Do I look Christian?

I was recently told by an acquaintance that I was one of the coolest Christians he ever met. The phrase he said that caught my ear most was that I don’t act like a Christian. I was flattered and bemused all at the same time. I mean, what exactly does a Christian look like? With this being election time, the media is overflowing with Republican candidates vying for the presidential nomination. And everyday the media has a field day pointing out the “less than Christian” behavior displayed by each and every candidate. I could list examples but I’ll let you do your own research on that one. It won’t take too much effort.

Another friend makes it abundantly clear that the bible is a work of fiction. She has a huge disdain for Christians for their judgmental behavior, their hypocritical actions and the scandalous nature of the church. She can produce, in my opinion, very valid arguments as to why being a Christian is akin to being a lying, cheating politician. Which, again, as we have seen in the news recently, is not too much a stretch to believe. The recent debates showed grown adults professing to be exemplary models of righteousness while using all their effort to trash their opponents. Classic schoolyard mentality.

So what does a Christian look like? If it looks like a presidential candidate, then I am grateful to not look like one. And I could care less if you’re Mormon, Baptist, Catholic, or Hindu, Muslim or Buddhist.  If that is the best behavior that your faith can provide, I respectfully decline an invitation to your dinner table.

I’ll be honest, I have certain images that come to mind when I think of the term “Christian” based on what I have been exposed to. I mean, I am a Christian. Many friends of mine are Christian and they do not resemble any of the aforementioned behavior. And overall this is the majority of whom I know as Christians. Just a group of good people that try to do the best that they can to live each day as best as possible.

But even I conjure up images of Bible thumpers and end-of-world doomsayers who protest abortion clinics, gays and anything that does not look exactly like themselves. And please spare me from telling me what the bible says about anything I wrote. Number one, I know what the bible says. I actually read it. Number two, I’ve seen too may people, both Christian and non-Christian use the bible as a means to their own ends.  This book has been debated for over 2000 years. I’d like to assume that if there was a clear answer, we would all have agreed to it by now. If you have all the answers, run for office. On second thought......

I am Christian. But I also like loud, in your face, rock-n-roll. I like things that explode. I cuss. I laugh at fart jokes. I am convinced that Jesus has a great sense of humor. I’ll bet He even asked Peter to pull his finger! Look at when He had Peter walk jump out the boat! Test of faith or practical joke? Ok, kidding a bit on that last one. I speed like a maniac when I drive, which is why you will never see a fish on the back of my car. I drink. I enjoy a good buzz once in awhile. I did quit smoking several years ago. I’m human. Fallible. Perfectly imperfect.

So I ask my friends and even my enemies. Do I look like a Christian? Or maybe I should ask you what do you think a Christian should look like? And on behalf of us who cringe every time a politician places one hand on a bible and the other jerking you off, well, you’re not alone. That’s the black sheep of the family we’re too embarrassed to acknowledge. Kinda like Randy Quaid in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. But why do we keep voting them into office? And if they are the epitome of what a Christian looks like, I'm putting myself up for adoption!

Jesus and the pot roast

I thought about titling this blog “How to Win Friends and Influence People” but I guess there are some potential copyright issues there. So instead, I’ll title it “How to Spark Controversy and Inflame both sides of the Political Coin in a Single Blog!”  or “How to Make Yourself an Outcast while living in the Bible Belt.” This promises to be one of those train wreck conversations akin to speaking about politics or religion in a bar. Or as evil and sinister as those Best-buy commercials where those “docile” housewives torment and torture Santa Claus. That’s as heartless as dropping slugs into the Salvation Army bucket. I mean, how sadistic can you get? But seeing that the Mayan Calendar says that the world will be coming to an end next year, let me throw caution to the wind!

I recently came across a conversation repeated on Facebook that pondered the following statement:

"Speaking only about CHRISTMAS - what is the reasoning behind the atheists and agnostics who celebrate this particular holiday? Why would you celebrate the birthday of someone who doesn't exist to you? If you don't believe in CHRIST - then take down your tree, lights and other symbols of Christmas and practice what you preach! And don't say Christmas is about Santa, it was NEVER about Santa, it was about having FAITH in something you can't see - GOD!"

Now again, I emphasize that I am reprinting this post. Worse yet, I am doing so without permission of the person that wrote it. But who wrote it is a moot point. What I am most interested in, and I hope you will agree, is that there is a huge difference between faith and “blind” faith. What do you believe and why do you believe it?

Here is a story that helps illustrate what I am trying to explain. I delight you in the infamous “Pot Roast” story:

A newly married couple was beginning their first Sunday meal preparation. The young woman began preparing a wonderful roast of beef while the man was preparing the vegetables. As they worked, the man noticed that the wife sliced off both ends of the roast and then rolled it in spiced flour. Curious, he asked, “Why did you do that?” “Do what?” “Slice the ends off the roast,” he responded, “Does that make it juicier or something?”
“Well, I don’t really know. Mom always does that when she cooks a roast.” So they called her mother and were amused to hear that she also didn’t know why the ends should be cut off the roast. It turns out it was because “your Grandmother always did that and so I do too.” Of course they called Grandmother and heard a hearty laugh when they asked her “why do we always cut the ends off the roast of beef before cooking it?” After Grandmother got control of her laughter, she exclaimed, “I can’t believe you guys are doing that! The only reason I did that was to get the roast to fit in the pan!”

So what does a pot roast have to do with Christmas? Nothing unless it’s on the table for dinner! It does illustrate what I have experienced in myself and others, of how we do things, not out of original thought, but repetitive action.  But what first got my attention was an assumption that “Christmas” trees and lights are somehow biblically based. Now considering that Jesus was Jewish, I was assume there would be a dreidel and a menorah, but I digress. This is a small example of what I have experienced during my tenure as a Christian as to misperceptions of faith. Why do we celebrate Christmas? Is the birthday of Jesus actually on December 25^th? What does any of this have to do with lights and trees and five golden rings?

I am sad to say that I have seen many Christians following a tradition as opposed to a genuine faith of heart. I have seen many devoted Sunday attendees going to the same church that their parents and grandparents went to – only for that reason. That’s where their family always went. So what are we celebrating and why do we celebrate it?

As I continued to read responses to this post, I was saddened to see that many Christians vigorously defend this to be the celebration of the birth of Christ without being aware that the tree we decorate has it’s historical roots (some pun intended) based in a pagan ritual.  Or to remember that Jesus himself is Jewish and is also a historical figure in both Jewish and Muslim teachings. Again, defend what you believe but also know what you believe in! Don’t fall victim to ignorance, regardless of your spiritual beliefs.

Slavery in America was biblically based. The crusades were biblically based. The Klu Klux Klan is biblically based. Hitler was acting out on his religious beliefs, founded in a Christian faith. Yet Gandhi was not a Christian but believed in Jesus and His message of love. His holiness, the Dalai Lama, acknowledges the significance of the teachings of Jesus. The Qur’an speaks of Jesus being a prophet sent by God.

And I found also in the course of this conversation that many who professed to be atheists or non-Christian knew more about Christ than some Christians themselves. I honestly felt I could have a more enriching conversation with the "outsiders" than with some of my fellow followers of Christ, based on the well stated historical lessons on the history of Christmas they offered.

Now wisdom and ignorance takes on all shapes and sizes. And I certainly do not claim that non-Christians know more about God than Christians. But I do cringe anytime a Christian offers up words of confrontation towards anyone with an opposing point of view. And I fully understand why so many non-Christians are put off by the pious behavior exhibited by some Christians. I’ve heard it said that Christians do more to damage their own reputation than any outside force ever will. Look at how many denominations there are here in America, who vigorously argue who is right in their view of scripture? Or what of Catholics and Protestants in Ireland killing each other over belief?

Christians need not fear other beliefs because we’re too busy not knowing what to believe about ourselves! We still haven’t learned how to simply love each other. And if Christians cannot love other Christians, how the hell do you expect to shine a light to someone who doubts the sincerity of what a Christian believes? Or even accurately knows? Again, defend your belief but KNOW what and why you believe.

So as I pull the pin on this theological hand grenade, awaiting the explosion of responses let me close by professing my own ignorance. I look back on a time where I was right simply because I was a Christian. Period. I got more caught up in the politics than the love. So I do not claim to have knowledge cornered by any means. I have two ears and one mouth. I try to listen twice and speak once. And I am amazed when I actually learn something positive from a view other than my own. I am a student, always learning. As I believe we all are. But I think that regardless of whatever our faith may be, we can all benefit more loving, listening and learning.

Anyhow, I wish you a non-judgmental, politically correct, inoffensive wishes of good tidings during this final month of 2011.

A Lonely Christmas

While Christmas can be a festive time of year where friends and family gather to celebrate good tidings, for some, it can be a very depressing and lonely season. Instead of festive garland, some are hanging a black wreath on their door. And while no time is a good time to morn the loss of a loved one, to be assaulted by Christmas carols while grieving can tear a soul apart.

I have a few intimate friends that are mourning the loss of family. Two are each missing a father, one a husband. To say that I understand what they are going through would be a lie, as I have not lost anyone intimately in quite a while. I cannot feel their pain. And even if I did, no words I could offer would ever ease the emptiness of being able to turn to the deceased, call out their name, expecting an answer. Now the only answer they hear is a deafening silence echoing inside a lonely heart.

I am also aware of friends with loved ones in hospice, some of which are desperately hoping to see one last smile on Christmas day. A heartfelt prayer for one more breath, one more day, one more holiday together. Or others are walking on faith that those serving overseas, defending our country, will return home soon with open arms and not in a flag draped casket.

It can be torturous to hear “Joy to the World” when your own world has skipped a beat. When Merry Christmas just isn’t quite so merry.

As a friend, I want nothing more than to take away the pain. But I also realize that this can be a selfish request. Doing so would almost negate the importance of those passed. No, the pain helps remind us of the love they give to us. Love that should never be taken lightly. Love that has shaped us and brought out the very best in who we are.

I am a person of faith. I can speak truthfully of God’s love for us all. I can speak with certainty that those that have gone home before us are indeed festive and pain free. And I like to believe, that if given a chance, they would each reach out to us to say how beautiful everything is. They would tell us not to cry and that everything is all right.

But when you’re alone, you’re alone. A heartbreak, ANY heartbreak, is a soul suffering thing. You can have friends and family to help you through, to be sure. But no one knows your own heart like you do. And no one will have those memories that only you alone have. Which can make it even harder to have anybody understand what you feel. Again, no time is a good time for heartache. But the cold winter air and shortened days lacking sunlight add a smothering blanket to an already grey time.

I write of this for my friends in need, trying to say in my own obtuse way that I think of you constantly and will do whatever I can to be the best friend possible to you. Even if that means giving you the space you need to just work through it all. I write this for those of us who are blessed with abundance to be aware of those in need of a friend and suffering any loss. This can be a loved one, a marriage, a job or even a pet. We may not be able to make someone joyful with the fact that Santa Claus is coming to town, but we can always show our love to them and be there whenever they need us. After all, this holiday was based on the ultimate gift of love given to all of us. Seems a simple enough example to follow.

Of course, we should have the right to inflict severe pain to anyone playing Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmas Time”. Justifiable Homicide, I say!

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Jonah Mowry

I’m one of many who recently came across the video from a young man named Jonah Mowry who spoke out about the sadness in his life. Well, not “spoke” so much as shared his thoughts via queue-cards like Bob Dylan in "Subterranean Homesick Blues" or INXS in "Mediate". Regardless of the format, the message came across loud and clear. And as in most cases, the questions and blaming will probably take precedence over what the very simple bottom line is. Do you know what it is?

Well, let’s cover the unanswerable questions first:

·       Is he Gay?

·       How could he know of suicide or cutting in second grade?

·       Where were his parents?

·       Where were his teachers?

·       Where were the authorities?

·       Where was the church?

·       Why didn’t anyone stop the bullies?

·       Where was God?

Now how about the ONE question that everyone can answer. Where was the unconditional love? The unconditional love that Jesus spoke about in “The Greatest Commandment” in Matthew 22:34-40. That love exists in each and every single one of us. But we have a tendency to fail in offering this love because we ask one of those questions listed above instead of just simply offering love. The love of Jesus. And this love of Jesus has no boundaries. It is not confined to a religion (thank God!). The love of Jesus is intended to be offered, nay, freely given to everyone around us. You can be a Christian and give the love of Jesus. You can be Muslim and offer the love of Jesus. You can be Atheist, Buddhist, Hindi or Hebrew. You can be German, Chinese, African or American Indian to offer the love of Jesus. You can be gay or straight and offer the love of Jesus.

Does offering love require a background check? Does offering love demand credentials? Does offering love insist that you understand the recipient? Does it cost you money to love unconditionally? Maybe it does, as this being the holiday season. I am curious to know how many of our Christmas gift lists were based on deservedness as opposed to need of love. The bigger the present, the grander the love, yes? Our retailers and our stock market are counting on that kind of love.

But in the end, a bigger present does nothing for someone like Jonah Mowry who feels more at ease when he takes a blade to his skin then being around people whose self-loathing becomes abusing the weak like him.

And we fail when we are not there for the likes of Jonah to simply show him the love of Jesus, not the politics of religion. Can you not feel a small part of yourself die when you try to rationalize why you didn’t have time to love a little more? But we still have time, don’t we?

We do, until we are gathered at the funeral of one who’s cries fell on deaf ears and we find ourselves asking that other unanswerable question – WHY?

Warning! Reading this with your own brain may cause damage!

My sarcastic side finds delightful irony in the fact that I am writing a blog about the failure in communication today. Once upon a time, a letter written to a friend was revered as a keepsake to be cherished, even passed on to generations. In July, I sent off letters to various acquaintances. As of this moment, I have had no response. Maybe they’re still crossing over on the Mayflower.

Busy times, we live in. Yes, they are. I seem to hear more about my friends going-on’s through Facebook or Twitter than from their own lips. One friend recently asked, “Where have you been?” after I had taken a hiatus from social networking. Hmmm. Where have I been? I have been at the same address, phone number and email that I have been for years. I must have missed that voice mail or text message where you reached out to me.

The common excuse I get is speaking of how busy they have been. Really? We have a massive ad campaign going on about the consequences of texting while driving. What exactly were you “so busy” doing? You were texting somebody before the car crash!

I can’t hear anyone, anymore because the noise is deafening! I don’t call or text when I drive because I love to drive. It is my therapy. I usually get my best writing ideas while cruising down the highway. And my BMW 528i is a great therapist in which to deal with whatever I may be suffering.

By the way, there is no blog or therapy group that replaces the loneliness of suffering.  If friends, good wishes or even prayers were all that are needed to relieve suffering, safe to say someone would have marketed it for their own good at this point. Yes, I am sorry to say that my cynical side tends to seek out our arterial motives, especially in the guise of helping others. After all, the nuclear bomb was started with the best of intentions.

Suffering is the necessary bleeding our bodies do to keep the poisons from seeping into our veins. And no one can do blood-letting for you. But again, we appear too busy to reach out and speak directly to a friend about that which bothers us.

Of-uttered phrases like “I’ll keep you in my prayers” sometimes carry the same weight of “the check is in the mail.” We say such things so as not appear odious. It also seems to be a way we offer an “instant” prayer, the same way we shoot off a text message.

Social networking is now our microwavable portion of friendship. I see a wide variety of “instant” quotes that people post on their walls. Apparently, they only have enough time to borrow someone else’s words instead of creating their own. I can certainly attest that spellcheck has caused my writing skills to deteriorate. Why should I remember how to spell when the computer will do it for me? Of course, we all have seen humorous results of failure to look at the content of what we write. I pray better care goes into a love letter.

Real conversation has disappeared. I am now convinced that I can copy and paste and entire conversation from someone else’s quote page! Hmmm, I might just do that for my next blog! Why be original when I can ride on someone’s coattails?

But now we are so busy that I cannot express my own emotions? Like I need another voice inside my head? As Edmund Burke stated: “All that's necessary for the forces of evil to win in the world is for enough good men to do nothing.” Well, we’re off to a great start. Someone pass me the remote control…..

Wisdom beyond your ears....

I'm a professional bachelor. Been practicing for over 25 years now. So I joke to my friends that I am quantified expert on matters such as child-rearing and how to maintain a happy marriage. You know the old maxim (no, not the magazine you goober! Looking at those girls probably got you in trouble with your wife in the first place!), the old saying "Those who can do. Those who can't, teach!"

So I have declared myself a veritable genius on kids and spouses. And I have come to discover that it is relatively easy to get some "hands on" proficiency by simply spending a day at a local shopping mall or Wal-Mart. After all, social gatherings will not provide you with the same "essance" a couple displays compared to watch their hunting and gathering techniques! Middle East peace negotiations are easier settled than potato chip selections! Imagine this conversation:

Man: "Honey, I want the Jay's potato chips."

Woman: "You can't have those. They're bad for you!"

Man: "What do you mean they're bad for me?"

Woman: "They raise your cholesterol. You could have a heart attack and die!"

Man: (Thinking to himself) "What makes you think I want to live longer???"

Of course, nothing says "I love you" than holding her purse in the lingerie section. And nothing says "weirdo" like getting caught trying on her slip!

Ah well, on to less important matters. I'm still recovering from my surgery, which requires me to wear a colostomy bag for the duration. True fact: The manufacturer of the bag is Hollister! I feel very hip! Now if I could just get a pair of shoes to match the bag.....

Speaking of being hip, I now feel very urban since I can imitate all the hip-hop moves done on the recent Wal-Mart commercials. So get outta my grill, ya'all!

Recovering from surgery has afforded me with lots of time to indulge in “57 channels and nothing on” ala Bruce Springsteen. I seldom watch tv. “Reality” shows seem nothing of the sort. They tend to sicken me with the self-indulgent behavior and “woe-is-me, I’m rich-n-stupid” whining. Living near Gary IN, the daily news is lavish with “real” stories of life’s shortfalls. Murders, fatal accidents, political corruption. Now I pay a cable company for the privilege! 

I find it difficult to understand why anyone would want “tune-out” by watching another’s misery. Or stupidity, for that matter. If I were to spend an hour watching the foibles of someone with a serious handicap for entertainment, I’d be a sick, sadistic jerk. So I find it sarcastically humorous that betterment in life can be achieved by simply watching the “Kardashians” or OCC, where Paul Sr & Jr duke it out. It would not take much thread for me to weave a connection between our tv habits and recent tragedies of school bullying.

Yea, yea, I know. It’s all a choice. I choose what to watch. I choose what I read. And I choose what I do about it. Still, I do wonder. I can isolate myself in my house, yet the outside air still seeps in. Maybe I should switch to the Hallmark channel?

Too Much Tv

Hello everyone,

I've been long in doing any writing. I went in for a surgical procedure on Thursday and I am still recovering. Now through the magic of cable television, I get to enjoy all the latest "As Seen On TV" products I could ever want. Since I had surgery on my abdomen, I cannot begin to describe the excitement I feel knowing that there are so many products available to help me in my recovery! For example, since I am bed-ridden, I feel so much safer getting up to walk around wearing my Brightfeet slippers! I now have headlights on my toes! And if someone should break into my home, I can flash the high-beams and run them off the road! Of course, as the lenses fade, I will need the Headlamp Polishing kit to keep those beams a shinin bright!

But wait! There's more! I need to do physical therapy to get myself back in shape. I can use the Slim Away Girdle! Just imagine. I can now make myself look like a piece of sausage and suffocate myself! But I do need day-time apparel, so I ordered a pair of the Pajama Jeans! One ass fits all!

There simply needs to be a law preventing me from looking at all this while under heavy medication. This is as bad as drunk Facebooking! Gotta love that hangover feeling of waking up, looking at your computer keyboard, awash in last night's tequila. I never knew I could get a lime to stick to the monitor!
Of course, I'm not so sure about some of these ads for midgets and farm animals.....
And now, all my FaceBook friends have been replaced with Russian men in blond wigs. Scary!

Wow! I joined a lot of political affiliations! I'm standing up for rights that I never knew existed! Ah, Jose Quervo, you are a friend of mine!

Well, time for bed. I look forward to writing more soon. And tell Greenpeace, the Republican Party & Lesbian Poodle Breeders that I am sorry for offending anyone! After all, I blame it on the drugs, not my stupidity! :) HICCUP!

Like I'm a four-year old

In the movie “Philadelphia” starring Tom Hanks & Denzel Washington comes a quote that I have used as a silent mantra for most of my life. “Now explain it to me like I’m a four-year old.” You see, I find myself in an unrelenting pursuit, a life-long high-speed car chase towards answers. Ironically, some answers to questions I know full well I will not receive on “this side of the coin.”

But I pursue, nonetheless, like a dog chasing it’s own tail. Somehow I have convinced myself that I am special and will get a glimpse of eternity that far better theologians ever have. I am naïve enough to think that I may get a glimpse of God even better than Moses himself. Although, seeing that my friends look at me strangely enough now, I shudder to think what their reaction would be if I were suddenly glowing like the sun as Moses did when meeting The Big Man.

God is big. Really big. I mean, He is as wide as the east is to the west. I mean, a few seconds ago in our human understanding on the world, we thought it was flat and that boats would fall off the edge of the earth. How are we to assume we can understand God if we cannot understand the very world we live in?

 Now, stop for a moment and think of listening in to a serious conversation about the matter. Picture if you will a ship that sails off to sea, never to return. A storm has sunk the ship and the crew is lost.

John: Did you hear about Captain James?

David: No, what happened?

John: They set of a’sailin. Fell off the edge of the earth.

David: What kinda fools go off thinkin they would not fall off the edge?

John: I know. The goobers.

Flash forward to today, a few seconds later. Substitute some of these phrases to help show how far we have advanced:

(On the invention of the locomotive): “People will suffocate because of a lack of oxygen when traveling more than thirty mile per hour.”

Rock-n-Roll is satanic and should be banned.

AIDS can be spread on a toilet seat.

My, oh my, how we have advanced over the years. Foolish questions then are replaced with new and improved foolish questions. But you must admire our resilience. We keep moving forward, keep reaching out to the unknown. And this is a good thing. Simply think of advancements in medical science. No more doctors notes to school saying “Billy cannot go to school because he has a blood-letting.” or “Sally will be having a hole drilled in her head today to reduce swelling.” I myself, will be benefiting greatly from progress in surgical techniques by undergoing a procedure, called a Ileoanal anastomosis, which was impossible a mere fifty years ago. Cancer was one time a death certainty. But today, we have greater hope than ever before of surviving.

But we do tend to place a stigma on certain diseases or social statuses. And this can be traced back to biblical times. Leprosy is the oft-repeated phrase in scripture used to describe a disease. But it was also used to convey our paranoia, our bias and our fear of the unknown in how we treated those affected. With disdain & contempt. Imagine if you will, someone comes to you, cancerous. No hope for survival. You do your very best to bring love, comfort and compassion to them. Now replace “cancer” with “AIDS”. Where do your thoughts take you?

Now imagine you have contracted AIDS through a transfusion. You are now shunned by many. You are now the “leper”. Imagine the rejection, the loathing by others. In your weakened state, you care not about what you have but only that you get help, get better or most of all, be loved by someone.

So when I see the pain, the suffering, the hatred, the unfairness of the world, I cry out for answers. I demand, like Job, an audience with God Himself. And I find that I want it explained to me “like a four-year old.” I want answers to questions. Ironically, if I were to actually hear them from God, my head would explode from His bigness. Like giving intellect to an ant, my physical form cannot handle such power. I would better survive a tornado or hurricane than the voice of God.

Yet I pursue these questions with all my might. Why? Should I not just simply be content and accept that these answers I seek are out of my reach? Why do I not accept that there are things I simply cannot understand?

I guess it is because in the depths of my heart, my soul, I KNOW there is more out there than what meets the eye. I see scientific wonders of God’s brilliance all around me. He shows Himself to me in the mysteries of Quantum Physics and Black Holes. I wonder if He delights in our explorations with the same fervor a parent does when their own child discovers this world through fresh eyes. Eyes not jaded by pain and sorrow and despair. I hope that God looks at our reaching as a desire to appreciate all that He has created. I hope He delights in how we pursue Him relentlessly. I hope that discontentment amongst us all, allows us to make God more visible to those that have lost that child-like awe and wonder.

God said His name is “I Am”. As a four-year old, it was all the explanation I needed. Somewhere along the way, I refused to believe that answer was enough and I tool my own bite of the apple. Like my forefathers, I have regretted my choice. I now ask questions of a four-year old to adults around me. And more often than not, I don’t like the answers. I find that with each question, I keep asking “Why?”

Why does the color of your skin matter?

Why do religions fight each other?

Why do so many people go hungry?

How long do I keep asking why?

Someone please explain it to me, like I’m a four-year old.

You don't look sick?

There seems to be a unspoken understanding that Sunday is a day of renewal, where the chaos of the previous week is laid to rest. Sunday is an ode to the childhood mantra of "Do-Over". One feels a sense of relief that the previous week is over and eager anticipation towards the new. Whatever failed before is no longer a worry. A new day excitedly invites you to participate with joy! Even if it's raining, one can say that the rain is washing away the old to let in the new. A baptism of sorts. So let us climb aboard a new ship called "The Future" and sail uncharted waters into adventures you have never known. Yea, the seas may look familiar but you if you look at them with tales of where you have been, you will surely miss out on hidden treasures waiting to be discovered. Enjoy! Explore! Live with purpose.

My upcoming week involves having a surgical procedure done to cure a long standing issue. I have a condition known as Ulcerative Colitis. I have had this for about 20 years and aside from the occasional flare-up's, I have been able to maintain a "normal" lifestyle with medications. That is, until this year. It is so ironic that as you get older, things have a tendency to stop working. In April, I started having acute attacks that sapped most of my strength and led me to my pending surgery.

For those that are not aware, Ulcerative Colitis or "UC" is in the same family as Crohn's disease which is another type of Inflammatory Bowel Disease. Over the years of having UC, the challenge of the disease has been two-fold. The physical symptoms I suffer during a attack include frequent bowel movements, intestinal bleeding and extreme fatigue. But just trying to describe the physical symptoms belittles a true understanding of the hell those of us with UC or Crohn's are actually going through. A common phrase uttered either aloud or through the eyes of someone you are trying to describe your condition to is "You don't look sick?" Those of you that have this or another malady with no outwardly visible signs know exactly what I mean. You almost get the feeling that those you explain this to think you are making it up just to gain sympathy. In some ways, I wished at times I could tell people that I had cancer. Everybody knows what cancer is. You say you have cancer. They say "I understand" and the matter is done. You say you have UC. They look at you with a quizzical stare that continues even after you explain what UC is.

And the physical symptoms I described earlier don't give honesty to what is really taking place. To say "I go to the bathroom a lot" makes it sound like UC is just a inconvenience. Nothing could be further from the truth. Imagine having a 30-second window in order to even find a bathroom. Otherwise you can plan on taking a shower and putting your soiled clothes in the laundry. Now imagine this happening 20 - 25 times a day.  Now imagine each time you are bent over with cramping and convulsions that take you to the edge of passing out. Imagine the very food you eat to provide you sustenance is creating pain akin to giving birth or passing kidney stones. Again, 20-25 times a day. Oh, and you're bleeding too! You're anemic from the blood loss.

For myself, just when I didn't think it could get much worse, I started having severe incontinence issues. I could not hold, control or regulate when I would go. My body decided for itself. Not fun! The worse episode for me was my first day at a new job. I arrived in the parking lot only to soil myself in the car. No change of clothes. No way to clean myself up. In shame and embarrassment, I turned around and went back home. I didn't even bother to call the employer to explain because I assumed they would give me that same blank, quizzical stare when I tried to explain what UC is. Why bother? The problem was not going away. Medications were not helping. How could I even work if I have to run full speed to the bathroom every ten minutes?

Then there is the mental duress. Very much a double edged sword for the UC or Crohn's sufferer. Because an attack can be brought on by STRESS!!! Great. What do I have to worry about? How about almost EVERYTHING! Where is the nearest bathroom? I have to eat but eating will hurt me. You now become a prisoner in your own home. Solitary confinement. And if you have family with you, they are equally burdened by wanting to ease your pain and suffering but unable to do so. As is the case with any ailing family member.

I write this not to draw attention to myself. After all, I can think of much more enjoyable ways to do so and not mention my bowel movements (insert sarcasm font). I do this to help anyone that has UC or Crohn's or ANY non-famous illness that "You don't LOOK sick" when you are very sick. It's so hard having someone who can understand what you're going through other than another sufferer. Thankfully, you now have the web that offers a vast amount of education, support groups and blogs to find others on common ground. My advice. USE THEM! For myself, nothing worse than being a prisoner in your own psyche.  You are not alone in your suffering. Reach out for support from those that understand.

I have been fortunate, nay, extremely blessed to have a wonderful family to tolerate me as I learn to humble myself and accept that I cannot do or fix everything on my own. That is the strongest point I can impart onto you. Whatever trial you are facing, do not do it alone. We, as God's children, were never meant to be without family, without connection to one another. And God, I have discovered, will even allow illness if it brings about compassion, tenderness & closeness. As John Donne said, "No man is an island." 

So I approach my new week with a trust and faith that my ills will soon be relieved and I will be able to return to a normalcy that I have not had for a long time. I pray for good health for all of us. But I also pray for abundant love even when good health is absent. 

Dear God

I enjoy music with a passion. As a child, I wanted nothing more than to be Paul Stanley of KISS. And after watching a few episodes of “Gene Simmons: Family Jewels” I now am glad that I picked the Starchild over the God of Thunder. As a child, the importance of music was a very simple equation. Was it loud? Did it look cool? Does it drive my parents crazy?!? YEESSSS!!! After all, isn’t that the point of rock-n-roll? Rebellion! Down with authority!

As I continued to add on years to my never-ending childhood, I came to appreciate intelligently written lyrics of a well-crafted song. Anyone that could convey big meaning with few words was (and still is) a hero to me. It’s always a treat when any artist, be it music, fiction or non-fiction stories, poetry, or theatre can speak a universal truth and make it sound new and exciting. After all, look at the endless attempts to speak of love throughout the centuries from such greats as Shakespeare, Dickinson, and Justin Bieber!

And anytime a song’s lyrics can still quicken the pulse and create a universal fist pump with primordial rage, then I say “Rebel Yell! MORE, MORE, MORE!!” A great specimen of angst is when John Mellencamp croons: “I fight authority, authority always wins.” It’s kind of a mantra for me. I’ve been told to never question authority yet many a time I have found authority highly questionable. How ironic! How expected. After all, we have doubts for Area 51, the Kennedy assassination, and the accuracy of Miss Cleo’s psychic hotline.

But what about when you question the Authority of authorities? What about questioning God Himself? Certain facets of the Christian faith have made it clear that this is a no-no! “I’m sorry. You have crossed the distinguished boundaries set forth by the wise and esteemed whom have been spoken to by God Himself. You are now to suffer repeated lashings by the Penguin from the Blues Brothers.”

In my day to day living, I am walking a constant line of dichotomy between seeing all the beauty God has created and all the insanity people inflict on it.  Ya gotta love multi-media for constant bombardment of “If it bleeds, it leads.” So you start asking God things like “Hey! Where the hell are you at?” I have no doubt that you can recall an exact moment when you asked the very same question yourself.

In music, it is a reoccurring theme. One of my favorite examples of spiritual anguish is in a song by the group XTC, titled simply “Dear God.” Now I do want to point out that my interpretations of this song are strictly that. MY interpretation. I do not express nor claim to know what, Andy Partridge’s (the writer) spiritual beliefs are. But I am grateful for the beauty I find in the music, regardless. Hey! There’s an idea! Appreciating an individual for themselves and not judging them for having a dissimilar point of view! You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one….

In the song, the star is having a conversation with the Deity. Andy’s lyrics start out like many of us may do in prayer. We do a sort of bartering process. “I have these things I have asked for but I’ll gladly ignore those for something else.” Sound familiar? Not quite the same promises you make if you have been hugging a toilet after a partying binge but close! Time wears on and your prayers have no apparent resolution. Our belief, our trust begins to fade. Hope withers like a dying flower. And usually this kind of prayer is similar to asking your parents for an advance on your allowance. You’re just not quite sure if the bad stuff in your past will be thrown back in your face. “No money for you! You didn’t clean your room!” Shame on you! Performance by guilt! Gotta love it!

Then after what feels like an eternity of silence, we start to step up our requests. We create a better argument for why our prayer should be answered. Something along the line of “Hey! You’re God! I believe in you. I know you can make this all better. This is not like You. Why are You being so unfair?” The deterioration of belief continues.

What the song covers next is something akin to that same child being denied an allowance. In short, a temper tantrum. Depending the situation, some even walk away from God, doubting that He ever existed at all. At this point, we begin to feel the rage, the anger, and the betrayal of being denied what we asked for so sincerely.  We ask if this religious crap is just that. A bunch of lies told to us by would-be authority figures as a way to keep us in control. I’ll let the lyrics tell the story for a bit:

I won't believe in Heaven and Hell,

No saints, no sinners, no devil as well,

No pearly gates, no thorny crown.

You're always lettin' us humans down.

The wars you bring, the babes you drown,

Those lost at sea and never found.

And it's the same the whole world 'round,

The hurt I see helps to compound

The Father, Son and Holy Ghost

Is just somebody's unholy hoax.

And if you're up there, you perceive

That my heart's here upon my sleeve.

If there's one thing I don't believe in...It's you, Dear God.

         One could say that the victim of the song is utterly fed up and completely walking away forever. But I would also like to think that maybe another point of view is that of a jaded lover, jilted by the disappointment. Imagine if you will, an argument with your significant other. Has your every argument always had words uttered in haste, firmly anchored in truth? Maybe it’s all a matter of furious yelling in order to get the anger out. Primal scream therapy. Incidentally, this song was banned by the BBC at the time of it’s release. Andy Partridge (who is a English citizen) received a vast amount of hate mail from the US regarding the song, which questions who does not like questioning authority.

         For myself, I do question authority. I do so on a daily basis. I believe in God with all my heart, but I sure don’t understand the Man’s plan all the time. And a simple walk through Psalms will show the same outcries for help and demands for justice as well. So I see that I am not alone in my questioning. I am following a long line of many who ask why. But what worries me the most are those that don’t ask the questions. Either they have a lot of answers they are not sharing or a lot of questions and are too afraid to ask. Because someone let them believe you don’t question Authority.

Oh, and that whole “O’clock” thang…this is what I found: “O' Clock comes from "of the clock", or "of the hour". So chill, til the next episode.

God:  The most popular scapegoat for our sins.  ~Mark Twain

People see God every day, they just don't recognize him.  ~Pearl Bailey

One, two, three.....

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one,

I was told that good writers will make it a point to write a thousand words every day. Okay, lemme see, where was I? Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine, seventy

Ya know what sucks? You can’t just drag and extend the words to automatically be continuous like you can with actual numbers in an Excel spreadsheet! Fortunately, there is a word count at the bottom of the page to help me keep my place! So let’s continue. One hundred twenty, one hundred twenty-one, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-three, one hundred twenty-four, one hundred twenty-five, one hundred twenty-six, one hundred twenty-seven, one hundred twenty-eight, one hundred twenty-nine………

WAIT!!!!!!! We have a major problem!!!!!! Do you realize that “one hundred twenty-five” is FOUR words!!!! So even if I type one thousand words, I will end up being over by a ratio of four to one! Damn! Okay, I have no idea what to do now. I mean, I flunked algebra in high school. Which has a central bearing as to why I prefer to be a writer as opposed to an engineer. Of course, I would like to be an engineer. I love trains! But the numbers do me in every time. It’s a wonder I have never been audited on my income tax filings. I guess 1040-EZ was totally designed for EB!

So Halloween is coming, in case you weren’t aware. Warning! Overweight men will be dressing up in spandex attempting to pretend they are Spiderman or Wolverine! Fashion Police, be ready to issue citations!

Speaking of Halloween, have you seen the Snickers candy commercial with the two kids dressed up in a old lady costume hanging out in the candy isle? Am I the only one that thinks this rates as seriously creepy? First, the way the kids reach out and stroke the “What the hell is this ugly creature doing touching me?” shopper’s face screams of Chester the Molester! Second, I know I am not the only one that sees this hideous costume resembling a cross between a reject from “Where the Wild Things Are” and a cracked-out, Od’d leftover from Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”! Now that’s scary! And to think someone gets paid for coming up with those ideas. Or even worse, someone was stupid enough to buy such an idea….Hmmm, wait! I have a new career path to pursue!

Four hundred forty-four, four hundred forty-five, four hundred forty-six, four hundred forty-seven, four hundred forty-eight, four hundred forty-nine, four hundred fifty! So I am actually totally lost on how many words I have written. Have wrote or have written? Is this a classic case of tomato, tomato? Hmm, I just now realized that tomato, tomato loses something in written form. And besides, the Word proofreader says it’s “Have Written”, just for the record. But the good news is I am now over the halfway mark!

I guess if I follow the format I am doing right now, writer’s block should never be an issue. I mean, how can you justify not having anything to write about if all you write about is wondering if you have written the right amount? OUCH! I thing I just sprained my brain. Kinda like when you eat ice cream too fast.

I’ll be going into the hospital soon for a surgery, but not to have my tonsils taken out. I wonder if they will still give me ice cream? Oh well, either way, I know I will get plenty of time to practice on a thousand words a day. I will be big and strong by the time I am released. Then look out world! Stand back, Dave Barry! There’s a new kid in town! (By the way, I think I should not use abbreviated words like “there’s” or I’m” because in the end I am just cheating myself out of words.

Six hundred eighty-five, six hundred eighty-five, six hundred eighty-six, six hundred eighty-seven, six hundred eighty-eight, six hundred eighty-nine, six hundred seventy. Whew! I’m getting thirsty! I need a drink. Maybe I’ll get one of those Monster energy drinks. By the way, why do I see so many cars with a Monster logo sticker on it? Is this some sort of sponsorship? Are these cars making money by brandishing the fantastic Monster logo? If so, this is a good thing because some of the cars I have seen could really use the money! Kinda like some shoppers at Wal-Mart could really use some fashion advice. Speaking of fashion trends, isn’t interesting to see that both Marc Anthony & J-Lo are introducing their own clothing lines? Was this part of the divorce settlement? Or worse, was this written into the prenuptials? Marc gets the house, J-Lo gets a Fiat and you both must sell cheap clothing to the masses!

Eight hundred forty-one, eight hundred forty-two,  eight hundred forty-three, eight hundred forty-four, eight hundred forty-five, eight hundred forty-six, eight hundred forty-seven, eight hundred forty-eight, eight hundred forty-nine, eight hundred fifty. Yea, this ain’t as easy as it looks! But what the heck else am I to do? I mean, this is what you get when you have insomnia at one o’clock in the morning and can’t fall to sleep?

Well, as I look at the word count, I only have eighty words to go. Wait! Seventy-five, seventy-four, seventy three, seventy two. Hey! If I don’t use the dash between words, I double my word count! Kick ass!

So I guess these exercises are pretty helpful! I feel so much more relaxed now. Glad I passed on the energy drink or else I’d be awake for the rest of the night….or morning, since technically it’s now two-o’clock. And for my next blog, I will discover what the “o” means in “o’clock”! Good morning!  

“I am deliberate and afraid of nothing.” – Audre Lorde. So go out today and be deliberate. Be someone wonderful. Be someone who others look at and say “I wish I had what they have!” Go do one act of kindness to a stranger. Live life, don’t let life live you! Drop me a comment and tell me of your good deed for the day.