Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Redirection in the face of...
Do you ever find yourself wanting to change things? As a result of so much change in my life, I find it time to go a different way at church. Pastor and I have been talking, I have been praying, and because so much work time is down time (sorry taxpayers) I have decided to try my hand at writing curriculum. Now I dont expect Nazarene Publishing to see it, and decide to actually update their material into something reasonably 2009ish, but I know what I see does not seem to be releavant to our kids today. We have been using "Good Book" by David Plotz as our research in Sunday School, and I personally like how it is going. It is a book about the Old Testament from a Jewish man's view. And so far, so good. And why not use resources other than dated material (like Matthew Henry or Vine's). So, tonight at the board meeting ( I love these times) I will see what the church board thinks. Hopefully, they wont even notice.
Friday, September 4, 2009
September 11, 2001
What I remember...
Gary Condit and the missing intern, shark attacks, and would Michael Jordan return to basketball. that was it on the morning news.
Then things changed.
By the end of the day I was happy to have family and friends and everyone safe.
I grieved for the lost.
I watched a special on CBS, with people falling out the towers.
I grieved for the world.
I slowly watched us forget about compassion, again.
But I still remember, every year. When I see stupid advertisments that seem to believe that it is okay to use 9-11 to sell their product.
It will never be okay.
Would we joke about Pearl Harbor?
Or Omaha Beach? Or Gettysburg?
Or anyplace where blood was spilled?
I miss the towers.
I still see them in movies and it makes me sad.
I dont think I will every understand the point that the hijackers were trying to make.
I never understand how death can prove a point.
Simple words would have been just as effective.
I would hope we have learned something.
I doubt it.
To those who lost someone that day...
I am sad for you.
For us.
For this world.
I wish that some lesson could be learned.
Gary Condit and the missing intern, shark attacks, and would Michael Jordan return to basketball. that was it on the morning news.
Then things changed.
By the end of the day I was happy to have family and friends and everyone safe.
I grieved for the lost.
I watched a special on CBS, with people falling out the towers.
I grieved for the world.
I slowly watched us forget about compassion, again.
But I still remember, every year. When I see stupid advertisments that seem to believe that it is okay to use 9-11 to sell their product.
It will never be okay.
Would we joke about Pearl Harbor?
Or Omaha Beach? Or Gettysburg?
Or anyplace where blood was spilled?
I miss the towers.
I still see them in movies and it makes me sad.
I dont think I will every understand the point that the hijackers were trying to make.
I never understand how death can prove a point.
Simple words would have been just as effective.
I would hope we have learned something.
I doubt it.
To those who lost someone that day...
I am sad for you.
For us.
For this world.
I wish that some lesson could be learned.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
It has been a long time. I am adding this to the First Church of the Nazarene in Pana website starting today. I want it to be understood. Anything written on here in no way, shape, of form, reflects the beliefs of the Nazarene Church of North America, and definitely not the one in Pana, Illinois. If you have problems, concerns, questions, or anything please direct your correspondence to me via the web response in this blog. Don't stop by the house, where I work, or call me.
I will occassionally write about the political happenings in the great state of Illinois (sarcasm sign). Once again, my opinions, not the churches, the pastors, or the congregations. As we attempt to make this website more viable, I hope that others will add blog sites to it and it becomes as "cool" as the one that Decatur First has.
Come on people, we have a steeple now. We can move into the 21st century with a cool website as well.
I will occassionally write about the political happenings in the great state of Illinois (sarcasm sign). Once again, my opinions, not the churches, the pastors, or the congregations. As we attempt to make this website more viable, I hope that others will add blog sites to it and it becomes as "cool" as the one that Decatur First has.
Come on people, we have a steeple now. We can move into the 21st century with a cool website as well.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Happy Birthday Mom
Today is her birthday. And I miss her. I would have called and sang Happy Birthday.
But instead, I grieve for this lost family.
But instead, I grieve for this lost family.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
It's Almost Over...thank God.
As we near the end of forty-four days of prayer and the drama, “Heavens Gates, Hells Flames”, there is definitely one thing that is noticeable. I could say it is the devil attacking us, or the Holy Spirit is so present in the drama, but what it really is, what is really defining about this time period, is how invincible we believe we are.
Now I know that we should believe that we are super, that nothing can defeat us, but when we get like that we become lazy and mundane. I noticed it last night. There were people laughing, farting, and generally discouraged about how they were doing in the drama. There was no uniformity, no sense of purpose, and no end in sight. Could I somehow chalk it up to exhaustion? Could it be that people were so tired that they were getting punch drunk? Or had we as a group lost our vision…
One thing that has bothered me over the last few days is the lack of a “saintly presence” in the evening services. We have older adults in the church who we consider “saints”, and they are being perfectly absent from the drama. I have seen a few faithful, but there are a lot of missing faces. It is puzzling to me that a praying church does not have more people actually visible, and praying. Maybe you are one of those people, just not there. Maybe you don’t like the thought of new people possibly coming to church, or maybe the NCAA tournament is more important, I don’t know. But I am really aggravated by it. If we want the church, and the kingdom of God, filled to overflowing, then maybe we have to be involved in the process. Maybe we have to sacrifice. I have only missed a few nights of the forty days of prayer, and I didn’t feel right when I did miss. I want to be at the drama, if for no other reason then to be support for the cast and crew. But I end up at the altar every night, praying for and with people. And then I stick around, just in case someone needs to talk. The first night I am glad I did, because a young man lagged behind, regretting that he had not gone forward earlier in the evening. I walked him to the altar, thirty minutes after the drama was over, and led him to Jesus. I stayed to talk to another young man, and have made sure that I am around if someone needs to talk.
Am I going to miss a favorite television show tonight? Yes I am. No I care? No I do not. I have the ability, or rather my television has the ability, to record it for me so I can watch it later. So do I have an excuse? Of course, I have several. Our dishes need washed, my back hurts, my feet hurts, I am tired, and the house needs attention. But I have discovered that people and their lives are more important than a wooden spoon with dried egg on it. My back and feet will get better, souls are more important.
There is a lot of work to do before we can grow as a church. Getting past our small church mentality is a priority. We are not a small church…we are not a small congregation…and we need to realize that we are being watched by the community.
And we need to get off our dead butts and start telling people about our God, who we can yell at, who we can not understand all the time, but who loves us anyway. The God who sent his son to die for us, me, you, that guy, what’s her name, and all the people in between.
We are not supermen or wonder women. We are flawed beings that need to show others that, so we can all work together for the greater good. It is almost time to go, and we need to be ready.
Now I know that we should believe that we are super, that nothing can defeat us, but when we get like that we become lazy and mundane. I noticed it last night. There were people laughing, farting, and generally discouraged about how they were doing in the drama. There was no uniformity, no sense of purpose, and no end in sight. Could I somehow chalk it up to exhaustion? Could it be that people were so tired that they were getting punch drunk? Or had we as a group lost our vision…
One thing that has bothered me over the last few days is the lack of a “saintly presence” in the evening services. We have older adults in the church who we consider “saints”, and they are being perfectly absent from the drama. I have seen a few faithful, but there are a lot of missing faces. It is puzzling to me that a praying church does not have more people actually visible, and praying. Maybe you are one of those people, just not there. Maybe you don’t like the thought of new people possibly coming to church, or maybe the NCAA tournament is more important, I don’t know. But I am really aggravated by it. If we want the church, and the kingdom of God, filled to overflowing, then maybe we have to be involved in the process. Maybe we have to sacrifice. I have only missed a few nights of the forty days of prayer, and I didn’t feel right when I did miss. I want to be at the drama, if for no other reason then to be support for the cast and crew. But I end up at the altar every night, praying for and with people. And then I stick around, just in case someone needs to talk. The first night I am glad I did, because a young man lagged behind, regretting that he had not gone forward earlier in the evening. I walked him to the altar, thirty minutes after the drama was over, and led him to Jesus. I stayed to talk to another young man, and have made sure that I am around if someone needs to talk.
Am I going to miss a favorite television show tonight? Yes I am. No I care? No I do not. I have the ability, or rather my television has the ability, to record it for me so I can watch it later. So do I have an excuse? Of course, I have several. Our dishes need washed, my back hurts, my feet hurts, I am tired, and the house needs attention. But I have discovered that people and their lives are more important than a wooden spoon with dried egg on it. My back and feet will get better, souls are more important.
There is a lot of work to do before we can grow as a church. Getting past our small church mentality is a priority. We are not a small church…we are not a small congregation…and we need to realize that we are being watched by the community.
And we need to get off our dead butts and start telling people about our God, who we can yell at, who we can not understand all the time, but who loves us anyway. The God who sent his son to die for us, me, you, that guy, what’s her name, and all the people in between.
We are not supermen or wonder women. We are flawed beings that need to show others that, so we can all work together for the greater good. It is almost time to go, and we need to be ready.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Dieting people around the fat not junior senator from Illinois.
I hate people that make you diet along with them.
If it is working for you, then great. I personally cannot eat that much meat and cheese all day.
I like bread.
So shut up.
If it is working for you, then great. I personally cannot eat that much meat and cheese all day.
I like bread.
So shut up.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Tough times, day two
Day two of “the tough times”, that is what I am calling it. I cant get Dad or Michelle off my mind. The other night at prayer someone mentioned another family where the matriarch had passed away, and how sometimes family’s struggle after that. If she only knew.
The loss of mom started a firestorm of problems for our small family. As she struggled for those 21 days before her passing, it drew us closer together, for the most part. I yelled at one of my aunts at one point, telling her to go home because she was so mean to my father. As mom fell into unconsciousness later that evening, I called her back to the hospital. We apologized to each other, but our relationship will never be the same. My dad wants nothing to do with another of mom’s sisters, because for years they helped her out, only to see nothing in return. But I saw a different side to her, and as Mom slowly left us, she kept reading about possible cures on the Internet, kept on the doctors and nurses, and even tried to see about moving Mom to a St. Louis hospital to help her. She cared deeply for mom, and sadly all my dad sees is that she owes him money.
Of course, my sister is angry at me over my relationship with mom. For many years my mother was more like a friend to me than a mom. She was an incredible listener, and she did more worrying for other people than she did for herself. And the one thing she craved more than anything else was a relationship with my sister. She would call and leave messages, cry over unreturned calls, and try to figure out how to make things better. And I really don’t understand what divided mom and my sister. But it was huge in the eyes of my sister. After my sister and her husband were hit by a drunk driver in 1996, I thought things were a little better. I watched mom spend four straight nights at the hospital, sleeping against a hospital table, watching and praying over my sister. And then she was there everyday after that, watching over my brother-in-law, doing what she did best, worrying.
But somehow Michelle is mad about something else. After my wife broke her back we went to Mom and Dad for financial help. I was unemployed, and Christmas was approaching. Bills were piling up, and Kim’s disability would not start for a few months. Aflac insurance helped a lot, but it was not enough. Kim’s surgery cost $194,000 dollars, and thank God for our insurance. But there were a lot of expenses. And we used credit cards to pay the bills, buy groceries, gas, and yes, sometimes junk we did not need. But we worked out an arrangement to pay it all back to my parents. And then Mom died and Dad started looking at his bills.
And my sister found out about our arrangement with mom and dad. And this made her mad at me, saying that I was taking advantage of them. I admit I did take advantage, but in a good way. I don’t know how we would have survived without them. And when times got tough for them, we also turned the favor around and helped them out. That is what mom was about, helping (and worrying.) Michelle then took her frustrations out on Andrew, our adopted son, blaming him for stuff as well. Then it was the Taylorville house, our moving to Pana, our driving to Springfield to work everyday, whatever she could think of to be mad about.
And I want to help Dad, because I crave a relationship with him. He is my father, and he has been a good one. He protected me from bullies when I was small, he taught me not to fight unless I had no other choice, and he taught me how to parallel park. He took me fishing, and started me on a love affair with that. He accepted my friends, my wife, and my faith, without too many questions. He was a lot of fun, but now that has all been severed by the death of my mom.
And my sister, how I miss her and Tracey being a part of my life. We were best friends growing up, spending time on the Taylorville square while Mom was getting her harir done at the beauty shop. We had a routine, going to Mortons and getting a nickel soda from their fountain, stopping at Rene’s and looking at magazines, then to Jubelt’s for a doughnut, then to Pearce’s for another cheap fountain drink. Then it was Woolworth’s Five and Dime, the Little Professor Book Store, the record store, and back to the beauty shop. When we went to Frank’s Food Fair on the weekly grocery store run, her and I would take hands and head across the parking lot to Sthiels Drug Store and the Ben Franklin Five and Dime while Mom and Dad shopped. I remember watching her shove her arm into a soda machine, and pulling out free sodas. I remember playing with the t.v. tube tester at the front of Frank’s, and checking for change at the Laundromat next door to the grocery store. I remember going to the free kids Wednesday matinees with her, seeing The Apple Dumpling Gang movies, Don Knotts movies, Planet of the Apes, and others. I remember getting her in to see Amityville Horror and Escape from New York, because none of my friends wanted to go. We went to rock concerts together, vacation bible school programs, and I helped her learn to read.
I remember being in the hospital room the day Tracey came out of his coma. I remember keeping their dog, Ted, so they could take a trip after they both had recovered. I remember staying with her until Tracey recovered, not being fast enough to stop Ted from grabbing a filet mignon off the grill, fixing cucumber sandwiches (I know, imagine me liking those), and sweeping out their flooded basement.
It was not that bad.
But now it hurts. If I did have my wife, and Andrew, and the people who tolerate me and call me friend, where would I be? And Jesus, who I accepted as Savior when I was eighteen, and even though I screwed the relationship up several times over the years, still somehow puts up with my crap. Life would be so different without these people in my life.
No matter what happens, I am grateful for God. Without Him, there would be no Kim, no Andrew, no Allens, no Glenn, no Paul, no Lori, no Nicoles, no Jerry, no Mr. Karnes, no Joe, no T-Dawgs, no Mikes, no Mindy, no Rosalind and James, no cats, no family to talk (blog) about, no Big Bang Theory or Lost, or Survivor, or Scrubs, or WWE, no books, no people that I love to tease, no Internet to ramble on, and no one to talk to when times are tough, like now.
Thank God for tough times. It makes me a better person, more aware of what I do have. Even though I still want to cry for mom.
The loss of mom started a firestorm of problems for our small family. As she struggled for those 21 days before her passing, it drew us closer together, for the most part. I yelled at one of my aunts at one point, telling her to go home because she was so mean to my father. As mom fell into unconsciousness later that evening, I called her back to the hospital. We apologized to each other, but our relationship will never be the same. My dad wants nothing to do with another of mom’s sisters, because for years they helped her out, only to see nothing in return. But I saw a different side to her, and as Mom slowly left us, she kept reading about possible cures on the Internet, kept on the doctors and nurses, and even tried to see about moving Mom to a St. Louis hospital to help her. She cared deeply for mom, and sadly all my dad sees is that she owes him money.
Of course, my sister is angry at me over my relationship with mom. For many years my mother was more like a friend to me than a mom. She was an incredible listener, and she did more worrying for other people than she did for herself. And the one thing she craved more than anything else was a relationship with my sister. She would call and leave messages, cry over unreturned calls, and try to figure out how to make things better. And I really don’t understand what divided mom and my sister. But it was huge in the eyes of my sister. After my sister and her husband were hit by a drunk driver in 1996, I thought things were a little better. I watched mom spend four straight nights at the hospital, sleeping against a hospital table, watching and praying over my sister. And then she was there everyday after that, watching over my brother-in-law, doing what she did best, worrying.
But somehow Michelle is mad about something else. After my wife broke her back we went to Mom and Dad for financial help. I was unemployed, and Christmas was approaching. Bills were piling up, and Kim’s disability would not start for a few months. Aflac insurance helped a lot, but it was not enough. Kim’s surgery cost $194,000 dollars, and thank God for our insurance. But there were a lot of expenses. And we used credit cards to pay the bills, buy groceries, gas, and yes, sometimes junk we did not need. But we worked out an arrangement to pay it all back to my parents. And then Mom died and Dad started looking at his bills.
And my sister found out about our arrangement with mom and dad. And this made her mad at me, saying that I was taking advantage of them. I admit I did take advantage, but in a good way. I don’t know how we would have survived without them. And when times got tough for them, we also turned the favor around and helped them out. That is what mom was about, helping (and worrying.) Michelle then took her frustrations out on Andrew, our adopted son, blaming him for stuff as well. Then it was the Taylorville house, our moving to Pana, our driving to Springfield to work everyday, whatever she could think of to be mad about.
And I want to help Dad, because I crave a relationship with him. He is my father, and he has been a good one. He protected me from bullies when I was small, he taught me not to fight unless I had no other choice, and he taught me how to parallel park. He took me fishing, and started me on a love affair with that. He accepted my friends, my wife, and my faith, without too many questions. He was a lot of fun, but now that has all been severed by the death of my mom.
And my sister, how I miss her and Tracey being a part of my life. We were best friends growing up, spending time on the Taylorville square while Mom was getting her harir done at the beauty shop. We had a routine, going to Mortons and getting a nickel soda from their fountain, stopping at Rene’s and looking at magazines, then to Jubelt’s for a doughnut, then to Pearce’s for another cheap fountain drink. Then it was Woolworth’s Five and Dime, the Little Professor Book Store, the record store, and back to the beauty shop. When we went to Frank’s Food Fair on the weekly grocery store run, her and I would take hands and head across the parking lot to Sthiels Drug Store and the Ben Franklin Five and Dime while Mom and Dad shopped. I remember watching her shove her arm into a soda machine, and pulling out free sodas. I remember playing with the t.v. tube tester at the front of Frank’s, and checking for change at the Laundromat next door to the grocery store. I remember going to the free kids Wednesday matinees with her, seeing The Apple Dumpling Gang movies, Don Knotts movies, Planet of the Apes, and others. I remember getting her in to see Amityville Horror and Escape from New York, because none of my friends wanted to go. We went to rock concerts together, vacation bible school programs, and I helped her learn to read.
I remember being in the hospital room the day Tracey came out of his coma. I remember keeping their dog, Ted, so they could take a trip after they both had recovered. I remember staying with her until Tracey recovered, not being fast enough to stop Ted from grabbing a filet mignon off the grill, fixing cucumber sandwiches (I know, imagine me liking those), and sweeping out their flooded basement.
It was not that bad.
But now it hurts. If I did have my wife, and Andrew, and the people who tolerate me and call me friend, where would I be? And Jesus, who I accepted as Savior when I was eighteen, and even though I screwed the relationship up several times over the years, still somehow puts up with my crap. Life would be so different without these people in my life.
No matter what happens, I am grateful for God. Without Him, there would be no Kim, no Andrew, no Allens, no Glenn, no Paul, no Lori, no Nicoles, no Jerry, no Mr. Karnes, no Joe, no T-Dawgs, no Mikes, no Mindy, no Rosalind and James, no cats, no family to talk (blog) about, no Big Bang Theory or Lost, or Survivor, or Scrubs, or WWE, no books, no people that I love to tease, no Internet to ramble on, and no one to talk to when times are tough, like now.
Thank God for tough times. It makes me a better person, more aware of what I do have. Even though I still want to cry for mom.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Do you know what's hard? Life, that's what.
I have been getting bombarded lately and it stinks. I keep attending 40 days of prayer, but I am just not into it. I am an action person, and want to be out visiting people, or doing more than staying at the church for a prescribed hour each night. There are people we should go see, that seems more effective.
And I don’t feel like it is doing much for me. I know I could be worse off. But all this financial stuff is just weighing me down. Dad calls and is ready to file bankruptcy. We are attempting to pay off his American Express card that we used a few years back when Kim broke her back. We paid him $5,000 earlier in 2008 to pay off another debt, which kind of hurt us. He has money, but he does not know how to deal with it. He plays the lottery daily, and says that now he has quit. He is dating, and the woman sounds reasonable. But he doesn’t seem to get it. When all this “what we owe him” talk came up, it drove a wedge between Michelle (my sister) and I and we have not talked since September of last year. I wish I could be free of the debt, but there are really no options out there. I have contacted debt management places, but have heard nothing back. I pray, but get no answers. I keep hoping for that surprise check to show up, but it doesn’t.
So what do we do? On top of everything else, not the junior senator’s wife has another surgery coming up soon. I worry about that. A young girl in our church tried to take her own life the other night, and I worry about her, her parents, and her brother and sister. Another girl grieves for the family that has abandoned her, and the family she wishes she were a part of. A woman in the church fights cancer, another the loss of a loved one (actually two women grieve for lost husbands), a young man struggles with seizures, another with hearing loss. A young man struggles with alcoholism, and another, and another. One man is trying to quit smoking, and another questions his worth. I have a son in college, so there are more worries. I am not alone. If I did not have Jesus in my life, it would be such a waste.
And what do I do? I worry too much, complain too much, and cry out…too much. But I don’t pray enough, care enough, or love enough to help everyone else with their problems. And I want to…see a young couple find jobs, see a dear friend come back to church, see an adopted mom start to set examples for the two young girls that need her so bad, see my pastor happy again…
It is all too much to ask for? Isn’t there a stimulus package for pain, for hurt, something to help me in my uncomfortableness besides pizza and sugar? Because right now…I am longing for a little more.
Not the Junior Senator from Illinois
And I don’t feel like it is doing much for me. I know I could be worse off. But all this financial stuff is just weighing me down. Dad calls and is ready to file bankruptcy. We are attempting to pay off his American Express card that we used a few years back when Kim broke her back. We paid him $5,000 earlier in 2008 to pay off another debt, which kind of hurt us. He has money, but he does not know how to deal with it. He plays the lottery daily, and says that now he has quit. He is dating, and the woman sounds reasonable. But he doesn’t seem to get it. When all this “what we owe him” talk came up, it drove a wedge between Michelle (my sister) and I and we have not talked since September of last year. I wish I could be free of the debt, but there are really no options out there. I have contacted debt management places, but have heard nothing back. I pray, but get no answers. I keep hoping for that surprise check to show up, but it doesn’t.
So what do we do? On top of everything else, not the junior senator’s wife has another surgery coming up soon. I worry about that. A young girl in our church tried to take her own life the other night, and I worry about her, her parents, and her brother and sister. Another girl grieves for the family that has abandoned her, and the family she wishes she were a part of. A woman in the church fights cancer, another the loss of a loved one (actually two women grieve for lost husbands), a young man struggles with seizures, another with hearing loss. A young man struggles with alcoholism, and another, and another. One man is trying to quit smoking, and another questions his worth. I have a son in college, so there are more worries. I am not alone. If I did not have Jesus in my life, it would be such a waste.
And what do I do? I worry too much, complain too much, and cry out…too much. But I don’t pray enough, care enough, or love enough to help everyone else with their problems. And I want to…see a young couple find jobs, see a dear friend come back to church, see an adopted mom start to set examples for the two young girls that need her so bad, see my pastor happy again…
It is all too much to ask for? Isn’t there a stimulus package for pain, for hurt, something to help me in my uncomfortableness besides pizza and sugar? Because right now…I am longing for a little more.
Not the Junior Senator from Illinois
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
How Sunday happened
I walked into church this past Sunday morning with a headache. Then I got the morning papers. To read that our current Junior Senator may have perjured himself suddenly made my headache go away.
And then church started. It was pretty painful watching our pastor get frustrated because things were not going the way he was hoping. The sound booth took a hit, messing up on a song, and he went back to investigate. Then God took hold and made him stop for a minute and calm down.
And then the service got taken over by God.
What impressed me that morning was the "complete joy" I saw on the faces of some people. One mom in particular was so happy because her husband and their oldest daughter were working things out at the altar. She looked so happy.
And then I saw Mark.
It is hard to believe that two years ago he and I almost came to blows after an awfully silly arguement.
Because now he is so awesome and he has no idea.
I watch him.
Not creepy stalker kind of watching, just casual observation.
And he is pretty cool.
He is a good dad. He worries about his girls. He attends all their sporting events, and he is the super fan.
And he worries about their friends.
And he works hard to keep his family comfortable.
That was what got to me on Sunday morning. To look at the faces and see people honestly concerned about their family and their extended church family. And I hope it continues.
We are a pretty mixed up bunch sometimes. But we do love each other. And that is what we need to keep the focus on...so that people see God in us.
And then church started. It was pretty painful watching our pastor get frustrated because things were not going the way he was hoping. The sound booth took a hit, messing up on a song, and he went back to investigate. Then God took hold and made him stop for a minute and calm down.
And then the service got taken over by God.
What impressed me that morning was the "complete joy" I saw on the faces of some people. One mom in particular was so happy because her husband and their oldest daughter were working things out at the altar. She looked so happy.
And then I saw Mark.
It is hard to believe that two years ago he and I almost came to blows after an awfully silly arguement.
Because now he is so awesome and he has no idea.
I watch him.
Not creepy stalker kind of watching, just casual observation.
And he is pretty cool.
He is a good dad. He worries about his girls. He attends all their sporting events, and he is the super fan.
And he worries about their friends.
And he works hard to keep his family comfortable.
That was what got to me on Sunday morning. To look at the faces and see people honestly concerned about their family and their extended church family. And I hope it continues.
We are a pretty mixed up bunch sometimes. But we do love each other. And that is what we need to keep the focus on...so that people see God in us.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Just an update
The office is insane. I have been demoted (promoted) to up front until the return of an injured coworker. At least Governor Q seems to be doing well. I wont be writing for a few days, at least until things chill.
But all is well.
But all is well.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
What you should know about my blog (updated) plus Blague updates
Let me try to be clear about something as you read this: first thing is I am a Christian, albeit not the best one, but I attempt it. Second, the title of the blog is all in fun. I, in no way, shape, or form, think that Illinois Governor Milorad Blagojevich, a.k.a. Rod, Governor Beautiful Hair, Superhair, GROD, Blague, is innocent. As the Senate is starting to listen to the tapes of his conversations, it is evident that he is a corrupt and icky little person. Third, I work for the State of Illinois, so I know what an evil and terrible governor he has been. I am in the Capitol, and he is not. He has tweaked his nose since day one at the way things should work, so the blog name is all a joke.
Fourth, on occasion, I may preach a little. It is good practice for when my pastor, a.k.a Elf, Munchkin, Stubby, Shorty, Weeman, Oompa-lumpa, cookie maker, makes me preach.
Fifth, I may not interest you everyday when you read this. The subject may bore you, so my suggestion is simple: stop reading, go and find a copy of Robocop, and watch it instead (thanks Kang). If you think my blog is bad, then Robocop may help you rethink that.
As Governor Blague makes the media rounds, I am very impressed (honestly) at how good a memory he has. He has repeated the same little speech several times in the last two days. “The Senate needs to let me speak, to call witnesses, like Rahm Emmanuel, U.S. Senators, blah…blah.” He has it down, but I am also kind of shocked by how much he sounds like Drew Peterson. “I did not, and I say it again, I did not kill my wife.” How many times can you say the same thing, before you really start to believe it? It is a creepy little political mantra of lies. “I did not have sexual relations with Miss Lewinsky.” Oops, and I actually like Clinton.
My only problem with this medial blitz (not my words) is how worthless the media has become. Not the Junior Senator’s wife and I were talking about the old reporters this morning. And once we remembered all their names (John Chancellor forgive me) it occurred to us how awful the current reporters really are. Chancellor was in Vietnam, Brinkley went after stories, even Geraldo used to be somewhat credible, but left that credibility in Capone’s vault. Ask the real questions, like “are you a big, fat liar?” or “Are you having an affair in Springfield?” or “How much do you think your children will be scarred by all this?” The current batch of reporters….suck!
I mean honestly, does he think he is doing something good here?
Rod, (if I can call you that) please listen to me. Take your ball, leave the playground, and go home. It’s over, and you lost. You are killing me, this State, your kids, everyone involved. Just Quit. I don’t want to hear Patti begging President Obama for a pardon in eight years. Or Senator Durbin…(hey, he did it for Governor Ryan).
“Don’t go away mad, just go away.”
Fourth, on occasion, I may preach a little. It is good practice for when my pastor, a.k.a Elf, Munchkin, Stubby, Shorty, Weeman, Oompa-lumpa, cookie maker, makes me preach.
Fifth, I may not interest you everyday when you read this. The subject may bore you, so my suggestion is simple: stop reading, go and find a copy of Robocop, and watch it instead (thanks Kang). If you think my blog is bad, then Robocop may help you rethink that.
As Governor Blague makes the media rounds, I am very impressed (honestly) at how good a memory he has. He has repeated the same little speech several times in the last two days. “The Senate needs to let me speak, to call witnesses, like Rahm Emmanuel, U.S. Senators, blah…blah.” He has it down, but I am also kind of shocked by how much he sounds like Drew Peterson. “I did not, and I say it again, I did not kill my wife.” How many times can you say the same thing, before you really start to believe it? It is a creepy little political mantra of lies. “I did not have sexual relations with Miss Lewinsky.” Oops, and I actually like Clinton.
My only problem with this medial blitz (not my words) is how worthless the media has become. Not the Junior Senator’s wife and I were talking about the old reporters this morning. And once we remembered all their names (John Chancellor forgive me) it occurred to us how awful the current reporters really are. Chancellor was in Vietnam, Brinkley went after stories, even Geraldo used to be somewhat credible, but left that credibility in Capone’s vault. Ask the real questions, like “are you a big, fat liar?” or “Are you having an affair in Springfield?” or “How much do you think your children will be scarred by all this?” The current batch of reporters….suck!
I mean honestly, does he think he is doing something good here?
Rod, (if I can call you that) please listen to me. Take your ball, leave the playground, and go home. It’s over, and you lost. You are killing me, this State, your kids, everyone involved. Just Quit. I don’t want to hear Patti begging President Obama for a pardon in eight years. Or Senator Durbin…(hey, he did it for Governor Ryan).
“Don’t go away mad, just go away.”
An old sermon, updated, and I hope, timely
Are you ready for some football? It’s Super Bowl time, which means food I should not be eating, really cool commercials I really never see again, the Steelers probably winning (this time without the awful referees of a few years ago), and Kurt Warner at least being in another Super Bowl. And this year, I am watching because I don’t want to see The Tubbs, a Southern gospel group at the church.
I’ve had to become somewhat of a fan. My wife loves football, and she likes the Pittsburgh Steelers. Me, I liked the Dallas Cowboys years ago when Tom Landry was the coach, when they were known as God’s team. Now they seem to spend weekends doing community service, or are out on parole. I am just glad they let Pac Man Jones go, because he sucks. So I keep the official hats, but I don’t really pay attention to what they are doing. Unless they do something bad, then Kim keeps me informed.
As of now I am less of a fan of organized sports. I used to have a saying posted on the wall of my office in a former church: “Organized religion will be the death of the church”. I have re-thought that saying to “organized sports will be the death of fun, the destruction of all that is good about being a kid.” On a Monday night a few years ago we went to watch my nephew in a junior varsity football game, Taylorville versus Lincoln. Being a 40-plus year former citizen of Taylorville I found it hard to sit on the Lincoln side, but I wanted to support my family, so there I was, entrenched firmly in enemy territory. And it was a train wreck...not on the field, but up in the stands. Andrew, Kim, and I were sitting in front of Kim’s sister, niece, and other members of the family. People were yelling at the coach to put in their special child, to take out the freshmen, to take out the sophomores, to stop trying to pass, to run the ball, to call time out, to stop embarrassing their child, and suddenly…the yelling of the fans started to cease being directed at the coach and became directed at each other. There was a verbal scrimmage in the bleachers, people were actually getting mad at one another, throwing lippy jabs, cursing each other, and the venom was flying. I cautiously moved down to the front, prepared to make a quick exit. I took Andrew along with me, leaving Kim to deal with her crazy hometown people.
I watched my nephew limp from the field after the game was over, his team defeated and his chance of getting a dog shattered. His dad had told him that if the team beat Taylorville by 40 points that he could get a dog.
They were soundly defeated and so was my nephew. I didn’t even get to speak to him; he went to the bus, not wanting to talk to anyone. After a previous game we received an e-mail that told us how everyone, including my then 16-year old nephew, had cussed out the coach at the previous game, because the coach was doing a terrible job. And after it was all over, as we sat in our living room in Taylorville for one of the last times I immediately started thinking: can you imagine having that much fight for what we believe in? And can you imagine wagering with God, telling Him you will commit to Him more if you get something in return? And finally, can you imagine walking away in defeat, because what you wanted was within your grasp, and because of a miserable team effort, you lost your heart’s desire?
I watched the movie “Fly Away Home” for the first time a few years ago. I knew about it, I actually had it written in my Bible with the idea that someday I would use the point of the movie as sermon material. But I never really watched the movie. It is the story of a little girl and the father she barely knows. After the death of her mother, she moves to Canada with her father, an eccentric artist who likes to be by himself. The little girl becomes the mother to a gaggle of Canadian geese overwhelmed by land developers, and through a series of events, leads the geese south for their annual migration.
I was impressed the first time I heard about this story because of the girl’s commitment to these geese. After watching the movie, I became more impressed by the way her and her father get to know one another. You see, she is not the only one who becomes committed to something. Her father becomes committed to getting to know her, and developing a relationship with her through the geese. At one point, the father is flying in his ultra light; he has this great joy that he is not sharing with anyone, especially this little girl that he does not know. But as the story progresses, he shares this joy with her. And it shows in their relationship, as both begin to grow. They decide to fight for what they believe in. It’s not about the geese, it’s about each other. He wants her to be happy, and she wants the geese to be free. But she is also fighting for a relationship with her father, and that is the real story. She believes in the geese, but she has to learn to believe in her father.
Mark 1:40 tells us of the leper who comes before Jesus. I picked this verse as a memory verse in my Wednesday night class and it has become a favorite and meaningful verse that I apply directly to my life. It is about sacrifice, it is about pain, it is about doing something because it is the right thing to do. The leper does not stand and wait for Jesus to walk past him; he drops to his knees in front of the Savior. He is in such pain, the pain of
leprosy, brittle bones, skin sores, wounds that do not heal, and yet he makes a sacrifice and drops to his knees. This verse is about commitment, it is
about sacrifice, and it is about trust. This man, this unclean man, who has not felt the loving touch of another in years, knows what he has heard, that this man called Jesus is healing people. And he is willing to fight for what he believes can and will happen. At the moment he makes the decision to drop to his knees he believes. Because if had not believed, he would have died in that spot, because no one would have helped him to his feet. Do you get that…he was gross, deformed, smelly, diseased, disgusting, unworthy, icky, and he still had the faith to believe that someone loved him. He had the fight to believe that there was someone out there that cared. And in that moment, it was not about Jesus healing him, it was about touch. I am committed so much that I am willing to drop on my sore, pain filled, scarred knees because I believe in you like I have never believed in anything, or anyone else. I am willing to fight for you, live for you, die for you. What would you have me to do? Just touch me, and I will be clean. Touch. What an incredible sense. But am I willing to fight?
And as far as wagering with God…
A few years ago there was a battle going on at the Pana Nazarene Church. Some of us encountered it first hand. For me, it came the Tuesday morning after a revival started. The devil started on me first thing that Tuesday morning, and when he was done with me, he went after one of our teens, Brandon. And then he moved on to others. It was a scary time, but the Lord won out. I have believed in the power of the devil for a long time, but that is a story for another time. Suffice it to say, he has no power but what we give him, no opening but what we allow, and simple prayer will do more damage than the smack of a thousand baseball bats to the side of his head. Even though that would be totally cool. When I am weak, God makes me strong, and the devil cannot win out.
And why did this happen? Because we all wagered with God. What would you have us do, so we can see blessings at a revival? In order to make a move to Pana, we had to sell our house first, or really, you have to sell it for us, GOD!!! If you want a bigger church, then you have to provide the money, GOD!!! Do you want us to go to Vandalia, then find us a really cheap building; we’ll be here safe and warm in Pana until you do. Are we supposed to talk to drug addicts, whores, and the unclean? Make it worth our efforts; bring in a rich drug addict that will tithe. Or a reformed whore that can teach a Sunday school class. Clean the unclean so we can tolerate them, please. Make them smell good, make them rich, and make them smart.
When we make bets we lose out. I call Christian wagering the “if onlys”. If only You would do this, then I would do this in return. Do you remember the saying, “No deposit, no return?” It is the way we treat God everyday. If He does not do something for us, then He is not getting anything
back. If He wants my best, then He needs to fork out a little of His best. That is not the way it works. Acts 5: 1-10 tells us about two people who wagered against God and the outcome. Ananias and Sapphira were given the simple task of being honest, and they blew it.
If Ananias and Sapphira thought they could wager with God they were sorely mistaken. God knows the heart, and he does not play games. Yell all you want to from the bleachers, complain to the coach, go to the school board, write letters to the editor, but it takes a true believer, a real lover of the game, to get up, go out, and play in the game. Or coach, participate, encourage. I saw that recently with a father who just held his daughter after a basketball game that did not go the way her team would have liked. He did not go to the coach, or complain, he just held her.
The time for wagering is over, or we all lose. It’s time to get in the game and to stop sitting on the sidelines.
But what if the team has let us down. A young man goes to his first day in a college chemistry class. The teacher, a smart alecky old man with everything to prove, asks how many Christians are in attendance. The young man, along with two or three others, gingerly raise their hands. The teacher proceeds to challenge the four believers. “I give you until the end of the semester to pray about this: I am going to drop a beaker onto the floor on the last day of class. If your god exists and answers your prayers, then the beaker will not break.”
The four students gather together after class. They agree to pray hard, assuring that the beaker will hold steady. Every night one young man prays for God to stop the beaker from breaking, he spends his free time in a chapel near the school, earnestly looking for an answer. He walks through the woods, talking to God, knowing this is a test, but more so, it is an opportunity. And then the last day of class arrives.
The professor walks to the front of the class. He looks at the four students, and announces “Let us see what your God can do.” He drops the beaker, which proceeds to hit his foot and roll across the floor, unbroken.
Afterwards the four students gather to celebrate what God has done. The three students look at the fourth and admit that they did not pray, that their class schedule, work schedule, times with their girl and boy friends, television, sports, pizza, goofing off, tests, pop quizzes, and laundry kept them from praying. The team has let him down. But one stood tall. He did not give up, and in the end, His God stood triumphant. And the team learned a valuable lesson. Where one (or two) is (are) gathered in his name…
“We’re gonna shout, shout, until the walls come down. Shout loud until the walls come down. Because we’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance, we have already won. Shout loud, shout loud, until the walls come down. Loud until the walls come down. Until the final bell. Until the final shout. We’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance. Because we’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance. We have already won.”
It is said that the Christian army is the only army that shoots its own people. The military have a term for that, its called friendly fire. And we
need to stop. Because we have already won. We are going to be let down by our team, but our coach, He stands at the sidelines, ever cheering, ever leading, ever calling out new plays, new strategy, new defensive moves, shouting out “We’re gonna shout, shout, until the walls come down. Shout loud until the walls come down. Because we’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance, we have already won. Shout loud, shout loud, until the walls come down. Loud until the walls come down. Until the final bell. Until the final shout. We’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance. Because we’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance. We have already won.”
He is not dead, he lives. The cross is empty, our team is running off the field with their heads held high, and it is because their Victory is assured. The game is over, and no one loses if we play and mean it. I am so incredibly ready for some football. My sister in law, God love her, said something very profound that day at the football game. She said that the reason Taylorville won the game was because they train all year, they condition harder than other schools, and it was not fair. I looked at her, and said, “Yeah, I would much rather be on a team that does nothing to deserve a win, than a team that works to win”. This is the way we should all feel today. I want to be on the team that works at winning. Until the walls come down. Until the final seconds of the fourth quarter. I want to win, because it not just about the game, it is about winning. Do you want to win? Do you want to shout until the final shout? Or do you want to blame someone else when we lose?
As ever...I am not the junior senator.
Oh, and by the way, stop watching the Gov on the talk shows. He is a liar, and will soon be out of office. There is no win-win here, it is all lose-lose.
I’ve had to become somewhat of a fan. My wife loves football, and she likes the Pittsburgh Steelers. Me, I liked the Dallas Cowboys years ago when Tom Landry was the coach, when they were known as God’s team. Now they seem to spend weekends doing community service, or are out on parole. I am just glad they let Pac Man Jones go, because he sucks. So I keep the official hats, but I don’t really pay attention to what they are doing. Unless they do something bad, then Kim keeps me informed.
As of now I am less of a fan of organized sports. I used to have a saying posted on the wall of my office in a former church: “Organized religion will be the death of the church”. I have re-thought that saying to “organized sports will be the death of fun, the destruction of all that is good about being a kid.” On a Monday night a few years ago we went to watch my nephew in a junior varsity football game, Taylorville versus Lincoln. Being a 40-plus year former citizen of Taylorville I found it hard to sit on the Lincoln side, but I wanted to support my family, so there I was, entrenched firmly in enemy territory. And it was a train wreck...not on the field, but up in the stands. Andrew, Kim, and I were sitting in front of Kim’s sister, niece, and other members of the family. People were yelling at the coach to put in their special child, to take out the freshmen, to take out the sophomores, to stop trying to pass, to run the ball, to call time out, to stop embarrassing their child, and suddenly…the yelling of the fans started to cease being directed at the coach and became directed at each other. There was a verbal scrimmage in the bleachers, people were actually getting mad at one another, throwing lippy jabs, cursing each other, and the venom was flying. I cautiously moved down to the front, prepared to make a quick exit. I took Andrew along with me, leaving Kim to deal with her crazy hometown people.
I watched my nephew limp from the field after the game was over, his team defeated and his chance of getting a dog shattered. His dad had told him that if the team beat Taylorville by 40 points that he could get a dog.
They were soundly defeated and so was my nephew. I didn’t even get to speak to him; he went to the bus, not wanting to talk to anyone. After a previous game we received an e-mail that told us how everyone, including my then 16-year old nephew, had cussed out the coach at the previous game, because the coach was doing a terrible job. And after it was all over, as we sat in our living room in Taylorville for one of the last times I immediately started thinking: can you imagine having that much fight for what we believe in? And can you imagine wagering with God, telling Him you will commit to Him more if you get something in return? And finally, can you imagine walking away in defeat, because what you wanted was within your grasp, and because of a miserable team effort, you lost your heart’s desire?
I watched the movie “Fly Away Home” for the first time a few years ago. I knew about it, I actually had it written in my Bible with the idea that someday I would use the point of the movie as sermon material. But I never really watched the movie. It is the story of a little girl and the father she barely knows. After the death of her mother, she moves to Canada with her father, an eccentric artist who likes to be by himself. The little girl becomes the mother to a gaggle of Canadian geese overwhelmed by land developers, and through a series of events, leads the geese south for their annual migration.
I was impressed the first time I heard about this story because of the girl’s commitment to these geese. After watching the movie, I became more impressed by the way her and her father get to know one another. You see, she is not the only one who becomes committed to something. Her father becomes committed to getting to know her, and developing a relationship with her through the geese. At one point, the father is flying in his ultra light; he has this great joy that he is not sharing with anyone, especially this little girl that he does not know. But as the story progresses, he shares this joy with her. And it shows in their relationship, as both begin to grow. They decide to fight for what they believe in. It’s not about the geese, it’s about each other. He wants her to be happy, and she wants the geese to be free. But she is also fighting for a relationship with her father, and that is the real story. She believes in the geese, but she has to learn to believe in her father.
Mark 1:40 tells us of the leper who comes before Jesus. I picked this verse as a memory verse in my Wednesday night class and it has become a favorite and meaningful verse that I apply directly to my life. It is about sacrifice, it is about pain, it is about doing something because it is the right thing to do. The leper does not stand and wait for Jesus to walk past him; he drops to his knees in front of the Savior. He is in such pain, the pain of
leprosy, brittle bones, skin sores, wounds that do not heal, and yet he makes a sacrifice and drops to his knees. This verse is about commitment, it is
about sacrifice, and it is about trust. This man, this unclean man, who has not felt the loving touch of another in years, knows what he has heard, that this man called Jesus is healing people. And he is willing to fight for what he believes can and will happen. At the moment he makes the decision to drop to his knees he believes. Because if had not believed, he would have died in that spot, because no one would have helped him to his feet. Do you get that…he was gross, deformed, smelly, diseased, disgusting, unworthy, icky, and he still had the faith to believe that someone loved him. He had the fight to believe that there was someone out there that cared. And in that moment, it was not about Jesus healing him, it was about touch. I am committed so much that I am willing to drop on my sore, pain filled, scarred knees because I believe in you like I have never believed in anything, or anyone else. I am willing to fight for you, live for you, die for you. What would you have me to do? Just touch me, and I will be clean. Touch. What an incredible sense. But am I willing to fight?
And as far as wagering with God…
A few years ago there was a battle going on at the Pana Nazarene Church. Some of us encountered it first hand. For me, it came the Tuesday morning after a revival started. The devil started on me first thing that Tuesday morning, and when he was done with me, he went after one of our teens, Brandon. And then he moved on to others. It was a scary time, but the Lord won out. I have believed in the power of the devil for a long time, but that is a story for another time. Suffice it to say, he has no power but what we give him, no opening but what we allow, and simple prayer will do more damage than the smack of a thousand baseball bats to the side of his head. Even though that would be totally cool. When I am weak, God makes me strong, and the devil cannot win out.
And why did this happen? Because we all wagered with God. What would you have us do, so we can see blessings at a revival? In order to make a move to Pana, we had to sell our house first, or really, you have to sell it for us, GOD!!! If you want a bigger church, then you have to provide the money, GOD!!! Do you want us to go to Vandalia, then find us a really cheap building; we’ll be here safe and warm in Pana until you do. Are we supposed to talk to drug addicts, whores, and the unclean? Make it worth our efforts; bring in a rich drug addict that will tithe. Or a reformed whore that can teach a Sunday school class. Clean the unclean so we can tolerate them, please. Make them smell good, make them rich, and make them smart.
When we make bets we lose out. I call Christian wagering the “if onlys”. If only You would do this, then I would do this in return. Do you remember the saying, “No deposit, no return?” It is the way we treat God everyday. If He does not do something for us, then He is not getting anything
back. If He wants my best, then He needs to fork out a little of His best. That is not the way it works. Acts 5: 1-10 tells us about two people who wagered against God and the outcome. Ananias and Sapphira were given the simple task of being honest, and they blew it.
If Ananias and Sapphira thought they could wager with God they were sorely mistaken. God knows the heart, and he does not play games. Yell all you want to from the bleachers, complain to the coach, go to the school board, write letters to the editor, but it takes a true believer, a real lover of the game, to get up, go out, and play in the game. Or coach, participate, encourage. I saw that recently with a father who just held his daughter after a basketball game that did not go the way her team would have liked. He did not go to the coach, or complain, he just held her.
The time for wagering is over, or we all lose. It’s time to get in the game and to stop sitting on the sidelines.
But what if the team has let us down. A young man goes to his first day in a college chemistry class. The teacher, a smart alecky old man with everything to prove, asks how many Christians are in attendance. The young man, along with two or three others, gingerly raise their hands. The teacher proceeds to challenge the four believers. “I give you until the end of the semester to pray about this: I am going to drop a beaker onto the floor on the last day of class. If your god exists and answers your prayers, then the beaker will not break.”
The four students gather together after class. They agree to pray hard, assuring that the beaker will hold steady. Every night one young man prays for God to stop the beaker from breaking, he spends his free time in a chapel near the school, earnestly looking for an answer. He walks through the woods, talking to God, knowing this is a test, but more so, it is an opportunity. And then the last day of class arrives.
The professor walks to the front of the class. He looks at the four students, and announces “Let us see what your God can do.” He drops the beaker, which proceeds to hit his foot and roll across the floor, unbroken.
Afterwards the four students gather to celebrate what God has done. The three students look at the fourth and admit that they did not pray, that their class schedule, work schedule, times with their girl and boy friends, television, sports, pizza, goofing off, tests, pop quizzes, and laundry kept them from praying. The team has let him down. But one stood tall. He did not give up, and in the end, His God stood triumphant. And the team learned a valuable lesson. Where one (or two) is (are) gathered in his name…
“We’re gonna shout, shout, until the walls come down. Shout loud until the walls come down. Because we’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance, we have already won. Shout loud, shout loud, until the walls come down. Loud until the walls come down. Until the final bell. Until the final shout. We’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance. Because we’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance. We have already won.”
It is said that the Christian army is the only army that shoots its own people. The military have a term for that, its called friendly fire. And we
need to stop. Because we have already won. We are going to be let down by our team, but our coach, He stands at the sidelines, ever cheering, ever leading, ever calling out new plays, new strategy, new defensive moves, shouting out “We’re gonna shout, shout, until the walls come down. Shout loud until the walls come down. Because we’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance, we have already won. Shout loud, shout loud, until the walls come down. Loud until the walls come down. Until the final bell. Until the final shout. We’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance. Because we’ve already won, and you don’t have a chance. We have already won.”
He is not dead, he lives. The cross is empty, our team is running off the field with their heads held high, and it is because their Victory is assured. The game is over, and no one loses if we play and mean it. I am so incredibly ready for some football. My sister in law, God love her, said something very profound that day at the football game. She said that the reason Taylorville won the game was because they train all year, they condition harder than other schools, and it was not fair. I looked at her, and said, “Yeah, I would much rather be on a team that does nothing to deserve a win, than a team that works to win”. This is the way we should all feel today. I want to be on the team that works at winning. Until the walls come down. Until the final seconds of the fourth quarter. I want to win, because it not just about the game, it is about winning. Do you want to win? Do you want to shout until the final shout? Or do you want to blame someone else when we lose?
As ever...I am not the junior senator.
Oh, and by the way, stop watching the Gov on the talk shows. He is a liar, and will soon be out of office. There is no win-win here, it is all lose-lose.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Our Governor is So Funny
I have been too busy today to write. Governor Beautiful Hair is on every television station, getting kissed by some, brutalized by a few.
So I will write tomorrow.
Thanks to my second follower.
Just dont drink the Kool-Aid.
So I will write tomorrow.
Thanks to my second follower.
Just dont drink the Kool-Aid.
Friday, January 23, 2009
How to continue this blog
I have decided to try doing or writing on a different theme for each day of the workweek. Like Monday would be thoughts from the weekend, but then you would be reading a lot about what happened at church, and that could be boring for a lot of readers.
Tuesday would be about Mondays, and how they suck.
Wednesday would be politics day, except when Governor Mongo does something silly, then that could be anyday.
Thursdays would be on my life, which no one would read, which brings us to Friday,
where I would come up with this stupid theme idea.
I have nothing else to say.
Oh, and by the way Governor Hair-so-not-perfect, before you say your life is like a Frank Capra movie, remember these titles:
A Hole in the Head
Know your Enemy
The Strange Case of the Cosmic Rays
State of the Union
You Can't Take it With You
American Madness
and oddly appropriate...Dirgible (about a large item filled with hot air)
Tuesday would be about Mondays, and how they suck.
Wednesday would be politics day, except when Governor Mongo does something silly, then that could be anyday.
Thursdays would be on my life, which no one would read, which brings us to Friday,
where I would come up with this stupid theme idea.
I have nothing else to say.
Oh, and by the way Governor Hair-so-not-perfect, before you say your life is like a Frank Capra movie, remember these titles:
A Hole in the Head
Know your Enemy
The Strange Case of the Cosmic Rays
State of the Union
You Can't Take it With You
American Madness
and oddly appropriate...Dirgible (about a large item filled with hot air)
Thursday, January 22, 2009
I fell down and broke my governor
I dont feel like writing too much today. It finally looks like our beloved Governor has decided to go with the insanity arguement. He will not face the Illinois Senate, instead saying he will go on the national airwaves to plead his case.
One word...crazy.
His wife, she of the unibrow, lost her job yesterday afternoon.
They have nothing left.
But he keeps on acting like today is just another day.
Now we all know he is not nuts. He got caught, plain and simple. And is there anyone that will judge him unfit to stand trial based on an insanity defense?
I mean, unless Director of Natural Resources Granberg or Hollywood Dunkin become judges. Thank goodness Jay "hold on, my head is stuck" Hoffman gave up on GRod a few weeks ago and decided it was time to get out of Dodge, or he would have to have applied for a judgeship right now.
Rod is not crazy after all. He is a man in need of saving.
So right now I am offering my services as a pastor. If he needs to talk, I am readily available to counsel him. Does he need a shoulder to cry on, I have two. Does he need a friend, then I am here for him.
It is my calling (see previous posts) and I will do it.
I will be the outstretched hand.
I will be the Jesus he needs.
Oh sure, I will lose some credibility, but I did not have that much anyway.
And I am fulfilling a mission given by God himself. You know, help others.
Maybe if he is crazy enough to believe that insanity is the way to go, he is just crazy enough to reach out to me.
So, if you know the Gov, let him know that there is a lonely blogger in Illinois that wants to help. Let him know he has a friend. Maybe it will help him in the long run.
As always,
I am
not the Junior Senator from Ilinois
One word...crazy.
His wife, she of the unibrow, lost her job yesterday afternoon.
They have nothing left.
But he keeps on acting like today is just another day.
Now we all know he is not nuts. He got caught, plain and simple. And is there anyone that will judge him unfit to stand trial based on an insanity defense?
I mean, unless Director of Natural Resources Granberg or Hollywood Dunkin become judges. Thank goodness Jay "hold on, my head is stuck" Hoffman gave up on GRod a few weeks ago and decided it was time to get out of Dodge, or he would have to have applied for a judgeship right now.
Rod is not crazy after all. He is a man in need of saving.
So right now I am offering my services as a pastor. If he needs to talk, I am readily available to counsel him. Does he need a shoulder to cry on, I have two. Does he need a friend, then I am here for him.
It is my calling (see previous posts) and I will do it.
I will be the outstretched hand.
I will be the Jesus he needs.
Oh sure, I will lose some credibility, but I did not have that much anyway.
And I am fulfilling a mission given by God himself. You know, help others.
Maybe if he is crazy enough to believe that insanity is the way to go, he is just crazy enough to reach out to me.
So, if you know the Gov, let him know that there is a lonely blogger in Illinois that wants to help. Let him know he has a friend. Maybe it will help him in the long run.
As always,
I am
not the Junior Senator from Ilinois
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
I want to recommend a few things.
I just want to do this every once in a while. My dear friend, Gherkin, always sends a Christmas letter with her book and movie choices for the last year and I love reading it. Usually there are several items we agree on, sometimes I have to search out her choices, but usually they are worth the hunting.
So, without further blogging, comes my list for December and January.
The Shack by William Young. If you haven’t read it, why not? It is all over the Walmart, even though I initially ordered it from Amazon. I actually finished it at 5:30 a.m. in Mintouk State Park in Missouri on a camping trip last summer. (Yes, I went camping, and yes, I hated it) The book is great, and that is all I will say about it.
My Beautiful Idol by Pete Gall. I waited until I heard back from the author before I decided to add this to my list. When Pete responded to my e-mail I knew he was normal and not just another Christian author trying to find readers. His book was in the wrong section of the local Christian bookstore, and so it kind of stuck out like a sore thumb. It is a semi-biographical book that was in the “youth ministry” section. (Way to read the description bookstore people). Anyway, this book had me in the opening chapter, when God reminds Pete of his call to ministry. (see my blog “Getting Past It” to understand why this hits home.) And Pete continues to share, and he is so amazingly honest that I found it refreshing and really quite Jesus-like. I believe Pete is not going to be the next Donald Miller, and that is a good thing. He is his own person, and needs to keep writing that way. Go to www.petegall.com for info on his next book, due in April.
Ghost Town…with Ricky Gervais and Tea Leoni. Loved this movie. It is about redemption, and it is funny. Gervais’ character, Dr. Pincus, is a sad man who finds love, and he plays it perfectly. When he is sitting on his bed getting scolded by Greg Kinnear’s character, expect to be saddened by his life. We rented this the same time as Apaloosa, a western, which blew chunks.
And finally, I love “My Name is Earl”. We watched this the first year, and sadly stopped when Survivor came in against it. Kim (not the junior senator’s wife) bought the first three seasons for me at Christmas and it just gets better. Two episodes in particular have been great. The Camden episode of Cops and the episode where Earl, Randy, Joy, and Crabman all tell their versions of a story about stolen silverware are two of the funniest. Jason Lee, Ethan Supple, and Jaime Pressley deserve Emmy’s. Honorable mention to Big Bang Theory, The Office, and Scrubs.
I am
not the Junior Senator from Illinois
So, without further blogging, comes my list for December and January.
The Shack by William Young. If you haven’t read it, why not? It is all over the Walmart, even though I initially ordered it from Amazon. I actually finished it at 5:30 a.m. in Mintouk State Park in Missouri on a camping trip last summer. (Yes, I went camping, and yes, I hated it) The book is great, and that is all I will say about it.
My Beautiful Idol by Pete Gall. I waited until I heard back from the author before I decided to add this to my list. When Pete responded to my e-mail I knew he was normal and not just another Christian author trying to find readers. His book was in the wrong section of the local Christian bookstore, and so it kind of stuck out like a sore thumb. It is a semi-biographical book that was in the “youth ministry” section. (Way to read the description bookstore people). Anyway, this book had me in the opening chapter, when God reminds Pete of his call to ministry. (see my blog “Getting Past It” to understand why this hits home.) And Pete continues to share, and he is so amazingly honest that I found it refreshing and really quite Jesus-like. I believe Pete is not going to be the next Donald Miller, and that is a good thing. He is his own person, and needs to keep writing that way. Go to www.petegall.com for info on his next book, due in April.
Ghost Town…with Ricky Gervais and Tea Leoni. Loved this movie. It is about redemption, and it is funny. Gervais’ character, Dr. Pincus, is a sad man who finds love, and he plays it perfectly. When he is sitting on his bed getting scolded by Greg Kinnear’s character, expect to be saddened by his life. We rented this the same time as Apaloosa, a western, which blew chunks.
And finally, I love “My Name is Earl”. We watched this the first year, and sadly stopped when Survivor came in against it. Kim (not the junior senator’s wife) bought the first three seasons for me at Christmas and it just gets better. Two episodes in particular have been great. The Camden episode of Cops and the episode where Earl, Randy, Joy, and Crabman all tell their versions of a story about stolen silverware are two of the funniest. Jason Lee, Ethan Supple, and Jaime Pressley deserve Emmy’s. Honorable mention to Big Bang Theory, The Office, and Scrubs.
I am
not the Junior Senator from Illinois
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
History and a lot of the same
Well, history has been made. President Obama is now a big part of history. I remember when I took my "eyes on the prize" class in graduate school. I immediately fell in love with civil rights. Whether it was Dr. King, Meadger Evers, Emmitt Till, or Diane Nash, the people involved in change became instant heroes to me. Plus, I admit, I just loved Diane Nash. She was, and may still be, so beautiful, so eloquent, and so tough.
And today, it happened. This country saw history being made. I voted for him, I will proudly admit it.
And about five minutes after the events in D.C., I got my first e-mailed racist joke about him.
First, let me say this...stop emailing me crap. I dont care how funny you think videos of people getting hit in the testitular region is, I am a guy, so not so much. Unless it's skateboarders or people doing things illegal, then I am okay with it. Or emails that start out with "Guys are so stupid..." again, not a big fan.
And if you have racist jokes about the leader of our country, keep them to yourself. IF he makes mistakes, and he will, then I am all for Leno and Letterman making a joke, but racist humor seems better suited for your neighborhood klan meeting than showing up on my email.
He will screw up, and he will be humbled by it. When he worked here in the Illinois State Capitol, a photographer followed him everywhere trying to catch him in a gaffe. (this was during his run for the U.S. Senate seat against Jim Ryan). Imagine being under the scrunity all day, I know I would slip.
But the last thing we need to know is dig up our ancestors and start making crass and asinine jokes about him. Are you jealous? Are you just thrilled to be showing your absolute stupidity?
I dont mind, it is a free country. Just keep me out of it.
Oh, and if any of you three or four readers ever run into Diane Nash, tell her I love her.
And today, it happened. This country saw history being made. I voted for him, I will proudly admit it.
And about five minutes after the events in D.C., I got my first e-mailed racist joke about him.
First, let me say this...stop emailing me crap. I dont care how funny you think videos of people getting hit in the testitular region is, I am a guy, so not so much. Unless it's skateboarders or people doing things illegal, then I am okay with it. Or emails that start out with "Guys are so stupid..." again, not a big fan.
And if you have racist jokes about the leader of our country, keep them to yourself. IF he makes mistakes, and he will, then I am all for Leno and Letterman making a joke, but racist humor seems better suited for your neighborhood klan meeting than showing up on my email.
He will screw up, and he will be humbled by it. When he worked here in the Illinois State Capitol, a photographer followed him everywhere trying to catch him in a gaffe. (this was during his run for the U.S. Senate seat against Jim Ryan). Imagine being under the scrunity all day, I know I would slip.
But the last thing we need to know is dig up our ancestors and start making crass and asinine jokes about him. Are you jealous? Are you just thrilled to be showing your absolute stupidity?
I dont mind, it is a free country. Just keep me out of it.
Oh, and if any of you three or four readers ever run into Diane Nash, tell her I love her.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Getting Past it.
Getting Past IT!
“Anything a client says in a lawyer’s office is confidential, so I’ve gotten used to holding on to secrets. They’re usually nothing incriminating, but a lot of people have accounts they haven’t reconciled; things they’re just not ready to share.”
Richard Gere’s character John Clark in “Shall we Dance?”
Isn’t it amazing what can hold a person back. We all have dreams, aspirations, goals, ideas about what the future should be, and yet we allow things to hold us back.. I look back and remember what I wanted to be some day…an architect. It seems like so long ago that my Dad and I drove the 120 miles to the Quincy Technical School to consider enrolling. I took architecture classes at Lincoln Land for two semesters, then something happened.
One day I got a call to go into ministry. Can we go back in time for a minute so I can yell at God about this call? Here we go...get ready..and here we are in 1982. “God, what are you thinking? I am going to make some big money, I am going to be rich, have my dream home, design homes for other people, it is what I want. I have all those house plan books, all the magazines, all the drafting tools, this is what I want.” “I am not ministry material.” “Leave me alone.” “Shut up.” “What a stupid idea.”
And now we return to the present. And I didn’t win the argument with God. He is still the God of the whirlwind, the hummingbird, the big Chief, the head cheese, and I am less than nothing.
There is a popular book series called “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff…and it’s all small stuff.” The problem I have with this is not everything is small stuff to the person involved. It is easy for the author to say “Get over it, get past it, let it go, let God” and all those other little catchphrases, but is he standing in my shoes? Is he dealing with the same God that I deal with? Is he hearing this call to ministry? Did he lose his mother recently? Is he stuck in a job he cannot stand, waiting for his house to sell, watching bills accumulate, having things stolen off his porch, dealing with a mortgage company that does not return calls, attempting to help others while your own world crumbles? No. This pompus jackweed is living off the residuals from his best selling book, knowing that he can continue to belch out trite little mini-blessing books and everyone will just love them. "Oh thank you, mister optimism, I feel all shiny and happy now." And then he can spew out more cutesy little books with pithy little sayings that are supposed to help us climb out of this pit of anguish that we live in. Well, it isn’t working Mr. "Don't Sweat It". He can take his books out of the Wal-Marts and Borders tomorrow because I am not buying “pithy” crap again. I need a book called “Sweat it up big boy, because you know you’re going to be doing a lot of it so you might as well get really good at it.”
Do we have something we need to share? Or is that it then? Richard Gere says this is how people end up, when the estate has been settled, and all the paperwork is complete, all they can muster is ""is that it then?" Is our life over with two simple pages of our will? And really, do we want to be remembered for our stuff?
Peter Walsh is probably not well-known, but he is a cleaner, and one of the stars of a show called “Clean Sweep” on TLC. The premise of the show is simple, homeowners ask the show’s team to come in and help them clean, usually two rooms that look like tornadoes have went through them. There are piles made in the backyard, one for keeping items, one for items to sell, and one to throw out. After the couples are done separating their accumulated junk, Peter comes out. He looks at their keep pile and then informs them that it has to be made even smaller. He is annoying, headstrong, and usually gets his way. One of his key points is “Our stuff should never define who we are.” And the keep pile becomes smaller, the sell and throw away piles grow bigger. People begin to notice that they are defined by who they are, not what they own.
After mom died, I really noticed that she was not about her stuff. The china cabinet, her prized possession, was not so important to me after she died. So I sold it, to a dear friend who I knew would care for it. What would be more important is to have my sister back in my life a little less angry, to have my father be happy again, and not so mad at the world, and to have mom back, just so I could talk to her when life starts to bum me out, and it is really starting to bum me out. That is what she was about, her ability to care, to listen, even when her health was not the best, when things were weighing her down, she always had time for anybody.
We come to a place where there is finality. All our past debts need to be zeroed out, we are put in the clear, the books are in the black.. We shall not be mastered, weighed down, by anything. (All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything.) 1 Corinthians 6:12
Things can only get better, and I wish I believed that. But for right now, I long for things to get better. I want to get past it, but I cannot. I want life to be a little more debt free, for our house problems to go away, for my "not the junior senator's wife" to be healthy, for my job to be enjoyable again, for the crock to show back up on our porch, for God to be more present in the my life, for the "junior senator's" son to find his center, for bills to go away, and for my friends to all be happy so I have something to aspire to. I want to be more like my mom, I want to care about others and stop worrying so much about my problems, but right now I cannot. I want to get to that place of finality. And soon.
“Anything a client says in a lawyer’s office is confidential, so I’ve gotten used to holding on to secrets. They’re usually nothing incriminating, but a lot of people have accounts they haven’t reconciled; things they’re just not ready to share.”
Richard Gere’s character John Clark in “Shall we Dance?”
Isn’t it amazing what can hold a person back. We all have dreams, aspirations, goals, ideas about what the future should be, and yet we allow things to hold us back.. I look back and remember what I wanted to be some day…an architect. It seems like so long ago that my Dad and I drove the 120 miles to the Quincy Technical School to consider enrolling. I took architecture classes at Lincoln Land for two semesters, then something happened.
One day I got a call to go into ministry. Can we go back in time for a minute so I can yell at God about this call? Here we go...get ready..and here we are in 1982. “God, what are you thinking? I am going to make some big money, I am going to be rich, have my dream home, design homes for other people, it is what I want. I have all those house plan books, all the magazines, all the drafting tools, this is what I want.” “I am not ministry material.” “Leave me alone.” “Shut up.” “What a stupid idea.”
And now we return to the present. And I didn’t win the argument with God. He is still the God of the whirlwind, the hummingbird, the big Chief, the head cheese, and I am less than nothing.
There is a popular book series called “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff…and it’s all small stuff.” The problem I have with this is not everything is small stuff to the person involved. It is easy for the author to say “Get over it, get past it, let it go, let God” and all those other little catchphrases, but is he standing in my shoes? Is he dealing with the same God that I deal with? Is he hearing this call to ministry? Did he lose his mother recently? Is he stuck in a job he cannot stand, waiting for his house to sell, watching bills accumulate, having things stolen off his porch, dealing with a mortgage company that does not return calls, attempting to help others while your own world crumbles? No. This pompus jackweed is living off the residuals from his best selling book, knowing that he can continue to belch out trite little mini-blessing books and everyone will just love them. "Oh thank you, mister optimism, I feel all shiny and happy now." And then he can spew out more cutesy little books with pithy little sayings that are supposed to help us climb out of this pit of anguish that we live in. Well, it isn’t working Mr. "Don't Sweat It". He can take his books out of the Wal-Marts and Borders tomorrow because I am not buying “pithy” crap again. I need a book called “Sweat it up big boy, because you know you’re going to be doing a lot of it so you might as well get really good at it.”
Do we have something we need to share? Or is that it then? Richard Gere says this is how people end up, when the estate has been settled, and all the paperwork is complete, all they can muster is ""is that it then?" Is our life over with two simple pages of our will? And really, do we want to be remembered for our stuff?
Peter Walsh is probably not well-known, but he is a cleaner, and one of the stars of a show called “Clean Sweep” on TLC. The premise of the show is simple, homeowners ask the show’s team to come in and help them clean, usually two rooms that look like tornadoes have went through them. There are piles made in the backyard, one for keeping items, one for items to sell, and one to throw out. After the couples are done separating their accumulated junk, Peter comes out. He looks at their keep pile and then informs them that it has to be made even smaller. He is annoying, headstrong, and usually gets his way. One of his key points is “Our stuff should never define who we are.” And the keep pile becomes smaller, the sell and throw away piles grow bigger. People begin to notice that they are defined by who they are, not what they own.
After mom died, I really noticed that she was not about her stuff. The china cabinet, her prized possession, was not so important to me after she died. So I sold it, to a dear friend who I knew would care for it. What would be more important is to have my sister back in my life a little less angry, to have my father be happy again, and not so mad at the world, and to have mom back, just so I could talk to her when life starts to bum me out, and it is really starting to bum me out. That is what she was about, her ability to care, to listen, even when her health was not the best, when things were weighing her down, she always had time for anybody.
We come to a place where there is finality. All our past debts need to be zeroed out, we are put in the clear, the books are in the black.. We shall not be mastered, weighed down, by anything. (All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything.) 1 Corinthians 6:12
Things can only get better, and I wish I believed that. But for right now, I long for things to get better. I want to get past it, but I cannot. I want life to be a little more debt free, for our house problems to go away, for my "not the junior senator's wife" to be healthy, for my job to be enjoyable again, for the crock to show back up on our porch, for God to be more present in the my life, for the "junior senator's" son to find his center, for bills to go away, and for my friends to all be happy so I have something to aspire to. I want to be more like my mom, I want to care about others and stop worrying so much about my problems, but right now I cannot. I want to get to that place of finality. And soon.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Calm down, LOSER
"Bored, anonymous, pathetic bloggers who lie annoy me" Sarah Palin
Poor Sarah is angry about so many things these days. I refer to it as "I need to stay in the spotlight" syndrome.
You lost, get over it, go back to watching Russia for us. We need you to be on the job, guarding our Bering Strait borders. I could care less who your baby daddy is, about your teenage daughter being pregnant, having a baby, or anything else remotely associated with your family.
Go away.
Now that I got that off my chest...
Today is another big day in Illinois politics. First, you should go to the mental floss website and play the "Illinois politican or Sorprano character" quiz. How timely. Second, today is the day that our "innocent" governor comes to Springfield. He will sneak into the Capitol, probably around 11:50, and probably through the south dock, with his entourage of security, or as I like to call them, human bullet proof vests, and will sneak or slime his way up to the Senate floor.
There is something awesome about being in control of the men and women who will soon cause your downfall, even if it is only for a few minutes. You are kind of like a god, only no one worships you or leaves sacrifices at your feet, except of course for Roland Burris.
So then, after he leaves, then we can flip over and listen to the House impeach him for the second time this month. His only sister-in-law, Deb Mell, or as she will soon be called by her colleagues, Patty Lite, may vote for his impeachment. I look for her to be in the bathroom, or on a cruise, during the crucial vote. If she does vote for impeachment, will Rod and Patty still accept her free lunches? Will Rod drag out a group of sisters-in-law to make some lame point?
And what will he do today to embarass us even more? My guess, he will tell the Senate how much he loves them, how they have tried to fight with him against the evil House, and then he may cartwheel his way up the aisle, stopping to shake some hands, kiss some babies, get clocked by Senator Watson.
that would be so cool.
Only because I totally respect Senator Watson and know he could do it. Take him out, Frank, knock him to ground, and I run your campaign for governor for free.
Poor Sarah is angry about so many things these days. I refer to it as "I need to stay in the spotlight" syndrome.
You lost, get over it, go back to watching Russia for us. We need you to be on the job, guarding our Bering Strait borders. I could care less who your baby daddy is, about your teenage daughter being pregnant, having a baby, or anything else remotely associated with your family.
Go away.
Now that I got that off my chest...
Today is another big day in Illinois politics. First, you should go to the mental floss website and play the "Illinois politican or Sorprano character" quiz. How timely. Second, today is the day that our "innocent" governor comes to Springfield. He will sneak into the Capitol, probably around 11:50, and probably through the south dock, with his entourage of security, or as I like to call them, human bullet proof vests, and will sneak or slime his way up to the Senate floor.
There is something awesome about being in control of the men and women who will soon cause your downfall, even if it is only for a few minutes. You are kind of like a god, only no one worships you or leaves sacrifices at your feet, except of course for Roland Burris.
So then, after he leaves, then we can flip over and listen to the House impeach him for the second time this month. His only sister-in-law, Deb Mell, or as she will soon be called by her colleagues, Patty Lite, may vote for his impeachment. I look for her to be in the bathroom, or on a cruise, during the crucial vote. If she does vote for impeachment, will Rod and Patty still accept her free lunches? Will Rod drag out a group of sisters-in-law to make some lame point?
And what will he do today to embarass us even more? My guess, he will tell the Senate how much he loves them, how they have tried to fight with him against the evil House, and then he may cartwheel his way up the aisle, stopping to shake some hands, kiss some babies, get clocked by Senator Watson.
that would be so cool.
Only because I totally respect Senator Watson and know he could do it. Take him out, Frank, knock him to ground, and I run your campaign for governor for free.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
As to the name, blago innocence project. I would not be surprised to hear our esteemed hairdo, err governor, proclaim that some small innocence project from some less than prestigious university, had taken on his case.
i decided to start writing this blog because I write for a living, sometimes actually writing stuff that matters.
People ask me what I do for a living, and when I say I write resolutions for the Illinois House and Senate, their next question is "what's a resolution?"
And then I explain death, task force, congratulatory, and the other assorted resolutions to them.
And then I tell them that occasionally these resolutions do make a difference.
Like the infamous Horand Von Merblick resolution, welcoming a three year old police dog to the community of Westchester. Or the one congratulating second or third place teams in state championships. (We used to call them losers when I was a kid, now we give them resolutions)
But I do good once in a while. Like the death resolution for State Representative Wyvetter Younge, a truly concerned State rep that I really liked. Or the retirement resolutions for the Capitol Nurse or Sue Staley. I think I do good on occasion.
Stick around for more.
and remember...I am not the junior senator from Illinois.
i decided to start writing this blog because I write for a living, sometimes actually writing stuff that matters.
People ask me what I do for a living, and when I say I write resolutions for the Illinois House and Senate, their next question is "what's a resolution?"
And then I explain death, task force, congratulatory, and the other assorted resolutions to them.
And then I tell them that occasionally these resolutions do make a difference.
Like the infamous Horand Von Merblick resolution, welcoming a three year old police dog to the community of Westchester. Or the one congratulating second or third place teams in state championships. (We used to call them losers when I was a kid, now we give them resolutions)
But I do good once in a while. Like the death resolution for State Representative Wyvetter Younge, a truly concerned State rep that I really liked. Or the retirement resolutions for the Capitol Nurse or Sue Staley. I think I do good on occasion.
Stick around for more.
and remember...I am not the junior senator from Illinois.
Here is blog Number one. Of course, I dont for a minute believe the infamous governor of Illinois is innocent, but it seemed pithy for a moment.
Come back and read when you can. I promise to keep it up. And to behave, unless I start talking about religion, politics, that place where I used to teach (hereafter referred to as Netherworld), or the scumdog that stole our crock.
Come back and read when you can. I promise to keep it up. And to behave, unless I start talking about religion, politics, that place where I used to teach (hereafter referred to as Netherworld), or the scumdog that stole our crock.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
