About Me

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I’m from New York but my driver’s license lists that my address is Ohio. My passport has a number of stamps in it. I’m the youngest of six, yet oldest son. I have a number after my initials, but not my name. I like music. I drink coffee at all times of the day. I am a follower of Jesus. I own my own business. I watch bonus features on DVD’s. For four months each year my wife and I are the same age. “I pledge allegiance to a country without borders, without politicians.” I am an ordained pastor. I’ve eaten raw horse meat. I’m fifteen inches taller than my wife, but I look up to her. I still prefer buying CDs to downloading music. I’m a night owl, who doesn’t mind getting up early. I like to shop, and my wife doesn’t. I like to play games. I moved to another country nine days after my wedding. I sometimes quote random lyrics. I believe in miracles. I prefer desktops to laptops. I like listening to audio books. I listen to hockey games on the internet. I have five sons. I'm living life mid sentence.

Saturday, December 18, 2004

Starbucks Vs. The Church

For the last nine months I have been attending a church on a fairly regular basis and while my work schedule tends to keep me from attending every service the church holds, I have been able to make it to at least one if not two services every other week. After attending the church for this amount of time, I still feel as if I am a stranger in a crowd. Week after (every other) week I arrive with plenty of time before the service begins and I usually take my time leaving after its conclusion but so far no one has taken time to talk to me. Now, to be fair, I have had two people come up to me and say hello but both of those individuals were professors of mine from college. Before I get feedback from those who say “You shouldn’t be looking for your church to meet your interpersonal needs” I will say that my goal in going to church is not for have “my friendship needs” fulfilled but I will admit that recently I have asked myself why is it that I feel more welcomed at Starbucks than in a place where a thousand people profess God. Apart from leaving Starbucks with my beloved Soy Carmel Macchiato in hand, I normally am warmly greeted upon my visit and on several recent occasions, the employees have even had my special drink awaiting me by the time I made it through the line. I can honestly say that my spirits have been lifted more times within the last nine months by being treated like a real person at Starbucks, than by how my “body of believers” has treated me. While I don’t plan on changing the scriptures to read “Forsake not the assembling of yourselves at the pusher of America’s last legal drug” I wonder if those at the house of God could learn something from the pride of Seattle, the purveyor’s of the almighty bean.

Saturday, December 04, 2004

Selfish Gentleman Seeks Imperfect Lady

I want to be in a relationship, but I think it is because I am selfishly full of wants. I want to have someone to lavish gifts upon. I want someone that I can surprise by having a single flower awaiting her on her desk when she arrived to work. I want someone that I can make feel special not for how she looks or what she does, but just because she IS special. I want to take her a bowl of chicken noodle soup when she isn‘t feeling well. I want to be the one to help her pick out the pair of shoes that will match the dress she bought for the special night. And I also want to be the one who returns the three additional pairs that she didn’t like once she tried the dress on. I want to spend hours on the phone without saying a word , but know that I did the right thing because all she needed someone who would listen. I want to give her a hug when no words can fix the situation. I want to spend all day working on her favorite dinner because I know she had a stressful day. I want to encourage her to go shopping with her friends even though I had planned a quiet evening for just the two of us. I want to miss the big game on TV because it is opening night at the theater and her favorite play is in town. I want to see the surprise on her face when I finally ask the question. I want to be the one that arrives at the church hours early to make sure that our day is perfect in every way. I want to spend three hours waiting for her at her car to surprise her when she leaves work on our anniversary. I want to be the one to tell her she is beautiful when she asks for the third time if the outfit makes her look fat. I want to be the one that encourages her to spend more on herself and enjoy every moment of it. I want to encourage her to get some sleep while I pace the floors trying to hush the newborn’s cry. I want to tell her that one mother’s day a year isn’t enough to show my appreciation for her. I want to give her the afternoon alone by taking the children to story hour at the library. I want to tell her that I don’t mind that she doesn’t look like she did on our wedding day, because I feel that she is even more breathtaking. I want to be with her when the doctor breaks the news that we had been fearing. I want to spend restless nights sitting in her hospital room instead of comfortable nights away from her side. I want to ease her concerns that we will not be able to make it without her. I want to give her permission to let go, while inwardly I am pleading for her to stay. I want to be the one to say the last prayer for a miracle and yet not lose faith when the prayers don’t seem to be answered. I want to be there to say the final goodbye. I want to be the one to experience the loss instead of having her mourn my passing. I want to be the first one at the church and last one to leave the graveside. I want to look back and not feel remorse for years missed but rather joy for the years we had. And I want to breathe my last breath knowing that her love was the closest thing that I ever experience to the love of God.