Your 100 Day Prayer

Unlike other books on prayer, Your 100 Day Prayer places less emphasis on the content of prayer and more on the process of consistent prayer. It encourages the Christian to spend just a few moments a day, every day, for 100 days consistently and intentionally praying about the same issue. This process is transformative in shifting the focus from the immediate to the eternal perspective. It’s a great lesson in learning to wait…wait…wait for the answer.

The book is structured like a devotional journal; therefore, some readers may prefer a hardcopy book that can be written in rather than an eBook. Each day’s lesson consists of a scripture, a devotional reading and a jumping off point for prayer.

The scriptures and devotional shine different perspectives on the issue being prayed for. It’s these different perspectives, together with the consistency of returning to prayer again and again that begins to reshape the content and process of the prayers. In the journal area, the reader can reflect each day on his/her progress.

The one thing I wish I’d taken onboard earlier, is the author’s suggestion to use it together with a group of other people as it’s “hard to keep on praying by ourselves for something every day for any length of time.”

Your 100 Day Prayer was provided to me as an advanced reading copy by BookSneeze.

Another one nearing her expiration date

Cat is nearing her expiration date. I already wrote her story long ago so I don't need to write it again.

These last months have been very hard on both of us. Her kidneys are failing so she gets subQ fluids and lots of pills. She doesn't like it. I was a coward about the subQ at first. It took me a week, 3 tries and a vicious jab to my own finger before I could get it started. Ultimately I was able to overcome the squeamishness by deciding that it was actually loving to make my girl more comfortable.

This time, there's not as much guilt to go with the grief. I haven't cheaped out on vet care. I've done my best. I haven't taken care of her perfectly, but I've done okay.

The places I suspect I'll miss her most is in her permanent spot on the side of my bed. I'll miss her when I take a bath, sitting by the tub and begging me to dribble water from my hands while she drinks. Many times I've wanted to push her away and just relax in the bath...but I don't because I don't want the guilt.

I notice more and more that her eyes are dialated. I think that means pain. She eats but she's thin. She still wants to be petted and she shoves her muzzle into my belly.

We're going to the vet again on Monday for bloodwork and Dr. Saltzer's opnion. Shit.

It might be easier if I believed that animals went to heaven. That God loved them as innocents and collected them in the same way he collects and resurrects little babies. I know I won't care when I get to heaven, but oh God, I wish I could have that comfort here.

But today my tears are breaking as hard as the rain is coming down outside my window. Shit oh shit. On March 24, it will be 4 years since Mommie has been gone...and I've forgotten her. I never look for her any more. I never call for her and she was with me for 10 years. And what sucks is that, when I do remember her, I only remember the crappiness of her last month with me--not the 9 1/2 years of petting and cuddles.

It's like with Dad. I remember the horror of the board and care more than I remember all of the walks and laughter. If I didn't have photographs, the good stuff would be long gone.

I can't believe that Jesus would leave heaven to come to this world. Walking around in a decaying bag of meat, in a world perverted by evil and death. I guess that's what love is.

Keeps on giving

Out of nowhere, I miss my daddy tonight.  Almost 50 years old and I miss my daddy.  I miss his smile.  I miss his laughter.  I miss his terrible puns.  I miss his quiet strength. 

Last night, I heard a teenager sob, "I miss my Daddy."  Even though she lost her father to divorce and not death, I understand the depth of her cry.  I see Emerson and Reese, run to their daddy and throw their arms around his legs or stand with him in worship and I miss my my poppy.

Even though he's healed from Parkinson's.  Even though he's with Jesus and a better man than he ever was here with me, I miss him.  Even though Jesus is supposed to be my anchor, I miss my Daddy as the anchor for my life.  Even though Jesus is supposed to be my strong tower, I miss the safety and unconditional love of my earthly father.

He's been gone almost 6 months to the day and the grief tonight is as fresh as it was then.  I understand the Jewish custom of rending their garments and throwing ashes on their heads and keening with grief. The grief is so powerful that it demands physical expression.  Out of nowhere, I miss my Daddy tonight.

Cat and Dog

Who are the trusted?

In 1978, Danny Olsen turned me onto a cool new artist, Elvis Costello. I was cautious at first as Elvis Presley had died the summer before. As a junior in high school, I really, really wasn't interested in an Elvis impersonator.

And yet, Danny was incredible hip. An urbane high school senior with a dynamite smile and the ability to wear Jewish heritage like a crown, he was like catnip to the junior girls. I felt privileged that he would include this shiksa in his group of friends.

Elvis was just breaking big with "Alison," from his first album, "My Aim is True." His music was a big departure from the disco and hair bands that filled the airwaves. After all, "Saturday Night Fever" had taken the radio by storm in 1977 and young adults were doing the hustle in discotheques from Danceteria in New York to Osco's in Los Angeles.

And yet, Elvis rocked our world when he played our Millikan High School auditorium. It was my first taste of New Wave and I wanted more. Instead of the glib, glitziness of the hair bands and overprocessed techno grind of disco, Elvis' music had a raw energy that summed up the cynicism and angst of teenagers who had grown up a steady diet of Vietnam War casualty lists and the Watergate scandal. The strong men of our generation were sent to die by the politicians whom we trusted.

Although my favorite Elvis Costello album is Get Happy, one of my favorite songs, "What's so Funny About Peace, Love, and Understanding" came from his third album, "Armed Forces."



As Elvis asked, "Where are the strong? Who are the trusted?" I only wished then that I'd known that answer was Jesus because I was wrong in many of the people whom I trusted in my 20's and 30's.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot?

Some vacation time has allowed me to sort through 30+ years of memorabilia--photos, concert ticket stubs, cards, and letters. The hard part is that I'm finding a lot of people whom I loved that have passed out of my life.  Some of them passed out of my life because that's the way life is.  At key junctures, like high school graduation, you take divergent paths and loose touch.

The hardest things to look at are the people I let go from my life because of disappointment or anger...where I purposely severed the relationship.  In some cases, it was unavoidable.  In other cases, I feel like a fool and there's a sense of loss.

As I look at these people from 5, 10, 20, or even 30 years ago, the bad feelings that caused our friendship or romance to hit the rocks is gone.  In the images I see people whom I've loved and who love me.  I realize that I may have cut them out of my life, but I cannot cut them out of my heart--ever.

Do I wish all of them back into my life?  Not really.  Only a couple of them.  But, for the first time ever, I'm willing to let their faces inhabit my walls and my daily life rather than being relegated to a box in my closet. 

I would never regard myself as a sentimental person, and yet, the first present a boy ever gave me--a framed pane of glass etched with flowers--still hangs in my window 33 years later.  Yeah, it's my laundry room window but, still, if I was a bag lady, I'd carry it around in my cart with me. 

I think I cherish these things because I never made a family for myself.  Somehow, I missed that class in college.  So all of this "stuff" is evidence that I've loved and been loved in my life.

My goal this past year has been to work towards getting rid of stuff that I don't use or don't love.  This means that a lot of the photos and cards are getting thrown away.  Some, I'll scan and then toss.  Only the special ones will remain...the people who have changed my life just by passing through it.

Perhaps

Perhaps, if I am very lucky, the feeble efforts of my lifetime wil someday be noticed, and maybe, in some small way, they will be acknowledged as the greatest works of genius ever created by man. - Jack Handey

Things from my office wall: hysteria

Things from my office wall: okay

Rockin' Rythym

Redeeming Corrupted Perfection

As I was scrubbing my kitchen floor today, I was singing worship music when suddenly, a dart hit me right in the heart.  I wept because my tiny Dad experienced physical death. 
As Parkinson's Disease chipped away at his body and mind, I know he prayed for the release of death.  But he'd always hoped that the rapture would come before his body gave out.

I chose not to see my Dad's body after he died.  Parkinson's Disease robbed Dad of his easy smile, quick puns, and baritone laughter.  I truly did not want to see his body without his personality inhabiting it.

Today I grieved, not for the loss of Dad himself, but that he had to experience physical death.  I wonder what it was like for God when his beloved children rebelled and turned the universe inside out.  Did he feel grief like this times a billion billion?  Grief for every living thing that would now experience decay and death?

No wonder why we had to have a supernatural savior and champion!

My eyes are still leaking but I'm trying to remember that Dad is home and safe now.

What would it be like to live in a body that wasn't breaking down and decaying? I can't even imagine it.

Yak!

Finished spinning and plying the yak.  Can't wait until it's dry so I can see how truly soft it is.  I doubt if I even got 50 yards from 1 ounce but it was worth it.

The yak fiber was incredibly soft and dense.  The staple length was almost non-existent--maybe 1 - 1 1/4 inches.  I had to really inch worm along as I drafted the fiber.

It's amazing at how satisfying it is to experiment with a new fiber...to come to the end with a beautiful hank of yarn spun by my own two hands.

Things from my office wall: writer

Spike's Fish House = DoublePlus YUM

Spike's Fish House has opened in the Marketplace at Laguna Niguel and it's total yum.  What's to love:  the focus is on informal dining which lets you can buy good quality seafood for rock bottom prices. 

The menu is fairly simple:  fish + rice + veggies in whatever incarnation you want:  salad, wrap, plate or bowl. Rounding out the menu  two tasty sides:  sweet potato fries, coleslaw.

I went with the soup & sandwich combo which included a good sized bowl of tasty seafood chowder and a half sandwich.  My seafood chowder had big, plentiful chunks of seafood, potatoes, and corn.  My sandwich had 4 ounces of grilled mahi mahi, field greens, and dressing on a toasted garlic roll.  At only $7, it seemed like a screamingly good deal.

If I was feeling a bit more spendy, I could get a seafood plate for ranging from $10 - $14.  At $17, swordfish is the most expensive item on the menu.

The staff was super friendly and my food was prepared very quickly.  This will easily become my go-to place for dinner on the run.

Things from my office wall: office supplies from hell

all through the night

Late last night and early this morning was EPICFest 2--the all night lock in party for the junior high and high school kids at church. 

• They drank sodas, ate candy and popcorn
• We worship together and Eddie taught the Gospel
• We went to cosmic bowling
• We played broomball
• We watched Soul Surfer
• We ate pancakes 

It helped me see into some of the kids and love them more.

When I started working in the Junior High ministry, I promised myself I'd stick with it for 3 months and then decide to stay another 3 months or to throw in the towel.  I started on September 28th.  I wanted to quit on October 28th.  I'm tired today but starting to care about the kids.  I wonder what will happen by December 28th. 

Things from my office wall: punk accountants

Rattled and spun

Today I was a panelist for the crisis intervention training at the Orange County Sheriff's training facility. Normally I just tell my story and go but today was a majorly emotional day.

First, our presentation was recorded by Stephanie O'Neill for a story that will run on NPR. The goal of her story is to raise awareness of the crisis intervention training police officers receive. Second, I got to "reunite" with an officer who changed my life.

One of my storypoints is that, during a period of profound depression, I didn't take care of my truck the way I should--unregistered, uninsured, everything. A police officer stopped me, saw my truck was piled with trash, and he cut me a break. He didn't take my truck. He told me that, if he stopped me again, he would.

That traffic stop was a pivot point for me because I'd tried to walk the road of profound depression alone and it wasn't working. Because of the officer's toughness but fairness, I was forced to get help from my friends and family so I could live and function at a better level.

Even though the officer didn't remember me, I got a change to tell him he changed my life. Stephanie decided to interview him, too. I don't know what will become of it, but I got to tell Officer Toyer that he made a difference to me.

Still, the emotion of the presentation, the interview, and meeting has really left me rattled and spun. I feel like an overloaded circuit.  A piece of me is proud and thrilled.  Another piece of me is really scared that, through the radio show, I'll be much more "outed" than I intended to be.

2012 "Bucket" List

I love to make lists.  But, to me, making a true bucket list is daunting.  It's too much pressure to think of everything I want to do before I kick the bucket and then even more pressure to accomplish all of it.  I guess that, even if it was full of fun items, it would end up feeling like work.

I can make peace with a one year bucket list, but I'm NOT calling them resolutions.  Again, the idea of a resolution seems so formal (liked work) and doesn't allow for a sense of fun or play.

• Learn to shear a sheep.  In 2012, I want either to go to on a shepherding retreat or learn to shear a sheep.  It's one of those things that take my interest in knitting and spinning to their extremes.



• Learn to ride a motorcycle and buy a 250 street bike on or before June 14th.



• SUP in the Standup for the Cure paddleboard event in May.



• Learn to use my rigid heddle loom.  It's been sitting around my house since June.  Even though I took a class, I feel daunted in chosing the right supplies and getting the loom warped.



• Become a certified scrum professional and become part of a coaching circle.



• Play harmonica in front of people.  Maybe not on a stage, but to practice with actual musicians.



• Take a road trip on my way to Portland to see Melinda.



• Go to a workshop on how to be a better youth group leader.  I know I can improve my chops by praying for the kids, studying "ahead" of them, reading Christian living books, and just showing up.  I think I want to go to a workshop to hear other people's experiences...maybe just to hang out with people who share my interest in it (passion for it?).

Punk Rock Girl

Punk Rock Girl was one of the most mainstream punk songs of the 80's.  It's lyrics have stuck with me for decades. Whenever I'm in a truly brain-numbing meeting, I think of "jumping on the table and shouting 'anarchy!'"