- 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
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
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.
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