As we gave the nice lady taking tickets our stubs, she saw my shirt & said, “ohhhhh! You’re him.”

ME: “Hmmm. Who me? I’m who?”

LADY: “You’re the guy from the football team. The coach. The Nevada man.”

ME: “Uh, no. I’m not a football coach. I do have a Nevada polo, but that’s about it.”

LADY: “Oh, I know you people have to say such things in public, but I KNOW its you. You’re him.”

ME: “I’m not the football coach for Nevada. I promise.”

LADY: “You must be an assistant then. I can tell. You’re him!”

By this point, a line had formed behind me, drawing curiously (and uncomfortably I might add) close to hear just WHO the nice lady was talking to. TheWeez & iDoey were amused.

I just wanted to get my buttery popcorn & sit in the dark theater, eating to my hearts content. But the nice lady wasn’t going to let it go. So I said:

ME: “Ok. You’re right. You got me. I’m him.”

LADY: “I KNEW it! See (to everyone in the line) I KNEW it. It’s HIM!”

I thought that would be the end of it, but no…

LADY: “Soooo. Why did you kick that guy off the team?”

I knew she was talking about THIS STORY because I’d come across it earlier in the week. So I recapped what I’d read, and told her, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

My kids thought it was hilarious.

I have several stories from when I was under sedation… Perhaps I’ll share one sometime.

I remember vaguely, like it was a dream, that I talked during the procedure, but I don’t know what I said. Of course, I wondered if I had scandalized the very nice & sweet dental assistant due to the fact that my Oh So Powerful Thought & Word Filter was inoperative due to the amount & type of medication that I’d been given.

When I went into the office yesterday for my checkup, I asked her, wincingly, if I’d been untoward or off in my comments. She only smiled & said, ‘You like football. A lot. And I know more about the 49ers because of you than I ever wanted to know.” Dr. Pete asked, “You remember ANYTHING from the procedure?” And I said, “Nope.” And the two of them, Dr. & assistant, just smiled at me.

Great.

So say we all.

So Friday was a blur of activity. Took theGiant table upstairs, & then tackled the floors. Vacuumed the tile (so as not to stir up a bunch of dust,) then mopped it. Twice. Using Fabuloso, which, I might add, is one of the best smelling cleaning products in the world. Not that I am a regular sniffer of cleaning products… which would be weird. And potentially damaging to the currently functioning brain cells. But it is wonderful. And purple, which is definitely a plus.

Now, I don’t have any illusions about thePasty being my ‘baby.’ Just my firstborn. Now 18 years old. With 18 years of random memories & life lived that kept flashing back & forth in & through my mind & heart. A few of them…

I stopped & pondered… allowed the rush of images, feelings, thoughts, & memories to flood my brain. I wept. Laughed. And resumed cleaning.

Saturday, the time for graduation came. We found our way through the frantic-ness of Lawlor Events Center, stumbled up the aisles to the balcony seats, & watched the ceremony. Our boy’s name was called; he shook the principal’s hand, went to the top of the steps of the stage & raised his arms in the air & let out a “Whoo!”

It was the same kind of “Whoo!” that we’d grown used to hearing from the football field during the pregame when the team would storm the sideline & jump around, bouncing into each other. I realized the comfort that I’d taken in hearing Pasty’s exuberant yells. And I smiled. And yelled my own “Whoo!”

Just listened to a really thought provoking message on the Book of Job & addressing ‘suffering’ – John Goldingay, Professor of Old Testament at Fuller Theological Seminary… great accent too.

TheBean & I are getting ready to go on a double date with Matty & Nikki C… headed to the Tide for wings & a frosty beverage to combat the blistering sun & to quench a king’s thirst… as soon as she gets home… I’m not a fan of waiting-age.

Is it time for football season yet?

It cracks me up when theBean moves stuff from one room to another. And back again. And forth. Once upon a long time ago, I may have even tried to understand it, but mere mortals like myself can’t hope to comprehend the greatness & genius of such masters of design & arrangement.

I think its a shame that home field advantage for the World Series is decided by the outcome of the All-Star game. If THEY are going to insist on continuing this (& according to Bud Selig, they are,) then a couple rules about the All-Star game should be done away with, like:

There’s more, but that would be a start. Now, if baseball would just adopt the same rules for both leagues, that would be fantastic…

Self-cooling socks would be a great invention.

We are officially running late for our double date…

I am content. Ahhh.

I was jerked from my book world with the calling of my name. My son was walking towards me, holding his right hand with his left, gingerly… like when he was small & had an owie… I (calmly) ran over to him to see what was up – well, it turns out that what was up was he had taken a bad hop grounder off of the tip of his middle finger… and it was bleeding…

Upon closer examination & in conferring with one of his coaches, I could see that his fingernail was sitting at a 45 degree angle… & that there seemed to be something wrong with the end of his finger… but we couldn’t see it through the blood.

I’m solo at the game, glad I’m there, but now wrestling with the fact that now I have to parent, & to make tough decisions. No panic. Banish worry. Be calm. Pray for peace.

We have to go to the ER, just in case this is more than just a busted nail. Which hospital?

My mind raced… called our insurance carrier in the car… driving towards the nearest hospital with a hope that I wouldn’t have to pass it by & go somewhere else. Didn’t. Hoped for an empty waiting room. Yes.

Went through triage, (can’t see anything because of the blood,) & saw a doctor within 1 hour (a personal record for me & mine for ER trips.) X-rays. Answers.

The tip of the finger is broken off (open distal phalanx fracture) & bone is protruding from the fingertip, through the flesh. Dr. wants a game plan.

Clean it. Stitches. Reset. Split. More Xrays.

Everything went according to the game plan. Thank you Jesus.

Next up, due to the severity of the break, we’re off to a hand specialist to see if surgery will be required to repair the finger. Unknown.

Today, I sit at my desk, a card table in my room really, & ponder the thoughts that flood my mind, & fight for attention. The feeling of powerlessness that washes over me watching my son in pain, lots of pain. Worry about the unknown: will it heal right? WIll he need surgery? What will it cost?

I think back upon the ride over to the game, where we prayed for him for peace. Confidence. Strength. Thinking it was for the baseball game. Revisiting the hours in the ER where he recalled our prayer & laughed at the irony of how our evening ended up, & that the answers to prayer looked a lot different than him trying to hit a baseball.

Facing my own fears. Inadequacies. Powerlessness. But not living or acting out according to how I feel or how things seem to be… rather, trusting & choosing to trust that God is in control, & is near. Not that He’s ever far, but the sense of His being “WITH” us is tangible.

Thought about it for a minute & answered: “Nope. But I’m not complaining. Let’s enjoy it while its here…” And we are.

Made it to & through Convention/Connection unscathed. Convicted. Challenged. Loved by friends & fam. Blessed with a surprise trip to Disneyland, my favorite place to go ever (right next to minor-league baseball parks…) But unscathed. Maybe a little larger in the soul. I’m believing for it.

Just passed the time of year when I’d normally be in Frankfurt for my Spring visit to our sister church – this year’s visit will have to wait until November. I’m missing friends.

Don’t know if its all the sitting last week that aggravated a stiff back, or something else… but I’ve been having intermittent back spasms up & down since last Friday. No buono… Which is why I go see Dr. G, & then things feel better. Less twisty, that’s for sure.

I don’t have a map. Or a blueprint. Lost them a few years ago, back in the days when I was a lot smarter than I am now, & knew what I was going to do & how I was going to do it. Got reminded of that last week.

By the way… don’t tell my 3 kids – It only looks like I’m winging this whole “dad” thing because… I am.

Jesus! Help me!

In the next few days, I’ll be painting over a mural that has got painted in my office in April 2000. Its time for change. I’m thinking a Tolkien theme. Or at least, I am going to hang my now homeless (room-less?) LOTR posters… because they can’t stay where they are now. Sorry Frodo. Sam. Strider. But now you get to be with me in my office.

Either my feet are growing, or my shoes are shrinking.

I ate at The Cheesecake Factory 4 times while in Anaheim. Man, I can get used to that place, esp. the Godiva Chocolate Cheesecake. I dreamt about it last night. Truly.

On that note, I heard a rumor that the Reno/Sparks area (Scheels) will get one of those if the shops in the area can boost their annual sales to Cheesecake Factory standards. Oh please, oh please.

Reading through my Complete Jewish Bible, musing through Mishlei/Proverbs, pondering 17:17

A friend shows his friendship at all times – it is for adversity that {such} a brother is born.

The longer I live, the more I realize my need for friends – real friends who will stick with me, through thick & thin, in spite of my issues, who love me enough to tell me the truth & not just blow smoke…

When I think about the sufferings of Christ, the first thing that comes to mind is His suffering leading up to the cross – being scourged by the Roman soldiers, beaten with sticks & fists, forcibly being fitted with a crown of Jerusalem thorns… & finally being nailed to the cross.

But Jesus’ suffering wasn’t limited to the cross… in doing a little digging, you can see that His suffering was something that was experienced in every area of life. I re-read Isaiah 53 the well known prophecy about the ‘suffering servant’, a passage that foretold the suffering of Christ on the cross. However, something else in the passage caught my eye:

My servant grew up in the LORD’S presence like a tender green shoot, sprouting from a root in dry and sterile ground. There was nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance, nothing to attract us to him. He was despised and rejected—a man of sorrows, acquainted with bitterest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way when he went by. He was despised, and we did not care. vv2,3

He was despised and rejected? Acquainted with the bitterest grief? I dug some more – & read through the gospels doing a word search for “rejection” & “suffering” – what I found was:

Other thoughts race through my mind – Jesus’ family thought He was crazy, out of His mind, & came to Him while He was teaching in order to “put Him away…”

After pouring His life out for 3 years to His disciples, one of them, Judas Iscariot, betrays Him to the Jewish leaders/Roman soldiers for 30 pieces of silver, the going price for an ox. An ox! The Son of God sold for the price of livestock. On top of that, when He was arrested, every one of His disciples ran away from Him, abandoning Him. Worse, when confronted with the opportunity to be associated with Jesus, Simon Peter denied that he even knew Jesus, 3 separate times. To a servant girl.

I want to know Christ & the power of His resurrection & the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like Him in His death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead… Philippians 3:10

He wants to know Christ – even if… WHEN it means the sharing of the same sufferings Christ endured.

Later, Peter, the same Peter who betrayed Jesus Christ, writes to Christ-followers going through life’s wringer, saying:

Do not be surprised at the fiery trial taking place – to test you– as though something strange were happening to you. Instead, rejoice as you are sharing Christ’s sufferings, so you may be glad & shout for joy when His glory is revealed. If you are rejected & hated for the name of Christ, you are blessed because the spirit of glory, which is the Spirit of God, is resting on you… if you suffer as a Christ-follower, rejoice, because you bear His name…

The rejection & suffering that Christ endured went far beyond the cross – & often came at the hands of those He knew best, those closest to Him – His family & the people in His hometown.

It gives me great courage & encouragement, peace & faith, to know that Christ endured this type of rejection as well, being hated, & reviled, abandoned, & denied… & He endured to the end, through it all, & gives us an example to follow – one filled with grace, healing, restoration, & life.

Rejection hurts -& we’re promised suffering if/since we follow Christ… yet in the middle of all of it, God gives us grace to endure; to persevere. To bring glory to Him.

Looking back on it, I think it was that my perception, my reality, my lens for looking at me & my life situations was skewed, like a carnival mirror. Where the image that is reflected is distorted, inaccurate, yet just as painful to observe. And remember.

So I stopped looking the mirror… but I could still remember what I “looked” like – the distorted images of me, the twisted outlook on life. My reality. Which remained, until my mirror was replaced…

And I looked into it again.

#2 son has been asking a lot of questions about my brother Johnny – wanting to know him, reconstruct his likes/dislikes, experience the personality of the one uncle that he knows only through pictures, a few home videos, & the stories of those who knew him. A part of Johnny’s story involves his battle with cancer – & UCSF is where almost 5% of his life was lived – for treatment, recovery, & the like. And #2 son wants to know this place – & as difficult as it is for me to go there, with the painful memories, sorrow, & loss… we’re going.

I don’t want to choose negativity, to speak words of ‘reality,’ death, nitpickiness, complaint, slander, criticism, harshness, destruction – over & about me or others. I think that I’m finding that a person will find just what it is that is looked for. And if my lens is negative, down, destructive, ‘reality based,’ I will find those things – & think on them. Talk about them. Spread the cloud of negativity like a flu-virus in the wintertime spreads.

I’m challenged to take on a new lens, one that almost feels forced, like a new pair of glasses that have never been worn, all the while knowing that the new glasses are the right prescription, & they fit like they should – but I’m so used to ill-fitting, poorly prescribed glasses that the real deal, the good ones don’t seem right. Its upside down, & I want to be right side up.

The new lens is to look to enjoy life’s relationships – rather than to pick them apart as inadequate, to place blame where its due -instead to be a radical extender of grace, esp. where it’s not ‘deserved’… as if I have deserved it ever? To look for joy instead of sorrow – to hope & to be filled with hope, even when the ‘track record’ tells me otherwise. To have faith, to believe against all odds that the One I serve really is able to move mountains. To perform what He says. To rescue. To deliverer. To transform.

Maybe this makes me an optimist. A deny-er of so-called reality… So be it. And my answer to you is:

Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things – trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia…. [W]e’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Puddleglum – The Silver Chair, from The Chronicles of Narnia

Here’s to looking for Overland.

Maybe it was because Disneyland is/was such a happy memory for all of us – one of our favorite places on earth to go together & spend time & build shared memories. Perhaps it was the Mickey Mouse pancakes that we ate at the River Belle Terrace… (which, by the way, my dad could make better & more of, for cheaper… :)

When Johnny got sick, drawing Mickey was a miniature vacation, I think, for him & for us. Throughout the illness & treatment, Mickey (along with baseball cards,) remained a way to escape the reality of what was going on, if just for a few minutes.

And one of the things he liked, was Mickey. And when Mickey Mouse is around, it doesn’t seem like my brother is so far away, & it gives me hope for the time when we’ll be reunited.

Last Saturday, I got a Mickey tattoo on my left shoulder blade – because it reminds me of my brother, John Leavy Locke.