A Different Look at Church

     A friend said he was going to Chicago with his family. I jokingly said to enjoy my fourth love. God, wife, daughter, Chicago. He sent me a message that asked where the church was located in that list. I replied that the church is not a building but people, and if Chicago were made of people then the church would be fourth as well. We both laughed, but it did concern me.

There is a disconnect in our culture with the church and I wonder if it is because we have changed our definition from people to a building. In the dictionary the first two definitions are the building and the next three are the people. It should be reversed. You may congregate in a designated building, but the church is people.

When people tell me they love their church I’m curious, do they mean they love the people or the programs that have been put forth by the leadership of that people? There is nothing wrong if you love the programs of your church, but it alarms me when people say they don’t like their church because then I have the same wonder. Do they not like the people or the programs?

     I was having coffee with a Washington DC up and comer in DC and I asked the question, if the conservative party is the “Christian party” then why don’t they help the poor and needy? I find it ironic that the “Christian party” would bash the liberal party for helping those in need. Do we realize that if we did our part as the church (people) we wouldn’t need the government to do anything? I also realize that the church (building/organization) is doing a lot, but we (people) must not be doing enough if there is still the need. I wonder if as a people we are programmed to expect an organization (church, government) to solve the problem instead of ourselves. The Lord’s request of Peter was if you love me then feed my lambs. Even Jesus portrayed that it took a personal touch.

I remember visiting a church that has dozens of satellite campuses. They all took place in homes. One of the people with me said that that would never fly in my denomination because we are church building oriented group. My response was simple. Why would we not be okay with it? It is biblical?

     People can’t be discipled by a building; people must disciple them. They can’t be invited by a building; people must invite them. The church can do everything in the world possible, but it takes people to make it stick, connect, and last. An institution cannot accomplish what a personal relationship can. It’s always a personal touch that counts. The church should not be thought of as a building, but foremost as a people. We are a body, a team, and a unit of people in this journey together.

The Road Less Traveled

The Road Not Taken

By: Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could 

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair, 

And having perhaps the better claim,  

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there  

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.  

Oh, I kept the first for another day! 

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,  

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh   

Somewhere ages and ages hence:  

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—  

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

The Road Less Traveled

By: Stephen Maddox

     Live the dream is a common phrase but a road less traveled. The person that impressed it on me was Lee Burns, a staff member I met at Hillsong Church while I was in Sydney, Australia. This is not a new concept or even a foreign concept but it is a great challenge.

     Are you living the dream? If not, why? Take a minute and ask yourself. Am I living the dream? If not, why?

I can’t say it definitively, but I would guess that most of the reasons you came up with are not the real reason. Those are the reasons that help you sleep better at night. You can give me every reason, excuse, fault, situation, but you are the one that is to blame. Rise above, endure, outlast, fight on, don’t give up, don’t give in, dream on. Let the past be the past, and let the present be the present.

What is “it” you’ve always wanted to do? If you aren’t doing “it”, why? I understand being realistic and the need to sustain a living, but every day should be lived to the fullest. If you aren’t doing something each day to make your dreams a reality than you wasted a day. Waste too many and it becomes a year or a lifetime.

I have read countless biographies and autobiographies of people that sacrificed it all to make a difference and live their dream. Salinger, Hemingway, King, and countless others had multiple stories and writing pieces turned down before they came to fame. They lived on nothing, some with families, until they were able to make their dreams a reality.

I’m not saying you have to quit your job and live your life in hopeless abandonment. I’m saying fight the fear and live the adventure.

Make a list of every dream you have no matter how silly or small. It helps to visualize your dream. After you have made a dream your reality cross it off and move onto the next one.

Can you imagine if people like Edison, Newton, Gates, Jobs, Franklin, Einstein, and Tesla had not lived their lives to the fullest and dreamed big dreams. This is not a heavily traveled road, but it should be.

I have not turned every dream I have into a reality, but each day I am living my dream and each day I am doing something that continues to bring my dreams to a reality. Some are outlandish and will not be done without God’s help, but I enjoy the journey. Traveling the road less traveled isn’t lonely, just a more select group. Don’t let your life be the road not taken, but the road less traveled.

Frankie the Revolutionist (Happy 1st Birthday)

Dear Frankie,

You’ve turned one year old, and they weren’t joking that this times goes fast.

You’ve taught me so much in your first year. You are a revolutionary for the fact that you’ve revolutionized my life.

The thought of kids scared me to begin with. Growing up as the youngest I never had younger siblings. So it took awhile for the idea of kids to grow on me. But then it took three years and a miscarriage before it finally happened. I had more growing up to do and needed to make some things right before the Lord knew I would be ready. And now, thankfully, I have you. I also know that if it hadn’t taken that amount of time, we might not have had you, and that thought disturbs me.

I couldn’t have asked for a better first child, but the thought of a girl scared me. I’m a man’s man and didn’t know how the girl thing would work, but the Lord knew what he was doing, for if I had had a boy first I would have been a harder parent. I don’t lack in discipline, but I would have probably been too harsh. But since you own me around your little finger you’ve worked on me like no son could have. You see, you’ve taught me what true compassion is and how to care about others.

Having you also opened my eyes to a truer concept of God’s love. Because anyone that can send his son to bare the ultimate punishment of every person’s sin and die the cruelest death can show no greater love. I can’t even comprehend the thought of turning my back on you as you suffer someone else’s debt.

You’ve taught me there is every reason to be open minded and to be as curious as I used to be with every experience. To abandon the jadedness and cynicism for the idea of what fun life can be. This one is a work in progress, but you’ve started me down the path. And I can’t thank you enough for that.

You’ve taught me that life is not all about myself. In order to be a good parent I’ve learned that selfishness needs to cease, or at least decrease. I’m not perfect at this, but I’m working hard to make sure this is true in my life.

Frankie, I want you to always remember this. I love you and always will.

As you get older, even now at times, I am going to frustrate the snot out of you (your mom can tell you about this first hand), but I will always love you. You won’t be perfect and you will make mistakes, but I will always love you. You won’t hit the mark, and you might disappoint me at times, but I will always love you. There is never a time you can’t talk to me, there is nothing you can do that you can’t tell me. I love you and I always will.

I’ll say right now, the mistakes I make as a father, I’m sorry. I will always try my best, but I too will never be perfect.

You are the apple of my eye; you are the delight of my heart, and I can’t be thankful enough that you are in my life. To many more years, adventures, dances, naps, play times, meals, and times I can’t comprehend at this moment. I love you and I always will.

   Love,

 Your Dad

I Play Guitar for Matchbox 20

     I used to work downtown in Chicago and would take the train back and forth. If you haven’t ridden a train into the city you probably aren’t familiar with the protocol. So I will educate you.

     First, you pick an empty seat when possible. Sitting next to someone on the train, unless absolutely necessary, is just creepy and weird. Although there are more people in large cities it has the adverse effect in that most often you know less people than a small town person might know. Small town people want to know one another. City people, most of the time, do not want to know one another. There are people that will continue to walk from train car to train car just to see if there is an empty seat. It is simple train etiquette.

     Second, you don’t look at people as you walk by them on the train. It is best to think everyone is in their own world. I used to call the three-foot circle around me the danger zone. Thanks Top Gun. Again, it’s creepy to look at people. Up there with Hannibal Lector.

     Third, if you absolutely, most positively, must sit next to someone, you don’t talk. People may say hello, do a head nod, or most likely just a polite smile. Passengers tend to read on the train, whether a book, nook, kindle, iPad, newspaper, magazine, computer, cell phone, whatever. They may also just sit and listen to music on their iPod. They may sleep or rest their eyes. But conversation is just too far past the norm.

     One day on my way home a young lady sat next to me. Honestly, I don’t remember what she looks like. Couldn’t even tell you what she was wearing. Made that much of an impression. Not saying she wasn’t someone to remember, I just didn’t care enough to attempt to remember. As I was staring out the window my tactic was to leave my computer bag on the seat next to me so people would take another seat and use me as a last resort. She asked to sit there. I moved the bag while holding my gaze out the window. Then she made the fatal error. She said the doomed phrase.

“What did you do downtown today?”

I slowly moved my head and looked at her. I probably sat there silent for a few seconds, but what felt like hours, because of the pure shock that someone said something to me. I could hear whispers around me as if the girl wore the scarlet letter just for opening her mouth in front of people.

“Well, I was working,” I replied.

“What do you do for work?” she persisted.

At that point, I figured if we were going to keep this going I was going to entertain myself as much as I was going to entertain her.

I proceeded to tell her how I was the lead guitarist for Matchbox 20 and was recording our new album at a famous studio downtown. I continued on that my family lived out in the suburbs (the only truth to this story) and that I was heading out there to have dinner with them before I came back into the city to finish recording. Our new album would be out in the fall and it was going to be landmark.

As I heard the Oak Forest exit I stood up, said excuse me, and walked on towards the door. As I walked down the aisle, gullible girl said to have a great dinner. I waved and walked out the door.

I never saw this person again. The ironic thing is that Matchbox 20 was apparently working on an album at that time. And it released that fall. Some person out there was telling her friends how she met their lead guitarist, most likely bought that album (it was fine, but not their best), and has the story of a lifetime. Although when she saw the picture of the guys on the album, I would imagine she realized I wasn’t in the band.

There are some morals to the story.

First, talk to people on the train. You can’t make a mark in this life or make a difference if you don’t talk to people. You may not start with what were you doing downtown, but interacting with people shouldn’t be discouraged. There are of course times where discretion and thought should go through your mind before you start an interaction, but nonetheless, enjoy humanity. You can learn a lot from situations that weren’t anything more than sitting with someone you don’t know.

Secondly, I realized I was a born storyteller, but that can also be used for evil. Without ever telling the person it was a joke and a funny story (I have a snobby sense of humor) it was ultimately a lie. And as harmless as it may seem, everything starts small. Even sin. I have plenty of stories that I’ve told as a joke at someone else’s expense, but I haven’t done that in a long time. It’s easier to pull out a weed when it’s small than to wait until its roots are deep in the foundation.

Next stop, Tinley Park.

Off the Grid on Vacation

           We recently took vacation. It fell on our seven-year anniversary and concluded a packed six weeks of events. We started with rehearsals for Easter, Men’s Conference 2011 and its rehearsal, more Easter rehearsals, District Council, Easter Dress Rehearsal, Easter Express, Easter, Easter clean up, Women’s Rally, choir loft clean up, and graduations for CBC, EU, and Ozark High School. As well as it has been non-stop from last year’s women’s conference in October, through Christmas, up until the six weeks packed with events. I don’t complain about the work or dislike it. I’m a workaholic and am not afraid of work. This is what I signed up for and love it.

     This time I took my vacation a little differently though. I did my due diligence in making sure that everything I could thinking of, imagine, or come up with was discussed, delegated, and taken care of. I then e-mailed those that I work for and lined out what was taken care of and concluded my e-mail that I would be turning off my e-mail, ringer, and vibrate function on my phone. I also left it upside down on my nightstand so I wouldn’t see any pop-ups, even in my peripheral (thanks Brian Regan). Lastly, I explained I wouldn’t be on Twitter, Facebook, or blogging either.

     I had the best and most relaxing vacation ever. And it took completely cutting myself off from all outside interaction.

            Cell phones are an addiction. I will admit I felt in my pocket for my phone at the beginning of my vacation. It’s a fun device to mess with while bored waiting for nothing. But this allowed me to focus completely and totally on my wife and daughter. To work the hours it takes and have a good home front I felt this was necessary. I told our families the best way to contact us so we weren’t completely cut off in case of emergency.

     During the vacation I was able to watch my daughter transition from the army crawl to the full crawl. I was able to watch her learn how to pity/sympathy laugh. She now consistently can say Dad or Dada, the dog, one of the cat’s names (Hunter pronounced huntor/unter and Dexter pronounced deter) and other words. She babbles in conversation with me. She babbles in conversation with herself. We went on family walks, watched movies, went places together, and enjoyed one another's company.

     I was able to read 3.5 books as well. Finished Battlefield of the Mind by Joyce Meyer, and read BabyWise II, Have a Little Faith by Mitch Albom, and Ford County by John Grisham.

     On your next vacation I dare you to completely unplug and enjoy your family. No one will care if they miss your constant social network updates and pictures. And if you feel like it is completely necessary you can do it your first day back to the online civilization. You will have the most refreshing time away that you can’t fathom. And your family will enjoy being with you as well. You might owe it to them.

Anything Your Kid Can Do...

     …Someone else’s can do better.

     If you haven't seen the Brian Regan sketch on “Me Monster” then click the word "Me Monster" and watch it. A “Me Monster” is someone that can hear any story and one up you. For example, I might tell someone about the time I had dessert with Brian Houston at Hillsong. Then “Me Monster” would pipe up with how they didn’t just have dessert with him, but went golfing with him afterwards, carried his clubs, and hit a hole-in-one on hole nine, which was a par 5 hole. To note, I have no clue if Brian Houston even golf’s.

     When I became a dad, people would ask about what milestone Frankie was at. If she was crawling, talking, drooling, walking, had teeth, making model airplanes, solving world hunger, operating brain surgery, etc. What I didn’t know was that having a child was an unannounced competition.

One example is people would ask how much Frankie weighs to which I would reply with her current weight. But every once in a while someone would then tell me how their kid weighed that much in the first trimester, was born with three teeth, studying advanced quantum physics by three months, corrected Einstein’s theory of relativity at four months, and is fluent in English, Latin, Hebrew, and Arabic by six months.

After I was astounded with their child’s progression in life I began to wonder what was going on. Especially when I realized this was more common then I thought it should be. There can’t be that many children in this world who are walking at three weeks old and getting their doctorate in linguistic studies by nine months.

No longer was competition just at work, home, or school, but with our kids as well. I’ll be honest; I’m not a huge fan. I am not worried or concerned with how my child compares to yours. Kids are just as different from one another in a family, let alone in our whole world. If your kid picks its nose and eats the bugger before mine, then God bless you and that salty treat.

Some might say, wow, your kid must not be progressing as well as she should be. Wrong. She is doing far better then I could hope or dream; I just don’t care about competing because it’s not healthy for the kids. No matter what my child’s progress is, I think they are beautifully and wonderfully made and I won’t be dismayed, my dear friend. That last line is inspired from Pigeon John and the book of Psalms, if you wondered.

I've Lost My Cell Phone

       Cell phones can do almost anything. I am still looking for the app that washes my car, mows my lawn, or gives me the ability to hear people’s thoughts. What? You haven’t wanted the app to hear people’s thoughts? It would make my communication so much better. So many times I think I have said something and realize I only thought it and never said it out loud. Dolphins one up us in that field.

     I remember when cell phones were used only for phone calls. I bought my first cell phone during my freshman year of college. When I was in High School very few people had cell phones. Now kids in elementary school have iPhones. At our life group, a couples one and a half year old knows how to unlock her parents iPhone and scroll for apps. Amazing if you ask me.

           The problem with our cell phones being a computer in our pocket is we now use it for everything. Well, almost everything. I use it for note taking, sending e-mails, sending text messages, making phone calls, running my calendar, playing games, using the Internet, taking pictures, and a plethora of other apps that make life easier or entertaining.

     This is great until you lose your phone. Has this ever happened to you? You set your phone down to do something, move on, and forget that you set down your left side of the brain.

     One day, I am working at my desk talking with a fellow worker. While we’re talking we realize we need to plan a meeting with other people, so I look for my calendar to find a time that works. I live by the calendar on my phone. I couldn’t find my phone anywhere. Not in my pocket, not in my coat pocket, not on my desk, not on the ground. It was not in my chair, thinking it slipped out of my pocket. Walked down to my car, and it was not there either. I even checked other locations that I worked at around the building.

            Suddenly to my dismay, I feel warmth on my face; I am talking to this person on my phone. My calendar has been pressed to my ear for the last 10 minutes of my search.

     At that moment I realize my life, which I thought was simple, was far too complicated.

     I’d like to say that has been the only time I’ve done that, but it’s not.

Less Talk, More Rock

I sat in the lawn at a concert waiting for it to begin. This tour was two main headliners, an opening act that switched half way through the tour, and a last minute addition. The last minute addition (not a bad band name now that I think about it) was an up and coming band. I had heard one of their songs before.

As they played their set they found it appropriate to talk in between each song, longer than the duration of the song itself. When no one responded, cheered, or clapped they would throw out the phrase, “Are you looking forward to ‘headliner’ band!” To which people would then cheer.

In college my friend Cesar Cordero would throw out the phrase, “Less talk, more rock” to bands that had diarrhea of the mouth. Our band included. We talked way too much.

The next band played their set. The only time they said anything was in between song two and three to say their name. They had a tight sound, great stage presence, fluid transitions, and an overall good performance. Part of the reason in my mind is they didn’t annoy us with banal banter.

For me, when I go to a concert I didn’t pay to listen to a speech. I paid to listen to you play and sing. If I wanted to hear a speech I would find one that I actually felt smarter after listening to it. I feel like I should get a partial refund every time an artist speaks during their set. When I bought your record I didn’t hear you talk on it. Please don’t do it when I pay to see your music live.

     I’m not saying they don’t have a right to speak. I’m just saying that at a concert the time is limited and I want to hear the maximum amount of music as possible. If you have something to say, talk after the concert is over or write a book where an editor can help you. You can even blog if you want, but every time you stop your show to speak you kill the momentum in your concert.

Let your music speak to me, let it move me; let it speak to me far more than plan speech itself. Music and lyrics can go further than a spoken word at times. Use that to your advantage.

In life I feel it is best to decide when to speak and when to listen. People feel at times I’m too quiet, but I would rather speak when necessary. I’ve learned a lot about people and situations by listening and not speaking.

All and all, rock on.

Just Do It

     Growing up, the shoe company Nike had the promotional line, “Just Do It”. I always knew what it implied, but it wasn’t until I was older that I understood it.

I am a very independent person and seldom think about other people. This is something I continually have to work on. When Stephanie and I first got married our first few months were rough for the fact that I couldn’t figure out that two really do become one. I never realized how great our relationship could be until I learned that I should love her better than I loved myself. Even after those first few months I would go through cycles of forgetting and remembering that virtue. In those times of forgetfulness I realized that I was saying I should do that, but not doing it.

I challenge you to out love each other in your relationship. If you truly do this for no reason other than pure love, you will be happier than you could have hoped and dreamed. If you do this because you expect things in return you will be fighting a losing battle. There is no score in love; there is no end goal, except to love your neighbor as yourself.

In life it is very easy to complain about something when we aren’t involved.

It’s much easier to sit on the sidelines and in the bleachers of life, telling someone how that play should have been made. Far easier than it is to strap on the pads and slug it out on the field of life. I believe you will find life more fulfilling if you get involved.

Get involved in your local church and in your local community.

       A group to get involved in is the One Campaign (one.org). They are out there to fight extreme poverty and preventable disease in the world. Life isn’t a privilege and neither is health. It is a right and we must do whatever we can to help those in need.

     Another group I think of would be Convoy of Hope (convoyofhope.com). They are feeding thousands of children and people a day. They are helping in disasters and they partner with the local church across the country in outreaches for those in need.

     Mother Teresa said, ”If you can’t feed a hundred people, than feed one.” Don’t let life just float on by. Make a difference. Make a difference in your family, in your community, in your church, in your business, in all areas of your life. It wasn’t until I started trying to live for other people and other things that I have felt the most fulfilled and a true joy in my life.

       Don’t get me wrong; I don’t have it figured out and I’m not perfect. I’m not even good about doing it all the time. But we all have to start somewhere. It says in the Bible we must die to self before we can truly live.

     Here’s the challenge. It’s easy to say it and agree with it. I challenge you to actually do it.

I challenge myself to not just say it, but to just do it.

Becoming a Parent

     Becoming a parent is one thing that could not have been appropriately described to me. As a parent, I know I would not be able to describe it, but I will share some random thoughts on it.

     There are some things that can be described. For example, having a cavity filled by a bad dentist is like someone sticking a nail in your mouth and hammering it into your gums. There was one visit where I could smell my tooth burning from the drill. I courteously asked if he was starting a fire in my mouth to roast marshmallows. Only problem was he had his fingers in my mouth so it came out as, ”Ah ou aring a ir n i ouh oo oas ashellos”. He smiled with his eyebrows while I cursed with my mind and crushed the armrests in my hands to ease the pain. I know, nothing like the act of childbirth, but nonetheless, not enjoyable.

       I was never been great with kids until they could get to the age of telling me what they wanted or what was wrong. I could never figure out what was going on. With my cleanliness and orderly issues I didn’t enjoy the barf, spit up, diaper leaks (can they still not solve that?), and everything else that came out of the kid.

     Stephanie still tells people about the time some friends of ours handed me their newborn and I looked beyond awkward holding him. Or the time someone asked if I wanted to hold the baby and I politely declined. By politely declined I probably responded with, “I’m good. You look like a pro.”

       When the day came that they handed my sweet little daughter to me I couldn’t let go. I’ve never had that true sense where I would die or kill for someone, outside of my wife, until that little girl was handed to me. We had the best doctor who was a true gentleman and scholar. When little Frankie Jane was crying in the delivery room he said to me, “That sound will cost you thousands of dollars, Dad.” He’s right.

     The amount of joy and love that I feel for that little girl is unmatched, except to my wife. I was hooked as soon as those beautiful blue eyes looked into mine. I can’t stop holding her, being with her, watching her, talking to her, listening to her, or experiencing every moment with her. I love the times when she would take naps on me. Or recently when we played for hours while Stephanie was at a baby shower for a couple we work with.

As I was holding Frankie in the hospital there was a realization that I never had before that moment. I was able to sense in the smallest degree the pain and sorrow God must have felt in sending his son to die for humanity. I could never adequately understand the hurt and sacrifice until I held my own child in my arms.

     Becoming a parent is the best thing that can happen to you. Don’t take that responsibility lightly, but live every moment of it to the fullest.

Criticism

     Anyone and everyone will critique what I do. Isn’t that true for everyone though? What you wear, what you say, what you do, how you do it, what color you do it in. You get the point.

     Wednesday night services are mixed differently than a Sunday morning or evening. It’s a little quieter, a little more subdued in treatment, more vocal heavy, and less electric guitar and drum driven.

     I’m not exempt from an off night, weekend, week, or month. Okay, that is excessive. An off night or service can definitely happen though. The hard situation is when I get critiqued while I thought it was a decent night.

           It was a dark and cold night. Well a dark night because what night isn’t dark and it won’t be cold during a service for very long. After mixing what I thought was a decent evening I was assaulted on my way out of the booth. The culprits were two older women. The mix isn’t necessarily catered to one group, but if you are over forty it will start to be further than what you crave. You might be too mature for what is offered. They proceeded to tell me that it seemed as if someone training must have been mixing. I asked what they were unhappy with, to which they responded, it was just an off night.

     That’s like saying I didn’t like that movie, you ask me why, and all I say is “I just didn’t enjoy it”. Lame. Think about it. Don’t just pass by the moment. Decide who you are, what you like or don’t like, and why you like or don’t like it.

            After the Twisted Sisters were done harassing me about my mix in training I continued on down the aisle. To my disbelief I had a husband and wife approach and tell me that it sounded amazing in service, and continued to explain why.

     Once this happened I was dumbfounded. How can one person so passionately hate the mix and another person love the mix in the same experience? Then I realized it was all about preference. It was subjectivism and not objectivism.

     I called a friend for counsel instead of opinion. He split it up the middle like myself. Wasn’t the best, wasn’t the worst, it was just plain good.

            I’ve found that with criticism I take it for what it is. I always listen, but then decide if I agree, which helps when it is clearly explained. I try not to get defensive; I don’t hold anything I do as perfect or right. I’m open to advice and suggestion, but non-solution oriented criticism I hold at arms length.

     There is a saying: those who can’t, teach. I’ve added to it: those who can’t, critique.

If I write a song, I’m going to care more about what Chris Martin and Bono think than I’m going to care about some beat writer in a magazine or unknown blogger. And yes, I’m an unknown blogger, which is why I’m not using this to review music, movies, and books.

     There is a difference when you are being paid to do work. That’s not criticism, but expectation. Each year the White House hires an artist to design the Christmas card they send out. (Stephanie has said that I have to add that the only reason I know this is from watching “A White House Christmas” on the HGTV app for the iPhone. And I enjoyed it.) Although that artist will make what they want, they still have to have the concept and final piece approved by the First Lady. POTUS and FLOTUS will and have asked for changes before they accept the final card.

Although mixing and production work is art (this topic is a different blog), it is atypically a service role. I’m here to facilitate what is desired from those paying me. I have the ability to voice an opinion, but if it isn’t their preference I move on and do as told. If they can’t decide what they don’t like, I have to figure that out for them. That’s why I’m paid. If I don’t agree, it doesn’t matter.

I've also had to dissect work criticism from personal criticism. When something work related is critiqued I used to take it very personally. I had to learn on my own that they were criticizing the product, not the person. I will not be defined by what I do. I will be defined by who I am. Once I let go of this, it made my work so much more enjoyable.

Frankie and the Nature Center

     I grew up in Chicago, IL. To be more specific, I grew up in Mount Prospect, IL. It is a northwest suburb of Chicago about 30 minutes outside of the city. I loved going downtown, I loved working downtown, and I feel more at home in the city than any other place. You can drive for 10 minutes and have driven through 5 suburbs.

     After college I took a job in Springfield, MO. I always claimed that I would never live in Missouri. Like any arrogant urbanite I called it “misery”.

       It took a little while, but I learned from my ignorance and enjoy the culture and lifestyle of the south. I realize this isn’t the Deep South, but this is the south nonetheless.

One of the things I learned to appreciate is the outdoors. I love the outdoors of the city, but hadn’t been a true fan of the wooded outdoors. I’m not a fan of insects that are mutated into aliens, poison ivy, or anything of the sort. I found out once leaving the smog that I am allergic to clean air. I have severe allergies in Missouri, which makes it unpleasant at times.

            Recently Stephanie and I have gone to the Nature Center to walk with Frankie on my days off. The nature center is a woodsy conservation area with walking trails.

     Stephanie has said that she prayed God would use Frankie, even as a baby. That prayer became evident to me at the Nature Center.

     Frankie has been measured above the 97 percentile at her doctor’s visits. At the nature center I carry her in a baby Bjorn. Three miles with a 25-pound bowling ball strapped to your stomach is pretty tiring. Yes, I’m sure those in the military have carried more for longer. Yes, I’m sure you, in whatever you do, have as well. Congratulations.

       As we walk around the trail Frankie faces out so she can look around. Anytime someone comes near she kicks her legs, flails her arms, squeals, smiles, and claps her hands. It doesn’t matter if people were in intense conversation or having a bad day, after that interaction everyone would smile, laugh, and comment about how adorable she is. Which she is.

     This proved that Frankie is her mother’s daughter as she is far more personable than myself. But then I thought what could I do that in every interaction people are encouraged and blessed. There is a saying that we should leave people better than they were when we met them. Plato says, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.“

This is something I am not good at. As I typed that a choir of people just said "amen". I’m not proud of this, nor is it something I enjoy. In the journey of life if you aren’t continually checking what can be improved in yourself you head towards decay. Decay equals death.

In all you do be encouraged and blessed.

Clapping at Eight Months

            My daughter is almost 9 months old. She was born July 9, 2010. We named her Frankie Jane, which means Freedom/Free Man and Jehovah has been Gracious/God is Gracious. She is a tremendous joy for us.

     No one could have described what it is like to be a parent. Before Frankie was born we had been trying for three years.

We had a miscarriage in August of 2009. Walrus, that is what I had named the baby, was due March 6, 2010. That is the same day of my Grandpa Maddox’s birthday (He passed away when I was three). A miscarriage is another experience that could not have been described or explained to me. A miscarriage is something that I would not wish on my worst enemy. Especially since we are to love our enemies according to Jesus in the books of Matthew and Luke.

Being a dad of a little girl is indescribably the best experience of my life. Don’t get me wrong; I would have had a blast with a boy. But there is something special about a little girl looking at you, as you get wrapped tighter and tighter around her little finger.

One of the best experiences, so far, came at eight months. Around eight months is when Frankie started clapping. You should know that we live in a pretty mild and quiet house. We don’t yell, scream, or do things too loudly. I also can’t necessarily think of any time that I would clap at the house. I’m sure Frankie has seen people clap, but seeing her clap and the joy she expresses is one of the most surreal experiences that I never attempted to teach her.

The best is when I come home and she is sitting in her high chair because it’s dinnertime. The excitement and happiness when I walk through the door could launch me to the moon. I can’t remember a time that I’ve walked into a room and people have clapped just because I entered their presence. But that little girl lights up like a firecracker on a Chinese New Year.

Deep down I always wonder what she is so excited about, and how I can have that same happiness. To be able to find joy in the smallest thing is something that I wish I were able to hold onto, instead of the jaded lifestyle I became.

Have you ever met those people who just love life? I know I have. Before I used to think something was wrong with them. Now I realize that I was jealous of them. But to me happiness and life are what we make of them. I don’t care what has or has not happened.

The time that I remember most is when I was in the closet taking off my shoes and getting comfortable after work. She was sitting on the bed watching me and started clapping because I looked at her. At that point, and many times before, is when I decided all things would be provided for the rest of her life.  College, car, you name it kid.

Love,

Your Dad

Flying

It's a funny thing flying. I'm believing that a metal contraption the size of a building and the weight of a herd of elephants will get me someplace at a speed and altitude that would wreck my fragile existence if I attempted to fly without the plane.

You sit in a seat built for someone in junior high or late elementary school. I'm 6'4". Typically next to or sandwiched in between people that you may not ever associate with outside of this experience. Not because of prejudice or malice, but because research says you can't handle more than eight close relationships at one time.

In Fight Club, Jack tells Tyler Durden that people he flies with are considered single serving friends. You share an experience one time and never meet them again. Jack makes this assumption because everything on a plane is single serving.

I've flown a lot and hate it. I think I'd rather experience sitting in a class on advanced quantum physics. I hate science just as much as flying, but I could at least stretch out in a classroom.

Right now a young man is seated behind me talking about Christianity to a Jewish man. This plane is full of students on their way back from a missions trip to Kenya. I haven't asked. I just have the intuition of a CIA agent and deductive ability of Sherlock Holmes. Well, maybe the intuition of someone who has read books on CIA agents and the deductive ability of Dr. Watson.

On my previous flight out to North Carolina I sat next to Mr. Celebrity Builder. I have no clue who he is. He sat there with sunglasses on the whole time and held his hard hat. That isn't a metaphor; he literally held his hard hat. He was about as rude as it gets and unpleasant in all interactions.

I have plenty of flying stories to entertain a dinner table for a little while, but that's not the point. What will you do with your moments in life?

Life is a series of journeys. Every time you think you're going to grab your luggage from the carousel you run to your next connecting flight on the journey of life.

I don't consider Mr. Celebrity Builder in the wrong. He seemed to possibly have legitimate issues with sitting next to someone. He kept rubbing his face and fidgeting. Go ahead and call me Watson. Since I have a slight case of OCD and germaphobe conditions I didn't think poorly of him. I attempted to see it from his eyes. I leaned  away from him to make him comfortable. Some would say that is insensitive, but he did seem to settle down. I could tell he liked being touch as much as I do.

Make the most of these single serving friends that you meet in passing. It could be a plane, train, grocery store, or hospital. You, not outside forces, make the best and worst of every moment. What impact will you leave on the salt or sugar next to you?

On to my next flight...

Yours truly,

Dr. Sherlock Watson

Writers Write

I’ve read a lot of books, blogs, posts, and articles on the fact that writers write. That is why I am doing this. I am not an accomplished, world-renowned writer. Yet…

Just kidding. I’m not sure I’ll ever get there, but I enjoy it, and will continue to do it.

     The reason I like that phrase is it is true in everything. Diane Hood recommended Malcolm Gladwell’s book called Outliers. It’s about the story of success. One of the many points in it that I gleaned was the 10,000-hour rule. It’s funny, because before reading this book I had never heard about it. Since I’ve read the book I’ve read three other books reference it.

Now that would be astounding if I were the average American that doesn’t read more than one book a year. Right now I’ve been plowing through about four to six books a month. Not because I have nothing better to do, I just love reading.

     It’s one thing to say you are something, but if you don’t practice it then you are just a poser. Just because I am doing this blog doesn’t mean I consider myself a writer, but I do hope that it makes me a better writer. I’ve written a screenplay. I probably won’t consider myself a screenwriter until I’ve sold one, but I will continue to write them anyway.

I couldn’t have done it on my own. My friend and former roommate in college was my literary editor and collaborator on it. It would have been mediocre at best without him. Another friend from college became my format editor. I learned a lot from them, but have more to learn.

     It’s easy to do something and then move onto the next. But I challenge you to get better at what it is you do and keep working at it.

     That means you should do things to help you along with the process. Things like attending conferences or seminars, getting mentors, practicing, and sacrificing. Don’t ever settle, but push yourself.

You won’t attain perfection. Only one man in humanity was able to do that, but he had a leg up being God. Something may be good; celebrate that, enjoy the moment, but the next day work at making it better. If we don’t look to improve we settle.

     Of course there comes a time when you have to call something good and move on, but don’t be premature in that. It’s hard as a creator, innovator, or collaborator to allow others in and let them take a peek. Don’t take it personal, as they are not knocking you. They are helping. Even when you know that ahead of time you will still have to resist the urge to call them dumb and pull back. Don’t give up; don’t give in. Push on and make it better.

     So here’s this mediocre writer pressing on…

Krankies Coffee

   I have a list of topics I’m going to write about, but I figured I would touch on this since I’m sitting here. You say, sitting here? Where is here?

   Krankies. To which my friends would reply, yes you are sometimes cranky, but what does that have to do with anything?

   Krankies Coffee. In Winston-Salem, NC.

   My friend Andrew Viator is a massive connoisseur of coffee. He’s a connoisseur of other things, but that isn’t necessary for this posting (as Andrew sighs in relief).

   Andrew is a good friend from my days of Southeastern University. He always attempted to persuade me in the gift of Starbucks. I would politely decline his advances, well, sort of politely. But Andrew planted the seed. Or the bean. What have you.

   Fast forward several years and we (with our spouses) went to Washington, D.C. While there we visited Ebenezer’s and Tryst. Tryst is where Andrew introduced me to the Triple Ristretto. The gift to espresso drinkers everywhere.

   You might say what does any of this have to do with anything. Nothing to be exact. But life isn’t exact. In the details you now know that Andrew converted me to real coffee. It just took years to ferment.

   I started drinking coffee in high school. It took tremendous amounts of cream and sugar. In college I was able to wean out the sugar. After college I removed the cream and haven’t look back.

   I don’t look down on those that still require it, but I will say you miss the integrity of the taste. It is an acquired taste. I tried it when I was young because my dad drank coffee every morning. I always wanted to be like my dad (that hasn’t changed much), so I tried it, but just couldn’t do it. I didn’t give up and finally figured out it didn’t need anything added. And here I am today.

   But even that makes me think about how it took diluting something before I could truly enjoy it. I finally got to the true art of coffee, but it took me starting with so many additives. Those additives I thought were making it taste better, but instead it was just making it taste different. I wish I had been able to appreciate it as it was, without distorting it. In all things, see things as they are and don’t add to it. You can’t risk the integrity because of personal pleasure or preference.

   It’s easy to read something or look at something and take from it what you may. But sometimes you have to look a little longer at a picture to figure out why it is beautiful to the one who captured it. If I hadn’t taken the time to sit here and write this I wouldn’t have known that Andrew built some of the tables in Krankies and some of the shelves. He didn’t tell me until I had been here a little while.

   So grab a cup of coffee or whatever drink you enjoy, slow down for a little while, and find something you’ve overlooked or added. Take it away and look at the raw form. You never know what will enlighten you when you least expect it.

Brain Vomit

     In college I had a friend. Surprising to some, I know. By that you would infer the fact that I am an independent, isolationist. In other words, I’m not great with relating to other people. I don’t write that off as it being okay. Don’t get me wrong I try too. I just don’t always succeed. By the grace of God I have a fabulous, gorgeous wife and a beautiful, entertaining daughter.

   So, I start again. In college I had a friend. We would say what we wanted and sometimes it bordered on insanity. We decided to label it as brain vomit.

   I’ve started this as an outlet for my mind and my writing. The heading of this is brain vomit because in all actuality this is going to culminate in whatever comes out of my mind. So you could say that my brain is vomiting.

   I know if my mom ever reads “Brain Vomit” she will think that is disgusting, but there are a lot of things in life that are disgusting. Like the time my little girl went to the bathroom all over me while I was changing her diaper. She wasn’t more than a couple weeks old. Not her fault. Nevertheless, disgusting. You should know that I am a germaphobe and have OCD. My wife says she can still see my face when I walked out of Frankie Jane’s room after the incident. I’m glad I can’t see my face. It was horrifying.

   Let this just serve as an introduction. You now know what you are getting into when you read this. I promise, it won’t all be like an episode of Seinfeld, where it has no reason. But I can’t always guarantee that.

   Until next time…