imagine calling in sick to your office with that?? "Yea, hey boss, I'm not gonna make into the office this week. No, not a kidney transplant; I've got a blister on my left index finger. Yes, the one that has to press the “t,” “y” and “g” on the keyboard.”
· Trevor is 16 today. He just asked me what time he was born. I said, "I don't know, I'll ask the adoption agency."
· Ad in today’s newspaper: Memorial Day Sale. All Our Pants Are Half Off! (I’m not going near that with a comment.)
· Ever look closely at the Jolly Green Giant on the package of your frozen green beans? Notice the REALLY short sun dress made of leaves. It's practically a strapless green mini-skirt. Looks remarkably similar to Tinkerbell’s outfit. I’m just saying…
· A high school amateur can shoot a basketball from long range at a target smaller than a bathroom sink and if he misses by inches he will hear shouts of AIR BAAAALLLL !!!! But a World Cup professional soccer player can kick a ball and miss a target the size of a double garage door by 30 feet and everyone just goes, "Oh, coulda had that”.
· Ad in Nashville Scene magazine: "RUSSIAN MASSAGE by Moscow Female Therapist. Try the Difference!" (It’s cheaper if I just ask the butcher at Kroger to give me a back rub.)
· Try this with a straight face.... Waiter: "Mr. Presson, we have a bottle of Bosquet des Papes Chante Le Merle, 1999." Ramon: "My gosh, that's over 10 years old. Do you have anything fresher? Cameron don't drink the milk, son."
· Did you know that WD-40 stands for "Water Displacement 40th Attempt"? True. It's a testimony to the perseverance of chemist Norm Larsen who hit the jackpot in 1953 after 39 unsuccessful tries. (Dear Lindsay Lohan, this should not be taken as inspiring analogy for an acting career.)
· I just read the 400-word 6-season summary of LOST in Time magazine. I've never seen a complete episode but from the summary it sounds like Gilligan's Island on LSD.
· New product: Dove Hair Care Conditioner with Fiber Actives. Fiber Actives? "Sweetie, do you want me to save you one of these bran muffins?" "No thanks, babe, I drank some shampoo in the shower."
· (Yes, John Eldredge's life is more than interesting than yours) Second line of the book’s Intro: “On an early summer day in Alaska my family and I were sea kayaking with humpback whales in the Icy Strait, and we stopped on the shore of the Chichagof Island for lunch.” How does a guy write that with a straight face?
· * Why do women wear perfume that smells like flowers? Do they think men are bees? Ladies, if you really want to attract men get a fragrance that smells like barbecue ribs or the interior of a new car.
· Note to self: Cats do NOT like to have their tummies rubbed.
-- rLp --
Posted at 12:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
This is the Introduction to When Will My Life Not Suck? : Authentic Hope for the Disillusioned (to be released January 2011)
I remember when my father asked me what the title of my new book was. After I told him, I checked my cell phone to see if I’d lost the signal; there was a prolonged silence on the other end. “Dad, are you there?” Dad finally responded, “Is that really the title?”
The title of this book raised a few eyebrows and even scared off a few publishers who were big fans of the manuscript. Several wanted to tame it to When Will My Life Not Stink? So why didn’t I change the title? I certainly don’t want to shock or offend anyone, but I just couldn’t change it after hearing people’s reactions: “When’s it coming out? I need that book now!” and “Put me down for two copies.” And that was before I even told them what the book was about! The title clearly resonated with the many people who have silently or not so silently uttered this phrase in exasperation.
As you’ll see in chapter 1, the title originates from the actual cry of a sophisticated lady in a conservative women’s Bible study. Without realizing it, this honest woman expressed the question and sentiment of a multitude. Not only a multitude of women just like her, but people different from her in every way. In contemporary slang, she was declaring the universal and timeless question about the human condition. Will my life ever be better than this? Is this as good as it gets? When will my life not suck?
People who know I like race cars are often surprised to learn that I hate roller coasters and would rather have my teeth pulled without novocaine than ride Space Mountain. I like speed, but I like it in long, looping, flat circles, and I like to be in control. I want to drive. If I had lots of money, corporate sponsorships, good life and health insurance, and lame competition, I’d be a race-car driver.
I wish my life was more like auto racing. I wish yours was more like that too—adventurous but level, consistent, and with lots of control. But life often feels more like a roller-coaster ride—slow climbs, sudden falls, jerky turns, and someone else in control of the whole brain-jarring romp. When my life feels like a roller-coaster ride, I want to get off. I want to know, along with countless others, when is this going to be over? When will my life not suck?
But it is into the very middle of our twisting, turning, roller-coaster lives that God comes. It is into the ecstasies and agonies of our story that the Bible speaks. The apostle Paul said that if we only have hope for this life, with no legitimate hope of heaven, we are to be exceedingly pitied. But I believe that the converse is also true—if the only hope we have is the afterlife, then we get close to Camus’s assertion that the only question man must concern himself with is whether or not to commit suicide. If the only meaning and purpose is to be found through the portal of death, then why even bother with life?
Jesus said that he came that we might have “abundant life” (John 10:10). This statement is not speaking of eternal life in heaven, but pledging a quality of life here on earth. But don’t confuse this with something like the quality-of-life index that is measured statistically by the nation’s Economic Intelligence Unit. Most of Christ’s teachings were aimed at transforming the human heart and, subsequently, lives, relationships, families, communities, and generations.
Likewise, the apostle Paul was not only an evangelist and theologian, but a life coach of sorts. And it is Paul’s letter to the Philippian church that has most captured my attention and imagination over the years. Paul’s attitude and outlook in this letter are all the more remarkable given the conditions he was experiencing and the gloomy prospects he faced. If anyone was living a roller-coaster life, it was Paul. If anyone deserved to ask and get answers to the question, when will my life not suck? it was Paul. Yet Paul had a different perspective. He didn’t seek to escape the roller coaster, but instead found meaning, purpose, and even joy in the ride.
Human life can be so hard that the joy-filled life demands an explanation. Perhaps the joyous man has an easy life or the glad-hearted woman is in denial of her reality. If neither one of those explanations fits the case, then we are left to ask how the subject navigates a potentially harsh and demanding terrain with their joy still intact. That is what I hope to do in this book—offer a reasonable explanation of the joy-filled life. One of my therapy clients once called me a hope dispenser. I’m hard-pressed to think of a higher calling for a writer.
-- rLp --
Posted at 05:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
I’m looking at this cover of The New Yorker,
an artist’s rendering of a pigtailed youngster
gazing out the back window of a pale sedan
laden with vacation gear on the roof rack.
In the upper right hand corner
in Sylfaen font is
July 26, 2010
and it strikes me that the year itself
looks like a futuristic, space-age number
quoted in a black & white sci-fi flick or
a Saturday morning cartoon when
I sat alone in the floor of our
brick rancher on Rushland Drive
with a bowl of Cocoa Krispies
just a few feet away from the Magnavox
which stood completely still
for most of my childhood on
four spindly legs.
It never moved
from its centered spot on the paneled
west wall of our living room, under the clock
that has never been replaced, as if the hands
of an old time piece can hold everything else
still around it, or at least slow down and
direct the traffic around it.
But it can’t.
The wild frontier date in the upper right hand corner
tells me I’m fifty years old, and that seems impossible.
I’m still being formed, still taking shape, with
too many unfinished parts
to be born prematurely into midlife.
But maybe it takes becoming a half century
to realize you are becoming a whole person,
that no thing, no person,
no place or experience,
no achievement
need be added to make you complete,
and while you continue to grow,
you discover that everything you need to flower
is already present in your stems.
Posted at 07:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
the 840 turn, young adults
not standing, not grazing,
not alert and suspicious,
not bloodied or twisted
into fitful postures, but
relaxed as if they were asleep together,
the head of one nearly resting
on the chest of the other.
just yesterday.
Now they are fallen
as though Romeo
drank the poison and
Juilet took the knife.
--- rLp ---
Posted at 05:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
"You are looking around, and above all that you should not do now. Nobody can counsel and help you, nobody. There is only one single way. Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you to write; find out whether it is spreading out its roots in the deeper places of your heart, and acknowledge to yourself whether you would have to die if it were denied you to write. This above all—ask yourself in the stillest hour of the night: Must I write? Delve into yourself for a deep answer. And if this should be affirmative, if you may meet this earnest question with a strong and simple, “I must” then build your life according to this necessity; your life even into its most indifferent and slightest hour must be a sign of this urge and testimony to it."
--- Rainer Maria Rilke from Letters to a Young Poet
Posted at 10:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I want to answer the question posed in the June 28 entry, “How do you nurture your own spirit?” Beyond the standard and classic spiritual disciplines like Scripture reading and prayer, there are a number of things that poke air holes in my box. And let me say that increasingly over the years I make less of a distinction between what makes me feel spiritual and what makes me come alive and feel fully human. I realize that for some people (religious or non-religious) they might say something similar and take the applications of that into some strange, perhaps even immoral places. Well, I’m not responsible for them, and I stand by my experience and my conviction that Ken Gire, Calvin Miller, and Frederick Buechner have helped shape-- that the sacred and the secular are not so simply and conveniently compartmentalized.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 states that “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.” The chapter goes on to list contrasts like “a time to be silent and a time to speak”. Likewise for me, there are contrasts in what refreshes or energizes me and when. Sometimes it is solitude on a walk in the park or a hike in the woods. Sometimes it is sweating profusely in the July heat cutting dead branches out of cypress trees. Or it may be the adrenaline rush of keeping a mountain bike just slightly under control downhill on a rock strewn trail. It may be a stand-up comic that makes me laugh or a film that brings me to tears. Sometimes it is presence and care offered to a client or encouragement offered to a friend. In any case, refreshing the spirit is not always the act of taking in. It is often the result of giving one’s self away.
It might be coffee with a good friend, or a book that is reading me as much as I’m reading it. Even more than reading poetry, it is the writing of poetry which is the exploration, discovery, and expression of what’s inside me. There are multiple ways that creativity awakens me. Part of what I think it means to be created in the image of God (the Creator) is being creative. If we acknowledge that our creative bent and our creative gifts come from God then is the engagement of our creativity not a gift back to God? Is not the expression of our creative gift not in some way an act of worship? I’m mindful of Eric Liddell saying to his sister, “God made me fast and when I run I feel His pleasure.”
I wonder sometimes if life in suburbia dulls our grasp of the wildness of God as though we had tamed God and domesticated the spiritual life. It strikes me that David was not writing his psalms about the fierceness and majesty of God from an office with controlled temperature and artificial lights. Maybe that is why something in me has always been drawn me to walks in the outdoors.
I remember visiting my grandmother’s Lewisville farm as a child, and taking long walks alone by the river. I continued doing that well into my teens and young adult years. When I moved away and wherever I have lived I have sought places of refuge not just to sit but to walk. Perhaps the walking or hiking symbolizes Journey for me, a labyrinth of sorts through the woods, up a mountain, around a lake, along a seashore. I often walk and talk to God. I don’t sit and pray well. When my body is still my mind wanders; when my body is moving my mind and spirit are focused. The walking prayer is a rambling conversation with as many turns in it as the trail itself.
This talk of the outdoors reminds me of my affection for nature’s water, whether it be the ocean, a lake, a river, a stream, a waterfall. It has been too long since I have seen the ocean. I’ve never lived so far from it before. Now my waters run through rocks instead of rolling over sand, and that’s OK. Yet I still miss the power and rhythm of the surf, the sight of something so ancient and unchanging. As a child I took walks alone along the beach in Edisto Island. Partially to look for shark’s teeth (and I found them) but in looking back also because there was a spiritual realm inside me that I had yet to identify and name. I knew that walking along the beach in the early morning made me feel peaceful, that walking along the beach at dusk produced a loneliness I did not mind and a longing I could not name.
Those are some of the things that make my spirit come alive. As soon as I post this I'll think of things I forgot.
What works for you? What waters your garden and refreshes your spirit?
-- rLp --
Posted at 08:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
Andrew: Before we handed out the loaves and fish we got people in small groups and did an ice breaker.
Martha: Yea, I go a little overboard sometimes. But you notice that it’s Martha Stewart who has a TV show, not Mary Stewart.
Potiphar’s wife: Joseph called me a cougar today. I think that’s a compliment but I’m not sure.
Solomon: I wonder what 200 hundred shields with 600 bekas of gold hammered into each one would go for on ebay.
Isaac: Dad and I are going on a hike up the mountain. Should be fun. Not sure why he keeps gathering wood.
David: Three of my men just risked their lives by crossing enemy lines to bring me back a cup of cool water from the well in Jerusalem. If I knew they were going to do that I would’ve asked for a slushee.
Moses: and then I said ‘But God, I’m not a good speaker,’ and He said, ‘You should try Toastmasters.’
Elisha: Some teenagers were calling me Bald Dude so I called down a bear mauling curse on them. Start the anger management classes on Tuesday.
John the Baptist: The honey is good, keeps me hyped up. Locusts are crunchy. Together it tastes a little like a Pay Day candy bar.
Elijah: and then suddenly a chariot of fire appeared and I thought…hey, that would make a good title for a film about British runners.
Mary: Count on men to bring totally impractical gifts to a baby shower.
-- rLp --
Posted at 07:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I started thinking...what if Bible characters had been able to use Twitter
Peter: Just before he ascended Jesus gave me a present to open. A battery powered rooster alarm clock. Not funny.
Job: My horoscope today says ‘Change is right around the corner.’
Jacob: I married Rachel but woke up with Cinderella’s ugly step-sister.
Jacob: So I said, ‘Yes, Leah, I think Zebulun is a great name…for a planet!!’
Sodom: I've never really liked my name. I wish I could change it to Fred.
Job: Some days it really doesn’t pay to get out of bed.
Methuselah: Got the senior discount at Hardees again.
Sarah: …and we’re doing the nursery in a camel theme.
Esau: What I wouldn’t give right now for a bowl of shrimp gumbo!
Eve: Server was down. Never got memo about a talking snake.
Daniel: I told the king not to worry, everybody has that dream of standing in front of the class in just your underwear.
Joseph: Brothers are warming up to me. We’re going on a road trip!
Posted at 09:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Do women have a power cord or rechargeable batteries?
I currently own an electric shaver that runs for almost two weeks on a single charge. When it starts humming weakly I simply give it a seat in its recharging dock that plugs into the wall. After an hour of electrical connection it’s happy for another two weeks. As a teenager my first electric razor had a 2-ft power cord. If there was a detachment in the cord to/from either the shaver or the wall there was no power, no shave.
Women are more like a corded appliance than a rechargeable one. A core need and value for a woman is CONNECTION.
In part one of this series I reported that a core issue and high value for men is COMPETENCE. Because men are doers and performers, they strongly desire to be recognized and affirmed (at least given the benefit of the doubt) for being competent in the various arenas of their lives. Dr. Emerson Eggerichs, author of Love & Respect, describes this as the core need that men have for Respect.
While men are performers who pursue respect and desire their competence to recognized, women are more relational and place a premium on feeling loved and feeling connected. This does not mean that men aren’t relational and don’t value being loved any more than it means that women seldom need respect and don’t care about their own competence and success. It’s how the needs and values tilt on the scales for the different genders.
Connection is how a woman feels satisfied and secure in the relationship. And the primary vehicle for a woman, the power cord if you will, is Conversation. Women communicate to connect, and conversation is the bridge to intimacy. Men, when you are distant, aloof, preoccupied, and silent your wife is without a power cord. If in your communication you are short with her, sarcastic, and harsh you are actually slicing the cord (which is actually a good way to electrocute yourself when you think about it). Giving a woman positive attention in communication and conversation helps her feel satisfied and secure, connected. It is the reassurance to a woman that you still want to be in relationship with her. Connection says that she matters.
Guys, when you get home does your wife ask you lots of questions about your day? Many of you would say, “Yes, and it drives me crazy. Sometimes I want to say, ‘What’s with the 20 questions?’” Gentlemen, she’s not quizzing you, interrogating, or checking up on you. Believe it or not, you are one of her favorite subjects, and she’s genuinely interested in your day because it was YOUR day. She’s been apart from you for the past eight hours and has been looking forward to reconnecting. When she stops asking about you and your day is when you need to worry.
The other means of connection really following nicely along the lines of Dr. Gary Chapman’s The Five Love Languages: Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Physical Affection, Quality Time, and Gifts. Now don’t look at me and say, “My gosh, I’ve got to do all of those just to make her feel connected?” Not all at the same time, Einstein. And women, just as men, have preferences in those five languages of love. They are not of equal weight to your wife. Find out what her love dialect is and speak it. “But I work hard and provide for my family; that ought to be enough!” you say. And my response to that is similar to what the dentist tells you: “You only have to floss the teeth you want to keep.” And keep in mind you are always the first and foremost beneficiary of a woman who feels Connected.
Posted at 06:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)
Today's column sent to the Williamson Herald.
I am NOT a spoiled only child. But I am an independent only child. No, I’m not a loner. On the contrary I am very social, am energized by people, and enjoy both casual and close relationships. I’m also very expressive in my affirmation, appreciation, and affection for people. I was raised by a single mother who daily told me I was loved. Though not present in the home, my father did not hesitate to tell me he loved at me at the close of any encounter or conversation. That was easily and genuinely expressed between us right up until the moment he died in January. Any current conversation with my mother who lives in NC without us both exchanging a declaration of love is unthinkable. I am comfortable telling my wife, children, extended family, and friends that I love them.
However, the words (explicit or implied) I choke on are “I need you”. While I probably congratulate myself for being secure enough in my masculinity to tell a friend I love him and value his friendship, I’d rather put on a Richard Simmons outfit than tell him I need him or his friendship. I probably associate need with weakness.
The irony is that I don’t consider others needing me a weakness on their part. In fact, I rather like it. I like that family depends on me, clients need my help, and friends count on me for support. But I seem most comfortable with the need being a one-way street. I’m reluctant to ask for help. I’m much more comfortable doing a favor than asking for one. At this very moment, I’m struggling to go ask my neighbor Lance if I can borrow his truck for an hour to go into town to pick up something that won’t fit in my car. I’d rather he ask to borrow my car for the entire day than ask him for his pick-up for a quick haul.
I completely understand Peter’s resistance to having Jesus wash his feet. The roles in that moment seemed backwards to Peter. “This is all wrong; I should be washing Jesus’ feet,” he thought. At the very least Peter believed he should be washing his own feet, not having someone of Jesus’ stature doing it. Jesus’ response was something along the lines of, “Peter, trust me; you need me to do this.” If you know anything about Peter from reading the New Testament, you know he is an outspoken and action-oriented leader. Leaders typically have a difficult time acknowledging their own needs.
The young America’s declaration of independence was not a forceful announcement that we did not need anything from England. It was a proclamation that we would not submit to control and oppression. Our nation presently wishes it could be a self-sufficient supplier of its own energy resources so it is not dependent upon foreign oil and thus susceptible to price and political control and manipulation. Independence certainly has it place and value.
However, if we’re not careful we’ll make “need” a dirty word. Yes, unhealthy co-dependency lurks as a danger, with the joining of two overly needy adults being akin to the union of two ticks with no dog. But healthy people in a relationship have needs and to a degree are needy. In fact, the healthiest relationships (marriage, family, close friendships) are interdependent. They thrive as a two-way street of legitimate needs being acknowledged and met, transporting mutual care across a bridge that spans any chasm of prideful or naïve self-sufficiency.
Yes, I know; I’m going. I’m just rehearsing. “Hi Lance, this is Ramon. I was wondering…”
Posted at 06:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
I started thinking...what if Bible characters had been able to use Twitter
Adam: And then I told Him if he wanted all the animals identified and named, he should Google them.
Moses: Just took out an Egyptian dude. Packing light. Might not be tweeting for a while.
Moses: Got the 10 commandments. Dropped tablet #3 with 11-15 on it.
Noah: This reminds me too much of Seattle.
Samson: Just met a nice Philistine girl. Good dancer and she loves my hair.
Lot: Hold on, there’s someone at the door.
Pharaoh: Do I like frogs? What kind of idiotic question is that!?
Pharaoh: Of course, we’re going to chase them. If we let them get away they’ll just take over New York and south Florida.
Jonah: Nice day out on the lake with the guys. After lunch, may do some fishing.
Peter: The wind and the waves and all that…well, I think my ADHD kicked in and…
Philip: Fish and chips lunch on the hill. Great crowd. Not sure how to store all these leftovers.
Lazarus: One minute I’m walking with angels through the gates of splendor and the next minute I hear someone say, ‘He smells like a pile of dead fish.’
Eve: Well, so I was gonna surprise Adam when he got home with this great fruit salad…
Abel: Me and Cain are talking about going into business together. Maybe opening a Meat & Three.
Eve: All men are just alike.
David: giant, schmiant, how big can he be? OH SH...
-- rLp --
Posted at 06:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
Gary Chapman: Love Talks for Families (Lovetalks Flip Books)
Ramon Presson, John Underwood & James Harnish: 365 Meditations For Men By Men (365 Meditations)
Ramon Presson: When Will My Life Not Suck? Authentic Hope for the Disillusioned