As Honest as I Can Be

the day it turned around

2008-10-08T20:30:00.000-07:00

So over the last three weeks Jill and I have been bickering with each other. Some of it has turned out kind of intense and some of it was just over exaggerated differences of opinion. It’s not like there is one fight I can look back on and say “this is the straw that broke and camels back”, but it’s simply been a steady season of conflict. It’s like there was a dark cloud over our household. Serious enough to where I spent hours talking to Israel about marriage and Jill came home with a bill from the counselor. During these seasons we don’t talk much, little things become big things, hugs are like embracing telephone poles, and worst of all, Jill would make a better friend than a lover if you know what I mean. So something changed on Monday…it was pretty dramatic how fast things turned around.

For those of you that don’t know I’ve got the best job in the world where I sell stuff to people. It’s always what I dreamed about doing when I turned 30. It’s awesome. On a more serious note, I do love working with my friend Kenny (aka Israel). It’s what makes the job so manageable. We carpool three days a week and usually spend the thirty minute drive to the dream-killing-cubicle-of-apathy talking about where we want to be. We dream about playing music, moving somewhere different, and starting new adventures. Who knows if it will ever come true but for that short time we trick ourselves into forgetting that we are driving to work at 4:30 in the morning. And let me tell you, morning and I don’t have a good relationship.

Monday morning Israel and I made it to work by 5am and it was time to start assisting our east coast customers. The morning was going really slow so we decided to start looking on craigslist at rental properties in San Diego. We would look at 7 bedroom 5000 sqft mansions and talk about how we could live their and split the rent. (like I said, Israel and I are dreamers) I was finishing up my first sale of the day at 6am when I felt my phone start to vibrate. Nobody is calling me at six in the morning unless it’s something serious. I grabbed my phone and saw Jill on the caller ID. I answered the phone and heard Jill say in a weak voice, “I’m not feeling well.” “What happened Jill?” “Dylan found me on the bathroom floor. I think I scared him…I must have passed out.” Jill didn’t even have the strength to get her own phone…she made Jett run downstairs to get it. I logged out of my computer, grabbed the keys from Israel, and bolted for the door. Kati went over to our house until I got home.

By the time I made it home Jill had regained the strength to make it back to the bed. I spoke to Kati briefly to get an update and then ran up stairs. Jill was curled up in a ball lying on her side. “How are you feeling?” “I’m feeling better now…I’m just a little scared. Will you lie next to me?” I crawled into bed, pulled the sheet over, put my arm around her, and told her that I loved her. Within a few hours Jill was feeling back to normal and to this day we don’t really know what happened that morning. That was the moment everything had turned around.

But it wasn’t what happened at home that made the difference; it’s what happened on the drive home. On the thirty minute drive back I spent the time thinking about all the ways that Jill fulfills me instead of nit picking at the ways I want her change. Instead of picking her apart with my own ideals, I spent time reflecting on the completeness of what makes her beautiful. We might have been fighting over the last three weeks but I realized some things about our marriage. Our love still has the strength to cut through anger. My heart still quivers when my wife is scared. Coming home is always better than going away. And my life is definitely more complete with her than without her. May I have more thirty minute drives home without the threat of loneliness.

I almost got fired

2008-09-13T18:04:00.000-07:00

“Kenny (aka, Israel), some shit went down today. (pause) Bro, I think I almost got myself fired. (pause) Dude I hate it when I feel disrespected…there is nothing worse.” What is it about people in middle management that makes them feel powerful to talk down to the underling? I feel like I’m talking to that Will Ferrell character on SNL that yells, “I am manager of many people, I am a very powerful person and I drive a Dodge Stratus!” I just wanted to scream in this guys face. So if I could go off on this guy, this is what I would say.

There is more to my life than peddling worthless shit to people that they don’t need…but I get it if there isn’t anything more to your life. That is the only reason I can come up with for you to respond to me with such antagonism. Respect is earned, it is not taken. Do you think you are better than the rest of us because your cubicle is in the management area? Do you like it that we have to ask you for lunch breaks? Do you feel strong with your name in the “sales lead” area and not in “sales force”? Well enjoy, my middle management friend. Enjoy the power, enjoy the control, enjoy your royal d**kheadness. The only reason I can think that you would enjoy this so much is because it is the only good thing you have going for you in life. And if that is the best your life has to offer, then get drunk with power my friend because you are destine to party alone.
Okay so maybe not that harsh, but maybe something close like, “please don’t speak to me that way.” It really sucks that everyone knows I was a pastor. Aaaaaahhhhhhh!

I fought “the man” and “the man” won

2008-08-26T00:33:00.000-07:00

I fought “the man” and “the man” won. Today for the first time in five years I started a job. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had jobs…just not a job job. You know the kind of job that has a human resource department, 401k pamphlets, and a security guard that stares at you as if to say “what the hell you lookin at…punk?” I got a badge with my name on a piece of tape…below the name it has the word temporary. I didn’t know if that represented the badge or me, oh the irony. I walked through the security door and saw the mass of people that seemed to fill the room like little worker bees. One guy sipping a cup of coffee. One girl listening to a story then ending it with fake laughter. One guy walking down the hall trying to avoid eye contact with me. This is a whole new world for me.

I make my way to the room filled with new employees. Everyone looks around and sizes each other up. It’s definitely a complete mix of personalities. There is the classic ass kisser, the know-it-all, the over achiever, the slacker, and the completely lost. The question is…which one am I. Probably a solid mixture of all of them. After an hour of new hire jargon they started into our training. Nothing too complicated, just a lot of information. I know this sounds strange but I just felt out of place. It’s like I stepped into the wrong class but didn’t have the courage to walk out and find the right one. The thing is, I’m confident I’ll be successful over the long haul. I won’t be the best but I’ll be better than average. I might even pull employee of the month or something on par. I’ll probably call Jill and be genuinely excited. Then I’ll say something like, “Jill let’s go to Olive Garden to celebrate. (pause) No no, they gave me a 25 dollar gift certificate. I know, it’s good to be the EoM.”

There is nothing wrong with success, nothing wrong with making money, nothing wrong with trying to be a great employee. But for me I found one major draw back. It came to me on my drive home. I was stuck in rush hour and the rain was pouring down. I was thinking about my day and trying to replay the information. I was trying to retain as much as I could. There were cars wall to wall and then it happened. I started to dream. Simple, perfect dreams. Stuff nobody else cares about, but I do. As I sat in my truck I started to get a lump in my throat because it leads to an obvious question. Wasn’t I meant for something more than this? Wasn’t I meant for more than pushing products and up-selling warranties? That is a hard question because maybe I ask with too much pride. Maybe I wasn’t…maybe this is it…that is what makes the lump in my throat so hard to swallow. I have passion but that doesn’t pay the bills. The problem with being a dreamer is that you always see the world the way that it should be and not the way that it is. And when the world tells you the way things are it doesn’t seem fair. I’m forced to be a realist in a dreamer’s body and it doesn’t feel good.

I feel like that girl in the movies. You know the one…it’s the girl that was born in a small town and only knew about country living. One day she caught an image of New York City and became obsessed with the desire to experience this magical way of living. She saw people every where, 24 hour restaurants, and unique fashions she wanted to try on. But you know the story, her parents were too poor and couldn’t afford to send her. In fact her whole community was so poor that nobody ever left that town. Everyone was born there, worked there, and died there. People around her were satisfied with continuing the cycle and didn’t see the need to rock the boat. But not this girl, she never let go of the image. Then one day while working for her parents she came to the conclusion, “I may have to work the fields today and I may have to work the fields tomorrow, but you mark my words, I’m getting the hell out of this town.” And she wasn’t satisfied until it happened. All she ever did was work and save…work and save. The day had finally come and she had all the money she needed. And in dramatic fashion she hops into a rusty beat up truck and starts driving east. The sunset hasn’t yet cleared the horizon but a tear streams down her face. That was the day that the realist became a dreamer. So here is my resolution, I may not have meaning today and I may not find it tomorrow, but someday I’m getting the hell out of this town. Someday my life will mean for something more than this.

Fantasy Camp

2008-08-10T19:09:00.000-07:00

So every year for the last 5 years Israel and I have made our way to a major music festival to do the thing we love…listen to great music. These journeys have bought us to Coachella, Austin City Limits, and Lollapalooza. We have seen amazing acts like John Mayor, Coldplay, The Black Keys, Ben Harper, Muse, Oasis, Keane, Snow Patrol, Pearl Jam, Weezer, Cold War Kids, Buddy Guy, Franz Ferdinand, Tom Petty, Willie Nelson, Death Cab for Cutie, Kanye West, Lupe Fiasco, Radiohead, and Rage Against the Machine. I’m not even mentioning all the lesser known bands that are regulars on my play list. This year we went to Chicago to enjoy the sounds of Radiohead and Rage. I could go on and on about all the great music we heard but nobody wants to hear about that. It’s obvious that the music was going to be epic. People want to know what happened outside the festival.

Israel and I landed in Chicago at about midnight on Thursday. After we turned our phones on we both noticed that we were overwhelmed by text messages from Seth and Adam. It was apparent that they were at a place called Streeters Tavern and having a good time. A train ride, a cab ride, and an hour later Israel and I are standing toe to toe with this basement bar. With our luggage still in hand I look at Israel and say, “I think this is it.” We tip the bouncer 5 bucks to put our luggage in the office and our Chicago experience had officially begun. We didn’t make it home till 4am. I only mention the time because of all four nights that was the earliest time we got home. I’ll be honest and say that my body was not prepared for this kind of voyage. We ate breakfast at 3pm and dinner at 1am. We took showers at midnight preparing to go out and went to sleep when the sun was coming up. Water bottles were not used for drinking but rather as receptacles. One person forgot their credit card at a bar which turned out to be a good thing, one person took at nap at 12:30 am so he would be rested for our 1:30am departure, one person got tackled in the street and lost his phone, and one person woke up saying “guys seriously, tonight, can we turn it down a notch, just one click on the dial, my body can’t handle this.” Well that last guy was me. But I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. These experiences are what make life so colorful.

Coming home is sometimes hard to do. I love taking trips like these with the guys but the truth is…it’s not real life. It’s like a fantasy camp…a fantasy camp for people who love music, going out late, sharing a beer, and being spontaneous. I’ve paid this money not just for music but for the experience. Now that I’m older coming home means something different. Not only do I have an awesome wife waiting for me, I’ve got two kids. One hour after I set my bags down at home, I started to check all my emails. I was interrupted by this scene. My wife has her arms stretched out like wings slightly leaning to the left as she skips around the kitchen island. In a high pitched squeal she says, “No, don’t get me.” About three feet behind is my son wearing a red bandana holding a gray plastic sword. He is flailing it around wildly showing no mercy for the innocent. His animated voice yells out, “You are Peter Pan and I’m a pirate!” This pursuit continues on for another five minutes but in this story the pirate wins. As I watched this scene play out I stopped checking my email. I just sat on the couch with a smile from ear to ear. It was something I couldn’t turn away from. Then I thought to myself, “I left this for Chicago…?” Who needs fantasy camp when I’ve got a real life like this? Coming home is not so hard after all.

Final Essay

2008-07-30T08:37:00.000-07:00

So Sunday was our final service at onePlace. I can honetly say that I'm at peace. But being at peace doesn't mean I'm not broken hearted. This has been such an amazing journey, one that I never would have chosen, but one that I couldn't have lived without. I will probably write more about this community in the future, but I thought that I would start off by sharing my final essay to the church. This was the last one in a series of writings:

I've started writing something three times now, and every time I feel like the words I've written were not good enough. I guess there can only be one reason why…because they aren’t. How do I use words to describe this journey that I’ve had? How do I verbalize how much this church means to me? I don’t think it is possible. When I close my eyes I see a thousand images that make my heart tremble. I see Israel closing his eyes during worship and it looks as if nobody else is in the room except for him and God. I see Jeremiah playing spider bites with my son after the service. I see my wife standing in the back of the room with her arms stretched as wide as they will go and I know that whatever she is saying to God, it’s enough to move mountains. I see the medallion on Maggie’s wrist as she is dedicated to God. I see Errol with one arm around his kids and the other arm to the heavens during worship because old worship songs still make him cry. I see Kevin sitting around a table of community leaders as he lays his beliefs on the line and fights for social change. I see myself at the communion table begging God…broken, raw, and honest saying, “Don’t you dare forget about my wife, she has loved you for too many years. Don’t you let go of her. Not now, not ever.” How do I put these moments of my life into words? It’s not possible.

Three months ago when I closed the service I did something strange and accidental. Sometimes Kevin, Israel, or I would go up after the final worship set and say a closing. It would usually goes something like this, “Thank you for coming tonight. Don’t forget about blah blah blah. We’ll see you next week.” So on this particular Sunday night I decided to do a closing, nothing out of the ordinary, just the same spiel. So I go through the routine and I say, “Thank you for coming tonight. Don’t forget about blah blah blah. We’ll see you next week.” But this time I added in something by accident. I ended with “we’ll see you next week…and…I love you guys.” This was so strange; it was like an accidental…I love you. It wasn’t strange that I said it but that it came out like a reflex. Many pastors will give a benediction at the end of the service. My old pastor used to give a really good one that goes like,
“The Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you, the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”
That is so beautiful but it’s not really me. This moment made me realize that my heart is so closely connected with my community that it only seems natural that my benediction comes out like…I love you. From that day forward, the I love you’s were no accident…my heart knew what it was saying. I thought for my final essay I would write a closing benediction…it may not be a beautiful one, but it’s coming from the real me. So here it goes.

May you lay your fears aside and pursue the things God has called you to with ferocity and persistence. May you tread lightly on the ground God has paved and when your steps get too heavy may God lay you low. May you find truth in the beautifully simple things and may the beautifully simple things make your life full. I pray you smile more often, laugh a little louder, and buy more flowers. And as I have said ten thousand times, may you not see God from afar, that you would not be satisfied with the shadow or silhouette of God. May you fight and struggle to climb the mountain because your heart is not satisfied with anything less than seeing him face to face. May you have many personal encounters with Christ over your lifetime. And it is no accident that I say this, but without a doubt, I love you guys. Thank you for loving me in spite of all my failures. Thank you for all the prayers. Thank you for serving with me. Thank you for the grandest adventure of my life. Thank you for letting me be…your pastor.

Jett is the best medicine

2008-07-16T13:30:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning around 7:30 and my back was aching like mad. Jill says to me, “go make an appointment with Alex, you know he can get you in today.” “Nah, it’s not that bad.” “Mark, why are you so stubborn?” “Ahhhhh……well…….why are you so stubborn?” “Nice come back.” So instead of going to see a chiropractor I decided to lie in bed and bemoan over my discomfort. At 8:00 I decided to lie down and try to relax…I was just feeling tense.

Fifteen minutes later Jett walks up to me and says, “are you going to sleep daddy?” I just nod my head yes. Then he says, “do you want me to snuggle with you?” Again, I nod my head yes. The next thing I know he bolts out of the room and returns about 10 seconds later. Jett grabbed one of the blankets out of the closet and hopped up on the bed. He moved some of the pillows around and put his head close to mine. I asked him, “will you hold my hand?” Jett grabs my left hand with both of his and just lies next to me for the next minute. Then he pops up and says, “oh I forgot something.” Again he bolts out of the room and returns about 10 seconds later. This time he hops up on the bed with nothing in hand. I asked him what he forgot, but he doesn’t say anything. A few moments later Jill walks in the door holding Cadence and she’s, “what did you need Dylan?” He responds with, “come snuggle with me and daddy.” So the four of us laid together and that is how I fell asleep. I woke up 2 hours later with no back pain at all. My conclusion, Jett is the best medicine.

short but sweet

2008-07-02T09:19:00.000-07:00

Here is a short one for you guys.

Jill has been looking for new music to play while she and the kids are driving. She went through our cd case and found a kids sing along cd. She pops it in for some variety. As soon as it comes on, Jett says, "I don't like this music, I want more rock and roll songs." My son is already a music critic and I can't be more proud.

Nole and I came up with a plan to get our kids to form a band and then we can retire off their fame. Little nole on drums (obviously), Cadence on bass (because girls who play bass are awesome), Jett on electric guitar (we've been working on face melting solos as well as stage presence), and Maggie-mooberry-pie on lead vocals (she'll be known as the artist formerly known as "Dramatic Twist") It's going to be epic. I'm just living the dream, man.

Close, But No Cigar

2008-07-01T12:57:00.000-07:00

“it says a five second stream, so don’t short change it.”
“well its not actually in my control”
“I want to make sure the proper amount of hormones get on it”
“alright leave me alone”
(15 seconds later)
“mark, don’t move it”
“just over here where I can see”
(30 seconds later)
“hovering over it won’t make it go any faster”
“jill, I’m not hovering, I’m just looking”
(30 seconds later)
“well, what does it say”
“it says you’re not pregnant”
“see, I told you so”

This morning turned out to be quite a thrill ride. Jett went to swim lessons with a friend and Cadence just laid down for her nap. Jill and I don’t get many opportunities to sit down and just talk without interruption. So we laid on the bed and started to talk about the day ahead. I was secretly hoping that it would lead to other things, wink wink. But instead, while Jill was in mid sentence, she jumps up and says “I’m going to throw up.” I thought, “maybe Jill is not in the mode for ‘other things’”. But my second thought was, “oh shit, Jill only gets like this when she’s prego.” Jill was dry heaving in the bathroom sink and I started yelling, “oh my gosh, you are totally pregnant!” Between heaves Jill mutters out, “no I’m not.” Then I said, “it’s totally obvious, how else do you explain your crazy mood swings…you know over…the last…few…” That was not a good idea. Jill’s face was not amused. “Well that’s not important any more, you’re pregnant!” Within seconds I’m driving down the street to CVS and picking up an EPT test. Well, an EPT test and a burrito from Carl’s Jr. I got home and Jill took the test right away. You know the result.

To be honest with you I’m kind of bummed. The thought of Jill being pregnant is kind of exciting. Well, exciting for me, because I don’t have to deal with carrying extra weight, always being hot, and having uncomfortable sleep. But the idea of celebrating new life at this point in our journey would be fitting. I always felt like our kids came at just the right moment…like God was sending us a special gift when we needed it most. Life is the most amazing thing…more amazing than the changing of seasons, more amazing than the formation of the mountains, more amazing than every star in the sky. Everything we do in life we bare witness to. But in this one special case, God has given to women the ability to create something eternal…that is unmatched in all the world. I never thought I would be this excited about having kids…about being a father. It may not be on this day…but maybe tomorrow.

Two years ago today...

2008-06-19T11:24:00.000-07:00

Two years ago today I watched my baby boy Lincoln take his first breathe. Dylan was delivered by C-section and this was Jill’s first live birth. She was an absolute hero. Her water broke in the middle of the night. She didn’t want to be cooped up in a hospital room for hours so she decided to do most of her labor at home. The goal was to go to the hospital when contractions got close enough. Being that her water broke in the middle of the night, I decided to take a little nap before our big day ahead. Pretty much, I slept all night. I know I know, I can already hear the collective gasp…Jill’s mom was there the whole time. I don’t know if that makes it any better. The contractions were getting closer and closer by early morning. We called our midwife and decided it was time to head to the hospital.

The contractions at home were tickle fights compared to what Jill was experiencing during the drive to the hospital. You could visibly see the difference in Jill’s demeanor. Her brow would wrinkle, each breath seemed to consume her energy, and silence was necessary. As a husband I felt absolutely helpless, my protective instincts wanted to shelter my wife from suffering…but in the end, this was the only way. (side note: Jill opted not to take any drugs…she wanted to deliver naturally) By the time we made it to the hospital, Jill was having severe contractions. They checked her in immediately and the nurse did a preliminary check. The look on our nurse’s face was enough to tell us that we kind of cut it close. She jumps up and gets on the phone right away, “we need a bed now. Yeah…she’s a 10.” For those of you that don’t have kids that means Jill was dilated to 10 cm…that means its time to push.

One hour later I am staring into the eyes of my new baby boy. The idea of having two boys was so exciting. I think of my friend Errol who has two boys pretty close in age. I see the way they laugh and play…how they protect each other…how they make imaginary forts together and then collectively destroy it. These were things I would dream about for my own boys…life, love, laughter, protection, and of course, imaginary forts. All of these thoughts came to a stop the moment Dr. Jenny walked into our room.

Jill was laying on her bed talking to her mom and brother-in-law. The doctor said, “I have something I need to talk to you about, do you want everyone to stay?” My heart sank to the floor and I felt that my life was about to change. I knew it was a moment that we needed alone so we asked everyone to leave the room as the doctor talked to us. Her first words were, “I’m so sorry, I have some bad news.” I don’t remember much after that. After the doctor left the room I crawled into the hospital bed with Jill. Jill was trembling and shaking terribly. We just held each other and cried.

How do you fall in love with someone so deeply after only 18 days? I don’t know. But I can’t deny what my heart feels. Part of Lincoln’s condition was that he had heart problems. During his last day there would be moments when his heart would stop for up to a minute at a time. As you can imagine, this was the worst torture any parent can experience. I told Jill that I didn’t want to hold him much during that last day because I couldn’t deal with the pain of him passing in my arms. Jill completely understood and nurtured him like only Jill could…with tenderness, grace, peace, love, gentleness. I was sleeping on an air mattress in Lincoln’s bedroom when Jill came in. She asked me to hold him for a few minutes while she did something around the house. I cradled his small frame and rested him on my chest. He was such a peaceful person. He rested on me like a blanket, but better. I fell back to sleep within minutes. One hour later I woke up. I looked at my child that was curled in a ball on my chest and realized that sometime during my sleep, he took his last breath. I called for Jill, she came into the room and with quivering lips I said, “I think….” There was no need to finish the statement. She slowly walked over and picked up his fragile body. She sat on the floor rocking back and forth saying, “you’re my baby, you're my baby” over and over again. I just sat next to her…still, silent, and wrecked. It is something I will never forget.

This is the first time in months that I have cried about this moment in my life. Part of me wonders if I’m trying to forget unintentionally…like my subconscious has this protection mechanism. But I don’t think it’s true. There are moments that fade and memories that are lost, it is part of the human mind. But with the simple whisper of his name, my heart and soul feel…and it lays me low. That is something the mind will never forget. I made up a lullaby the day Jett was born and sang it to Lincoln on his birthday as well. It goes:

I know this song
It sings inside my heart
Saying I love you
Saying I love you
Thank you for being my baby boy
Thank you for being my baby boy

I miss him dearly, I will never forget two years ago today.

Regrets

2008-06-12T15:41:00.000-07:00

Last night Miah and Shelly came over for dinner. It was so good to hang out with them. Jill and I did their premarital counseling and we really haven’t had any good quality time since then. They are still together so we figured that was cause to celebrate…and they are in love as well. (a tribute to epic counseling) I’m just kidding around…they are thriving in spite of scattered counseling. They just got back from Europe and we wanted to hear all about it…but we didn’t want to share them with any one else. Jill made chicken with stuffing and Shellamiah brought over chocolate whoopies. (this is my favorite dessert on earth and is also the perfect lead in to the statement, "that's what she said")

We talked about Europe and all the wonderful things they experienced. I saw pictures of huge art installations in the middle of cities, castles that are only seen in movies, and daisies fashioned in Miah’s beard. I heard stories of canoeing down channels and rivers, drinking on roof top bars, hitchhiking in the Alps, sleeping in train stations, and sipping wine at the base of the Eiffel Tower. I was absolutely fascinated by all of it. But nothing got my attention more than all the pictures of art in Shellamiah’s photo album. It was littered with images of art that Shelly and Miah stood face to face with. These are pieces that you see in books and magazines…like Andy Warhol originals and other famous people I don’t know. The thing that captured my attention was not the art itself, but the fact that these two got to have personal experience with something/someone they really respect. Not everyone can say that they have met their heroes. I’m jealous of that.

Later on in the evening the conversation took a left turn. We started to talk about regrets. I asked the question, “what is something from your past that you regret not trying?” I start it off by saying I wish I would have tried playing football in high school. I think I would have really enjoyed it. But my fear of failure was greater than my desire to experience. Jill chimes in and says that she wishes she would have tried doing sports. Most people don’t know this but Jill is a natural athlete. She has a perfect runners build and is naturally lean. During field day in elementary school, she would get first in all events she competed in…but never did anything after that. Maybe Jill is an Olympic athlete in hibernation. Shelly interjects and talks about always having the desire to become a hair stylist. Not just a super cuts stylist, but a “fancy” one. We all go on for about 20 minutes. Then we turn to Jeremiah and say, “what about you?” He responds with, “that’s a great question, I don’t know.” “Really nothing?” “Yah, I don’t know, I’m sorry, I’m really trying to think of something.”

Then it came to me. Maybe that says something about Jeremiah. What would your life look like if you didn’t have regrets of not trying? It really made me think. Jeremiah wasn’t being arrogant by saying he couldn’t think of anything. It was simply a testament to his character, “I guess I always tried.” So I ask myself the question, How would my life be different if I lived more like this? I think I would stop seeing life through books and magazines…I think I would try to meet some of my heroes face to face. Here is my final thought: When I’m old and dying, I think I would rather see my life full of failures than to have never tried…sometimes the most beautiful experiences are found in the wreckage.

i love being a dad

2008-06-08T13:47:00.000-07:00

It's a really long video but you get to see his skills in about the first 30 seconds. This is why he makes me laugh at least once a day. (FYI, this is also his favorite song, I've probably listened to it 100 times...literally)

Jill's Blog entry

2008-05-22T11:20:00.000-07:00

So I've been asking Jill to write a blog entry for about 6 months now. You know the old saying, the squeeky wheel gets the oil. She's finally agreed and this is what she wrote:

Mark has been asking me to do a blog entry forever. I have always told him no because well to be honest I don’t feel like I have a whole lot of interesting things to say. I actually have my own “secret” blog that no one knows about and I write in it every now and again. I like knowing that it is out there but also like knowing that no one that I know is reading it. I think I also don’t want to write because it makes me vulnerable. I am happy to be vulnerable talking to someone one on one…but writing something from my heart for whoever to read that is a bit tougher for me to allow myself to be exposed in that way.

So today I will write and what better to write about than whose blog this is and who I love dearly. Mark and I will be having our 10 year anniversary in a couple weeks (it is crazy to think that we have been married that long). If you have read any of Mark’s other entries you will know that we are not alike in most ways, in fact I would say that we see and experience life in the opposite way of each other. I think the beauty of our relationship is that we are such different people but are daily learning how to love each other in a better way. Allowing the other room to be who we are individually but coming together to support one another as a couple. Don’t get me wrong there have been definite periods of us wanting to force our own will on each other…it’s not easy giving to someone else. It takes sacrifice. The one thing that I do know from our marriage is that God is able to restore and start things new. To love richly.

It was told to us recently that there are people who think our relationship is unhealthy. People who are not apart of our life…just people who look through the window and cast judgment. I know that it shouldn’t bother me but it really does. I know how much Mark loves me and desires to see me be fulfilled in my life. In my life there has never been anyone who has given to me so deeply, challenged my thoughts & expectations of life, given me security, allowed me to be completely vulnerable and has put up with my insecurities & failures. It is the greatest thing to know that you are still loved in spite of all the imperfections and mistakes.

I know that I am loved and cherished. What more do I need. hfu

What to do?

2008-05-20T14:13:00.000-07:00

What to do? Let’s say you have this room in your house that needs to be redecorated. It’s been used as a storage closet for the last couple of years but now it’s time to turn it into something different. You clear out the room, expose the walls, and box up the closet. Now you have this exposed room that is waiting for the masters touch. You stand at the entrance for a few moments and look around…trying to soak it all in. A few minutes go by of pure silence. In your stillness you feel the slight breeze of wind brush at your back. Your spouse has opened the back door letting the sunlight, the breeze and the size 4 shoes of a three-year-old scuttle across the floor. Your spouse sees you standing under the door frame and goes to stand by your side. The two of you stand in collective silence and stare at the empty space. You speak first and say something like, “what do you think we should do?” Your spouse responds, “I’m not sure.” “Well, I was thinking of painting it to something green.” “nah, no green.” “blue?” “nah, no blue.” “how about something in earth tones?” “nah, no earthtones…ohh, I got it, how about turning it into an arcade?” “What?” And then you think, how did my pleasant canvas of a room get turned into an arcade? And in summary…this is what it must be like to be my wife.

Jill and I recently got into a fight that was something similar to this scenario. Although I would love an arcade at my house, that’s not what the fight was really about. The fight was more about “that’s not what I want…well that’s not what I want…where do we go from here.” Well, deep down inside, and I mean deep, just between you and me…I really believe I could talk Jill into doing what I want. I can be a real smooth talking asshole sometimes. I once convinced Jill it was okay for me to buy a motorcycle (Yamaha YZF 600, it was awesome). I even shocked myself with that one. The problem is that I really do want Jill to have all that her heart wishes for. I love her…I love her a lot. But part of what her heart wishes for looks different than what I find desirable. My mind says, give her what she wants…but at the same time I can’t stop my heart from wanting something else. I truly believe that Jill feels the same way. There never was a conclusion to the argument other than, “I’m sorry, I wish I felt different for your sake.” “Me too.”

The problem with this kind of discussion is that nobody is “wrong”. Usually I take my fair share of being erroneous. But with this scenario, no one is to blame. So I go back to the original question, what to do? Honestly I have no answer. The only thing that makes the discussion even reasonable is the fact that we truly love each other. I said these words on my wedding day and I believe them to be true today. It’s from the book of Ruth.
Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay.
Your people will be my people and your God my God.
Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried.
May the Lord deal with me, if anything but death separates you and me

seth runs over israel

2008-05-08T14:50:00.000-07:00

Here is a funny video from our time at A-basin. Israel was going to attempt a jump and never really made it. Seth however was not going to be slowed down by Israel.

Only a one way journey - Happy Birthday Iz (Part 2)

2008-05-08T10:32:00.000-07:00

Part 2
Saturday:
This was the main reason why we drove to Denver. We woke up early morning and headed to Arapahoe Basin for a day of snowboarding. (or A-basin as the locals say) It was the perfect conditions. Weather was in the mid forties and 9 inches of fresh powder over the last couple of days. What more can you ask for in May? Sam ate French toast in the lodge and studied for finals while the three of us tore up the mountain. Probably one of the best boarding days I’ve ever had. I called it quits a little bit early and went to the RV for a shower and nap. An hour later the whole crew was back together. We left the mountain and headed into Denver. We stopped over by the Red Rocks for dinner to meet up with some of Sam’s old friends. This was an interesting experience on many levels. The most intriguing was the fact that all his old friends are hard core republicans. This didn’t go over well when Sam unzipped his jacket and revealed an Arizonans for Obama t-shirt. It was quite humorous, well at least three of us were laughing, sorry Sam.

We drove into downtown Denver looking for a place to park the Majestic, that is the name of our RV. We drove in circles for hours looking for the right spot. First we were going to park on a street with no meters until we noticed all the broken glass on the ground. Yeah, it was from all the broken windows, that’s not a good sign. Then we were going to park at an abandoned building. It looked safe enough but we feared being towed. Finally Sam talked to a security guard about finding a safe place to park and he recommends the empty lot behind the building he is watching. We’re all grateful for the advise and drive to this empty lot. We negotiate through a really tight alley, remember I’m driving a huge RV in downtown Denver. We make it to this back lot and Seth is laughing, “I don’t know man, it looks kind of shady.” Shady is an understatement. There is graffiti everywhere, abandoned cars, broken dog kennels, and a chain link fence that somebody took a wire cutter to. We were all pretty frustrated but couldn’t help but laugh, it was all part of the experience. At last we decided to check out Union Station right off of 16th street. We had to pay 14 dollars to park but it was well worth it. The spot was even better than we thought…starbucks across the street, directly on 16th street, and much safer.

Sunday:
Sunday was the most laid back of all the days. Sam and I were the first to wake up. We walked over to Starbucks to get some coffee to go. We brought it back to the RV where we busted out the lawn chairs and just shared stories for about an hour. We woke the other guys up and walked to a breakfast spot right in downtown. The original plan was to rent scooters but all the places were closed. Instead Sam decided to go to the rockies game which was only four blocks away. And the rest of us went to Cinco De Mayo festival at the capitol. It kind of sucked but there was one highlight.

The three of us were sitting down eating lunch when a girl approached and asked for directions. We told her we didn’t know because we just got into town. That didn’t matter to her, because she decided to sit down and start a conversation. She was nice and all, but definitely kind of crazy. Two minutes later I realize why she asked for directions…it’s my man Seth she wants directions from. She’s throwin out the vibe but Seth definitely wasn’t catching. I decided to help move things along by asking Iz to throw the Frisbee with me…you know, for some alone time. Seth fires over a death stare. Five minutes later Seth turns around and says, “hey guys, sam is waiting for us.” Which translates to, get me out of here. I look at Seth with a huge smile and say, “nah man, he can wait. I’m in no hurry.” I thought Seth’s eyes were going to pop out of his head. Eventually we came to the rescue and headed back to the RV. We spent the rest of the afternoon in the Union Station parking lot relaxing on lawn chairs and throwing the frisbee.

Monday:
Our adventure was coming to a close. If this was a sitcom, we had one final episode. Renting a RV is an amazing experience that I recommend everyone doing at least once in a lifetime. But there is a major downside. The RV has a toilet and it gets used. It is the renters responsibility to return the RV with empty septic tanks. Normally you could take it to a RV park for dumping but we were running low on time. I looked at the fellas and said, “we gotta do it.” All agreed that there was only one way. We pulled up to an empty parking lot close to the freeway. (I’m apologizing to the ones that find this gross and offensive) The four of us looked at each other and said, “alright, who’s going to pull the lever.” The reason this is so risky is because the lever is right next to the opening where the “stuff” comes out. Israel says, “guys, I’ll do it.” Like a champion taking one for the team…we all say a prayer. Israel steps around to the driver side, leans down, and puts his hand on the lever marked “black water”. Three, two, one…pull. Whoosh goes the “black water”, Israel almost didn’t escape in time. It’s kind of illegal to do this so we didn’t stick around. We thought it was a better idea to drive down the street with black water streaming out. It was awesome.

Sam and Seth had noon flights while Iz and I weren’t leaving till 7. We made it to the airport and said our goodbyes. Iz and I had enough time to go to the Coors factory. We went on the tour and got our wives some t-shirts. (I’m sorry Jill if it’s too small) All in all this adventure is on my top 3 list of all time. I’m only sharing one tenth of the stories that live in my head. I’m mildly depressed that I might not get to experience this again in my lifetime. It is something I will always remember.

Final thought: This whole thing came together for one reason. It was for my friend Israel. Here is a portion of an email I sent to him about a year ago.

you are my brother from another mother. I have never been so honest and so close to another guy in my life. i could write a book of all our adventures, and then right two more sequels…that’s how many stories we share. Thank you for always loving and never judging. Thanks for the kick in the pants when I need it. Thanks for writing a song about my son. Thanks for your soft heart and gentle spirit. You have taught me so much over the years, more than a lifetime of learning.

Happy 30th Israel.

Only a one way journey - Happy Birthday Iz (Part1)

2008-05-06T15:41:00.000-07:00

I’m currently flying home from a trip to Denver. I’m sunburned, I miss my family terribly, and I’m exhausted…that being said, it was one of the greatest adventures I’ve ever been on. This whole excursion was my way of saying happy 30th birthday to my friend Israel. This is a party I’ve been planning for about 6 months. It has taken many different forms but the final result is better than I imagined. I hope this doesn’t bore you…but I’ll attempt to bring you through our journey, it’s a long one so I broke it into two parts.

Thursday:
Six months of imagination has come to a climax on this very day. All the details and preparation have finally made it to physical form. I could call it a vacation, but the word adventure seems more appropriate. This is the day I load up the RV and prepare for our drive from Phoenix to Denver. It’s only a one way journey so everything we experience, everything we do, every decision we make…is happening for the first time every time. But this isn’t something that can be done alone, so I call on the assistance of a few others…namely Seth and Sam. I’ve spent the last hour pacing back and forth waiting for their arrival. I know that after they arrive the adventure has officially begun. I do a few last minute checks to kill time and it’s just enough. Seth and Sam show up and we load their stuff in about 20 seconds…okay maybe 30 seconds. We drive down the street to Israel’s house. (he only lives 6 houses away) I put the 25 foot beast into park and start to honk the horn like mad. The three of us are overflowing with excitement…like three girls going to a Miley Cyrus concert. Israel opens the door of his house, looks outside, and gets a huge smile on his face. He looks at Kati, then at the RV, then at Kati, then at the RV, then at Kati, then at the RV…this time he didn’t look back. It was time to hit the road. First stop, Flagstaff.

I will quote Israel when I say, “this was the quickest trip to Flagstaff I have ever had.” If this drive to Flagstaff was a drink, it would be one part belvedere, one part 50 cent, two parts testosterone, and one part “I can’t believe this is happening”. This is an expensive drink but the best I have ever had. I park the RV at the train station for the night and call it home. We got dinner at Beaver Street and played pool into the wee hours of the night.

Friday:
I told the guys if we do the most work on this day that we could spend more time relaxing. Seth, Sam, and I went to a coffee shop to plan out our route to Keystone Colorado. Sam charted a course and by 7:30 we were on the road…Israel still asleep of course. Three hours later Sam makes me a turkey sandwich without ever having to take my foot off the gas pedal…Israel still asleep of course. After six hours of conversation on topics such as religion, politics, marriage, and sex, we arrive in Moab Utah…Israel still asleep of course. We decided to get some lunch while in Moab. Israel slumbers out of bed and we settled on a microbrew restaurant. An hour and a half later we were back on the road.

The drive from Moab to Keystone was amazing. Most of it hugged the Colorado River which made for a very distracted driver…namely, me. The first part of the drive felt like I was driving through the Grand Canyon. It had the same kind of canyon walls on each side with the winding Colorado craving its way through. While driving I say to Seth, “this is so beautiful, how much for you to jump in the river right now?” I must tell you that it is about 55 degrees outside…so that would make the water around 45. Seth says, “100 dollars.” “No way man you’re crazy, that’s too much.” Israel says from the table, “I’ll do it for 20 bucks.” Five minutes later Israel is standing at the bank of the mighty Colorado in just his red boxers. I think his nerves were rattled by the signs that said, "no swimming/strong undercurrent". We just told him to stop being a “gi-na”. Israel didn’t disappoint, he dunked in the water and took it like a man. Six more hours and a total of 606 miles we made it to Keystone. We parked in a Starbucks parking lot and played it low key. It was like being in a hotel, wi-fi access and fresh coffee in the morning.

(to be continued)

A New Mentor

2008-04-30T10:53:00.000-07:00

Last week I had a phone conversation that went something like this:

(ring ring, ring ring)

Me: Hello
Caller: Mark, what ups
Me: Hey man, what you been up to?
Caller: nothing really, just working
Me: Cool, what’s up?
Caller: Hey man, I kind of have a favor to ask. But before I ask I want to tell you this, please please don’t feel obligated. Don’t feel like you have to say yes, I totally understand if it doesn’t work out.

(Whenever somebody says something like this I think, oh great, this is going to cost me something.)

Me: alright, what is it?
Caller: It’s my nephew…

My old friend goes on to tell me about a situation that his cousin is having. He’s struggling at home. His parents and he are at odds and it’s come to a point where something has got to change. I’ve always thought of the military academy as the last resort but I believe they have already come to this point. So how am I involved, you ask? For this kid to get accepted into the academy he needs to have a mentor. I used to work in youth ministry and give guitar lessons to high school students so I guess my name was thrown into the hat. The best I could do is tell my friend that I would meet with the parents and kid. The day before our meeting Jill was asking me what my obligation would be…how many times do we have to meet, what kind of time commitment…stuff like that. I told her I had no idea. I honestly didn’t know how I would respond until I met with the family.

It was 3:30 in the afternoon and we met a Starbucks. I got more information on the situation. I learned about their backgrounds and what their expectations were. I would have to drive out to Queen Creek twice a month, email once a week, and plan social outings once a month. Honestly, and I mean honestly. This did not sound appealing to me. Not because I don’t like the kid, but because I am a selfish person. These outings sound like burdens instead of fun activities. I spent the first fifteen minutes figuring out how I can tell these guys “no”. Then after 30 minutes of conversation, something changed in me. Do you know what changed my heart? I looked at my friend’s cousin…his head held low, eyes buried in a hat, playing with the straw in his empty drink. After knowing what I was obligating myself to, the parents asked me if I would be willing to be his mentor. I thought for a second, looked at the kid, then just blurted it out “yah, I think he’s worth it.” How do I look this kid in the face and tell him he’s not worth my time? I don’t have the heart to do it…and in fact, the exact opposite is true. He deserves more than just my time, he deserves my compassion. Who knows if this kid has ever heard these words or if he will ever hear them again. But everybody deserves to hear it at least once in their lifetime.

Final thought: Tomorrow I leave for an adventure with my friend Israel to celebrate his 30th birthday. I’m so excited, it’s going to be epic. With epic adventures come epic stories. I’m sure I’ll have one or two when I get back.

ministry, a smoke, and an apology

2008-04-17T11:13:00.000-07:00

Part 1 What I hate about being in ministry

The weekend before last oneplace had an awesome church event. In fact, it went ten times better than I thought it would. We had a oneplace bicycle road rally. It was epic. There was about 25 of us that started off from the church. The rally would lead us from oneplace to Steele Indian School Park. Sam and Nelson rode ahead and actually blocked off 2nd and 3rd street. I thought, “holy crap, this is so official.” Our trek north consumed one full lane of traffic for about 2 miles. We eventually came to our final destination where we met picnic tables of food. The weather was amazing, the grape soda was better than champagne, the conversations flowed easily, etc. To top it all off, we ended our bbq/rally with a kick ball game…wombats vs. the pterodactyls. It was neck and neck all the way down to the last inning. It ended with Sam gunning the ball at Chad as he was running home…when at the last second Chad leaps like a gazelle and the wisps under his feet. There were many cheers.

So what is the thing I hate about ministry? The reality is about half the people at the rally will not be at oneplace in two years. onePlace has seen an unusually high turn over rate since its birth. It’s not a bad thing, just something I hate. We minister to many young people who are just trying to navigate their way through life, discover passions, and pursue dreams. I love seeing others challenge themselves with new experience and a part of me is even jealous. Every month I hear that somebody is moving away. And because our demographic is so transient, some people that you think are totally committed just don’t come back. It’s the strangest thing. I love my church but that is something I definitely hate…being close to someone and seeing them move so far away.

Part 2 Jesse wants a smoke

This last weekend Rise Up had its grand opening in downtown Phoenix and it was a marathon of events. A bunch of people came in from out of town to celebrate the flagship store. Jesse, the founder of Rise Up International, is one of those guys that you can talk to for about 60 seconds and feel like you’ve been friends for years. On Thursday night a small group of people decided to gather at the store to share some drinks before the weekend festivities. (for those not present, there was also a promo party on Friday night and a grand opening party at the san carlos) Jesse and I share a hug, talk about the family, and admire the store. Five minutes later Travis goes outside to have a smoke and Jesse says, “that sounds good, I’ll go with.” A few of us head outside and all is good…until jesse says, “my wife is going to be so pissed, she hates it when I smoke.” We all laugh, then he says, “no really, she’s gonna be pissed.” Well now he’s just raised the anticipation of when this confrontation will happen. Sure enough Maria walks outside, sees Jesse smoking, shoots him a look, then goes back inside. Honestly it wasn’t that bad, I’ve had much worse. But jesse says, “oh man we’re going to be talking about this one later.” I turn to Jesse and offer a piece of advice. I say to him, “I to have gotten the stare before, and I to have had this same talk.” I told him a simple phrase that has helped me soften the ground. The phrase is, “I have a problem, I make bad choices.” Jesse just turns to me and starts laughing. He says, “I love it, it’s so honest.” I hope it helped Jesse.

Part 3 I’m sorry Brittany

Brittany has been on me the last two weeks about blogging. Who knows if anyone even reads this anymore. One of my fatal flaws is that I become obsessed and indifferent so quickly. I once went on a health kick and lost like 80 pounds in 6 months. I’ve now spent the last six years putting it back on. I once spent two hours every day practicing the guitar and now I barely play 2 hours a week. A year ago I played poker three days a week and now my desire to play has diminished. In fact I’m going to Vegas today and it will be the first time I’ve played in about three weeks. This has also carried over into my relationships. I’ve been a groomsman or best man in 8 weddings and I don’t have regular contact with any of them…that’s right, none of them. Don’t get me wrong, when I meet with old friends it usually takes about 30 seconds to get back to the way things were. But that doesn’t change the fact that people come and go from my life too easily. I haven’t blogged over the last couple of weeks because I just haven’t thought about. So I’m sorry Brittany, I’m trying to change. Maybe this my first step.

Favorite Oregon Story

2008-03-25T19:55:00.000-07:00

Part of the reason we decided to go to Oregon was to spend some time with our friends Nole and Carrie. They live in Bend which is a beautiful community a lot like Flagstaff, just nicer and cleaner. There were many things I was looking forward to doing like going to the snow, playing poker with Nole, and sharing a beer with other friends in the area. We did all of those things but one story stands out above the rest.

“Hey Mark, I know this sounds weird, but I’ve got to go soak in the tub for 15 minutes” I say to Nole with a slight chuckle, “What?” He proceeds to tell me that it is part of the doctors orders. Now this next bit of information was probably meant to be kept quiet, but we’re all friends. Nole has hemorrhoids. Because of this Nole must soak in hot water three times a day. Usually his soak time happens after he gets home from school around 4 o’clock.

I was sleeping on the couch when Nole came home. In fact the whole family was sleeping. We exchanged hello’s for a second and talked about the game plan for the rest of the night. “Alright man, I’ve got to soak.” Nole exists the room. I hear the water turn on. I start to drift back to sleep. There is no question Nole is in full soak mode. What could possibly interrupt his 15 minutes of relaxation?

Then all of a sudden in the midst of my half conscious slumber I hear a 3 year old voice say, “I have to go pee.” Being half awake gives me the ability to think about saying “don’t go in the bathroom”, but being half asleep prevents me from getting the words out. Jett charges for the bathroom, pulls on the doorknob, and flings the door open. The next 5 seconds could be described as frozen horror…both Nole and Jett caught like deer in the headlights. They are both so shocked neither of them knows what to do. Jett still has to pee and it's not like Nole can get up and leave. Well it gets worse. Three year olds sometimes need help going to the bathroom. Jill sees Jett charge for the bathroom so it is her instinct to help him out. Five seconds after Jett arrives in the bathroom Jill does. All I hear is Jill say, “oh my gosh.” Nole again, caught in frozen horror. Jill yells for me and says can you help me, please come shut this door. I pop off the couch and walk towards the bathroom where I see Jill covering her mouth and laughing (or gagging, I can’t tell). I get to the bathroom and this is what I see. Nole is soaking in the tub, playing online poker, and using his laptop to cover his private parts. This is why Nole makes me laugh every time we talk.

Just got back from Oregon

2008-03-21T10:51:00.001-07:00

I just got back from a week long trip to Oregon. I can’t wait to share some stories, but I’ll reserve that for the next post. Here some thoughts from the last week.

“The human heart is not designed to go that deep with a person just to back out.” This is a quote from my friend Quinn. He was speaking of a personal experience but I’ve found it to be universally profound. It makes me wonder about the risks we take in life. Not the risk of what school to go to or whether or not to move to Oregon. I’m talking about something much riskier. I’m talking about the risk of loving another. We humans like to throw ourselves into these situations where there is a strong likelihood of attachment and pain. This will exist on varying levels for all of our relationships. The pain might be mild like a daughter moving away from home or a fight with your husband over money. Or the pain could be great like illness or loss. It’s not something many people think about when giving love away. But there is an underlying reality. That is if love exists, pain will exist as well. And the greater you love, the greater possibility of pain. Even the couple who has shared a blissful marriage for fifty plus years knows that one day one of them will live without the other. We allow ourselves to attach knowing well that if that connection were to ever disappear, our world would start to unravel.

We had just gotten done with dinner on the first day of our trip to Oregon. We all made the easy decision to go get ice cream across the street. I was in the shop combing over the flavors when I realized Kati and Israel were standing outside in the cold. I didn’t know for sure, but it looked like they were praying. Kati got a phone call from a family member that there was an emergency at home. Kati’s cousin Shawn has a daughter named Paige. Kati didn’t have any details except for one. Paige collapsed and wasn’t breathing. I don’t even want to imagine the horror of being the father in this situation. I look at my son who is roughly the same age and began to tear up. On the drive back to the hotel Kati got another phone call. I don’t know any details but I can hear her weeping in the back seat. The sound of her cry makes my heart flutter for a second and puts a knot in my stomach. No words are shared…it’s the profound silence that tells the result.

My heart aches for Shawn and Kristy…to give this much love to another and to feel this much pain when she's gone. My experience was unique because Lincoln was an infant. My memories of him only span those 18 days. Shawn and Kristy have years of memories, more experiences than could fit into a mind. These words were never more fitting: the human heart is not designed to go that deep with a person just to back out.

The main reason I went to Oregon was to visit with friends. We did a bunch of stuff that I will blog about later but one of my favorites was playing heads-up poker with Nole. Most of our conversation centered on trying to outplay each other. But one time we took a break. Nole knew about the stuff Kati’s family was going through. He asked me about my past experiences and how I was doing. The conversation led to a question like this, “Were you scared to try and have kids again?” My response was, “yes, very scared. But my desire to love again far out weighs my fear of pain. I don’t know does that make sense?” Nole said, “Yah man, it makes perfect sense.”

Here is my prayer for Shawn and Kristy. I pray that you are not consumed by the hurt you feel inside. I pray that when the clouds start to break you will have hope. May God bring rest to your souls.

Dinner and a Novel

2008-03-11T12:30:00.000-07:00

First off, I’m sorry it’s been so long. Wow, now that I think about it, that sounds really arrogant. It’s like I’m saying, you’ve been waiting for me to write this whole week. How could I do you the injustice of not writing a new entry? Well that’s not what I meant. I shall strike the first sentence from the record. Replace it with…I’ve missed writing and miss your great comments. That’s better.

It’s a Saturday night with nothing to do. Jill and I decided to hang out as a family and what better to do than go to dinner. Jill has been making most of our dinners lately so this was a real treat. That’s not how it sounds. I meant to say, Jill has been making a bunch of meals lately and it’s nice to give her a night off. For the record, I think Jill is a good cook. With the exception of the eggplant meal, I could live without that one again. We go back and forth for a little bit and then decided on Paradise Bakery. On the way there I tell Jill I need to make a stop at the gas station. We pull into the QT parking lot…not for gas, not for a drink, not for a snack. I stopped at the gas station to buy something ridiculous…a lottery ticket.

Jill has come to the point of just living with my antics. She tells me to hurry up because she’s really hungry. I buy the ticket and scamper back to the truck. I hop in and say to Jill, “What would you do with 200 million? Well, just 100 million after taxes.” Jill smiles at me and says, “I’d pay off my dad’s mortgage.” “Well, what else?” “I’d give it away.” I can’t really argue with that because I’d probably do the same thing. At dinner Jill and I daydreamed about who we would help and how we would distribute the money. Jill said that she would want a budget of how much she could give away each day. I then devised a way of investing the money and living off the interest. We talked about taking our friends on vacation, moving downtown and giving to the church. “Can you imagine what onePlace would do with millions?” We continued to share stories and joked about not telling anyone our secret. This conversation would seem silly to anyone else. But to Jill and I…it was our fantastic novel.

I’ll be the first to admit that money would not make us happier. Life is still risky and challenging. Money doesn’t solve all of life’s problems. The dream becomes exciting because it’s hard to imagine life without financial strain…not just for me but for all the people I know. The odds of winning are 146 million to one. Do I think I will ever win? No. But when I bought that ticket, I gave myself a chance to dream, a chance to imagine. The idea of not winning almost becomes irrelevant. Because for that short time the dreamer inside of me tells reality to wait until dinner is over. Sitting down at dinner and writing the novel with my wife… that’s what I bought for a dollar.

things I miss about me

2008-03-04T10:40:00.000-08:00

Have you ever misplaced something you really enjoy only to find it some time later? Maybe it’s a shirt you left at a friend’s house. Maybe it’s a cd you lost in your car. Maybe it’s a love letter from the past. Everybody can relate to that feeling of excitement knowing that you recaptured this “thing”. Because it’s not just the object, it’s also the feelings associated with the object. It’s not any shirt, it’s the shirt you bought at your first concert. It’s the cd you always put in on road trips. It’s the love letter that made you realize that you were going to marry this person.

I was fifteen when my sister gave me a hat from the University of Arizona. I loved this hat. It was fitted. It had the basic logo. It had no insignia on the back. These are all the things that made this hat perfect. I probably wore this hat everyday for three years straight. But when I left for college I remember leaving this hat behind. I don’t even know why. I guess subconsciously I wanted something different. For years this hat was hidden somewhere at my parent’s house. My mom had cleaned out my room and stored a bunch of stuff in the garage…boxes and boxes of junk. Then one day, without even looking for it, my hat came back to me. I was looking for an empty box when I stumbled into some old clothes. The item at the very top was my U of A hat flattened like a pancake. I went to the nearest mirror, re-cranked the bill, and tried it on. It was old and familiar. I’ve been wearing it ever since.

I have gone through all of this to tell you that I’ve misplaced something very special to me. Something I’ve had since I was 19. I lost it a couple of years ago and can’t seem to find it anywhere. I’ve lost my desire to create music. Music has been a huge part of my life for the last decade. I’ve played all over and have had so many great experiences. I remember practicing until my fingers were about to fall off. I never knew what time it was and hours felt like minutes. I remember when my band was playing its first show. I think I only slept for a couple of hours. I remember playing at a midnight service for a local church. I got to play one of my originals in front of about 2500 people. I remember Israel coming over and sharing new hooks he was working on. My legs would jitter because I was so anxious to add a new layer that would compliment the melody. I remember when I would stay up late and play guitar in the bedroom closet. I played there because I didn’t want to wake anyone up but still sing with all my heart. These days are long over. I’ve lost it and now I’m trying to find it again.

Last week my friends Matt and Andrew asked me to come play music with them. No schedule, no agenda…just for fun. At first I didn’t know how to respond. The idea of playing for recreation was foreign to me. And you know what, it was amazing. I found something better than that ragged hat or concert t shirt. I found that part of me that loves music…the thrill of melodies filling a room…the presence of something beautiful created from my hands. (well, some beautiful, some not so beautiful) This experience has inspired me to rekindle a passion from the past. Like going to an old flame and saying, “can we try this one more time?” I played last night…I played for hours. Nothing significant came of it. It’s not like I wrote a hit song that is going to change the world. But the feelings of being able to express and create through music…yeah those things…those are the things I miss about me.

My Desk (Part 2)

2008-02-27T17:02:00.000-08:00

My desk is a humble desk. It’s only two feet wide but it serves in many roles. It carries a heavy burden because it is the most versatile and used piece of equipment at onePlace. It must be flexible with the different jobs and has to be ready to adjust at any moment. I love my desk for many reasons. I wouldn’t change it for anything. Here is the reason why…if my desk could talk, this is what it would say:

“I got my first tattoo only a couple of months ago. It wasn’t something I really wanted but kind of just came to me. I was working a show for the venue when a teenage girl decided to make her mark. She wrote “Brittany J Andy J”. I don’t know either of them but she obviously thought it was important. It opened up Pandora’s Box because ever since that day everybody and their mother felt the need to give me more tattoos, more random statements, more personal declarations. At first it kind of bothered me, but the more it happened, the more I questioned its purpose. Why do people ‘tag’? I think the answer is rather profound. The artist wants to be noticed, wants to be seen, wants to be heard, wants to make an impact, and wants to belong to something. Can I be upset at a person who longs for those things? Not really. In fact, I want to be the object that displays the art of the unseen. I carry it with pride. Because when the day is done, I know that the marginalized man was noticed and the silent soul was heard.

My other job is being Mark’s desk throughout the week. He’s a brut of a man, handsome, intelligent, sophisticated, and stylish yet the sensitivity of a mother Teresa type. He makes me want to be a better desk. (maybe my desk didn’t say all those things, but it’s my fabled personification, just let me dream) My purpose here is practical. I support the work of a man who loves and serves the church. There is nothing glamorous about this job. I don’t get noticed. I don’t draw attention. I’m simply here to support the work of the guys who dream.

My favorite job throughout the week is the one I have on Sunday nights. That’s the night onePlace has church. It’s the most sacred job any one person can have. I sit in the back corner, I dress in black, I am the hand that holds communion. I see people focused on a time of remembering. I see people trying to reconnect with God. I see others with completely broken lives. I can’t tell you how many tears have been shed in my presence…men and women who have knelt in front of me begging for mercy. Their prayers came out in whispers but this is what I remember. I remember a young lady praying for her dad who was dying of cancer. I remember a man asking for God to restore his broken marriage. I remember a couple who just lost a child. I remember a young man who was devastated by his parents divorce. I remember a man who just lost his job. I remember a lady suffering from bouts with depression. I remember the man who was pleading for God’s forgiveness. I remember the lady that was shackled with fear. I remember all of them. I remember them because we shared communion together. They all come to this place of reckoning because of one thing. It’s not because of me. It’s not even because of what I hold. It’s because they want to meet with God, the true and living God. I don’t know if I told you, this is my favorite job.”

That is a whole lot for a desk to say, but I believe it to be accurate. In fact, my desk might be a better Christian than I am. These are simple yet profound goals; display the art of the unseen, support the guys who dream, and be the hands that help others commune with God. My desk is a humble desk, but I love what it teaches me.

My Desk (Part 1)

2008-02-26T17:39:00.000-08:00

I remember going to the bathroom, washing my hands, and slowly making my way back to our leader meeting. For some bizarre twist of events, during my 3 minute absence my co-leaders had decided that I should pastor the church. How is this possible? I just left the room. Their words were flattering but this just wasn’t the sort of thing I felt capable of. It just didn’t seem like a perfect fit. So we as a team waited.

Three months later I started talking to Kevin. Kevin is a passionate follower of Christ and shows a sincere desire to bring hope to a hurting world. For the first time, I started to dream what it would be like to co-lead a church with somebody like Kevin. Kev and I have similar personalities but are uniquely different. The idea of pastoring in this type of role was exciting…fresh…“me”. I started to re-imagine a pastoral role where I wasn’t the sole provider. It would be a place where two people could share the burden. I've had many images and visions of what working together would look like...sharing ideas, working through theology, and serving our community. But the very first image I had in my mind was this.

It was the image of me working at the front of the stage and Kev working in the office. We would have separate space but still be close enough to tell haphazard jokes. I don’t know why this was so appealing, it just was. On our first day to work Kev asked me if I wanted to share the office. To me going back to an office is like taking a step backwards in my linear progression away from the grips of “the man”. I once had the corner office with the window, bookshelves made of rich mahogany, and many leather bound books. “The man” once had me until I kicked him in the kidney and said “can you capture the wind, can you hold the fire, such is mango.” I turned around and never looked back. That is why my desk at the front of the stage feels like home.

To be continued:

Blockbuster Trade

2008-02-24T13:43:00.000-08:00

This whole thing started because I said I wanted to go snowboarding. It’s about 4:30 in afternoon and news is reporting record snowfall in Flagstaff. I can’t believe I’ve only gone twice this season. In the past I’ve gone multiple times in horrible conditions and in a shortened season. But with working at the church now, I have to be more responsible with my time. When the news was over I asked Jill, “Can I go boarding this next week?” She promptly said no and reminded me that I just got back from Vegas. I think her words were “the fun times are over, you have to work.” I’ve always been a stubborn person and “no” always seemed like a challenge instead of an answer. My response to her was, “alright, let’s make a deal.”

Her reply was typical. “I don’t want to trade anything.” “Surely there is something you want.” “Nope, there is nothing.” “Come on Jill, let’s be reasonable.” She said okay, I’ll tell you what I want. “I want two Saturdays all to myself to do whatever I want.” (Before I go on, Jill wants Saturdays to herself because she works really hard throughout the week taking care of the kids. I work five days a week and she rarely gets time to herself. Most of her time alone is when she’s working. If I get time alone, she wants time alone as well.) Now let me tell you, I’m not happy with the offer, but it’s definitely a starting point. It’s like I got her into the dealership, sat her down in my office, and got her to admit she really wants the car. I’ll show any offer to my manager if it means we can start the negotiating process. Her first offer is closer than she thinks but I can’t let her know that. In the words of flight of the concords, it’s business time.

Offer 2 (mark) One Saturday for one day of boarding
Offer 3 (jill) She’s a firm no, two Saturdays for one day of boarding

She’s obviously not moving so I’m forced to bring other elements into the equation. I have this degenerate friend that I’ve talked about in the past. His name is Vegas. Now the thing about Vegas is the more you hang out, the more things he wants to give you. And I’m not the kind of person to turn down one’s generosity. I got an offer where I received a couple nights free at the Wynn. When I first told Jill about it she said she would be interested in going. I love the idea because Jill rarely goes with me…she’s been twice to be specific. But the more I talked to her about it, the more I realized that she was just going because it’s free and wasn’t really that interested. If that is the case, might as well go with friends that would be fired up about the opportunity. So my next offer raised the stakes.

Offer 4 (mark) 3 Saturdays for an April trip to Vegas with friends

She laughs in my face, I’m quite certain she is insulted with my low ball offer…
“oh, you want Vegas, do you?”

Offer 5 (jill) 6 Saturdays for the trip to Vegas
Offer 6 (mark) 4 Saturdays for the trip to Vegas and snow boarding
Offer 7 (jill) 6 Saturdays for trip to Vegas and boarding

At this point, I can sense we are getting close but don’t want to do anything rash that would make her walk away completely. I delicately move forward.

Offer 8 (mark) 5 Saturdays for trip to Vegas and boarding
Offer 9 (jill) No deal, repeats offer number 7
Offer 10 (mark) 5 Saturdays and a back rub for trip to Vegas and boarding
Offer 11 (jill) Alright…I guess…that seems fair

After 30 minutes of talks, here are the final terms to the agreement.
Jill receives:
Five Saturdays to do whatever she wants
- must be redeemed by end of May
- a day is represented by the hours of 6am – 3pm (Jill set the hours)
- the Saturdays must be non consecutive
Back Rub
- 15 minutes
- Redeemable that night

Mark receives:
One day of snowboarding
Trip to Vegas with the guys
- redeemed in April

It honestly works out for both of us. Jill didn’t really want to go to Vegas and I think she deserves Saturdays without trading. So I guess it’s a win, win. But do you know what made this whole thing so awesome? The laughter we shared while making the trades. Because it wasn’t just about making compromises, it’s about having fun with the person you’re with. I smile when I think about this moment because it’s just another reminder that Jill and I still love having fun. I’ll take that over our trade any day.

It's 2:50am and once again I can't sleep

2008-02-21T12:27:00.000-08:00

This is a post I wrote in the middle of the night:

It’s 2:50am and once again I can’t sleep. Sometimes I feel as if he has completely rearranged my life…like he’s come inside of my heart and simply moved the furniture around. It’s still my furniture, it’s just not where I left it. But now that I think about it, isn’t that the way it should be? Is it possible to lose something you love and not feel as if your life has been rearranged? If so, maybe it wasn’t really love. If that is the case, I welcome the new arrangement. Although unsettling, I have proof that I have experienced the result of true love. Some people will live a lifetime and not experience this type of rearrangement…I don’t know if I should count them blessed or pity them. Maybe a little of both.

The one year anniversary of Lincoln’s birth was especially hard. I remember being flooded with memories…memories of the hospital, coming home, watching Jill hold him, the funeral. But none was more painful than writing him a birthday card and leaving it at his grave. I remember going to Walgreens and looking through the cards for about an hour. I wanted to make sure I found the right one. This was a surreal experience because I knew he would never read it but I still felt like it needed to be done…like I still had some things to tell him. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t going to read it, because reality is my heart still bleeds, feels, loves and knows. I remember holding him at night and whispering in his ear, “I love you, I love you…I know you don’t understand what I’m saying but I can’t stop telling you.” Buying the card gives me this image of a teenager pulling away in his car when his dad suddenly realizes he forgot to tell him something important. The dad is waving his hands in the air, but the kid never sees him and keeps on driving. In this story the kid never returns.

I sat in my car at the cemetery for about 30 minutes before I ever wrote a word. I didn’t know how to start this kind of letter. So I just wrote the first thing that came to mind. “Your mom and I miss you.” After the words made it to page, I just sat there and wept…simply reduced to a whimpering child. I tried to think of something else to write but nothing else came to mind. So I just sat there content with my one line. Ten minutes later my hand starts on the next sentence. Then another. Then another. Before you know it I’ve run out of space. I wrote it all so fast that I had to go back and reread my own words. The line I remember most is, “mom hasn’t been the same since you passed away. I think when you passed, a piece of her passed as well.”

I used to think that the goal of healing after tragedy is to recapture this part of your self that is missing. You know, to go back to the way things were. I don’t know if that is true any more. I think I’ve finally become content that my life will never be the same…that the new furniture arrangement is the way it’s going to stay. I’ve come to embrace that a piece of my wife has passed as well. I once heard an amputee say that he was grateful to be alive and that he had adjusted to his new life. He had learned how to function in a society of non-handicaps. He began to laugh again, form new relationships, and even re-enlisted into the military. But no matter what, that didn’t change the fact that every time he looked in the mirror he saw his leg was missing. That is how I feel. That piece that’s missing, that piece that keeps me up at night, that piece that has rearranged my life, these things exist because…I loved my son…I loved him infinitely…and I can’t stop if I tried. That is what I’ve come to live with. One last thing, if I could somehow change the story it would go like this. My son was pulling away in his car when I remembered I forgot to tell him something. I waved my arms in the air as high as I could. He glanced in his rear view mirror and saw me standing there. He turned the car around and drove back towards home. My son pulled in the driveway, rolled down the window and asked, “what is it dad?” I would tell him this, “I love it when you’re home and hate it when you’re gone. Can you stay with me a little bit longer?”

Israel's post (titled: better late than never)

2008-02-19T10:26:00.000-08:00

Israel has come through in the final seconds. Here are the thoughts of my friend Israel, aka. Izzy, Izzle, Sizzle, McSizzle, Siz, Sizzy, Kenneth, Kenny, Special K, K-Love, and bad ass pterodactyl:

So I am trying to write this blog thing and Mark has given me one rule. Be honest. So, in all honesty I don't know what to write about. I was trying to think of something deep and meaningful. I had what I thought was a great story full of wisdom and about 2 minutes into the story with my wife, she informed me that she was bored. Exactly what I needed. So I will try something else.

I need to apologize. The other day I was with a friend. And as they were going on and on and on and on about something, my inner voice kicked in...”hey Kati always says that I talk to much, that I don't let other people talk, that I tend to dominate the conversation. Wow, is he still talking, what is going on I just want to eat and leave. I wish I was going with Mark to Vegas, we have so much fun. Man it really is a nice day. Hey... do you think I can talk, I would like to say something as well. Remember me. I wonder if people hanging out with me feel this way. I should say something to them, apologize.” So here’s to that. If you have ever had this conversation in your head or felt this way around me, sorry. I hope I can talk less and listen more.

Oh, and by the way my wife informed me this morning that I have gray hair.
Awesome.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

2008-02-18T08:16:00.000-08:00

Part 1:
So in my absence, Israel decided he was too important to post a blog entry. Apparently, he’s a big deal and doesn’t just slum it with us commoners. I apologize for giving such a responsibility to somebody who doesn’t value it as much as I do. Israel, if you read this, your reparation is two bud lights, a Reese’s peanut butter cup, and a twisty cone.

Part 2:
I had a great time in Vegas but don’t want to bore you with unnecessary details. I thought I would just give you some highlights. What happens in Vegas, goes on my blog.
1. I took third in a tournament at Caesar’s Palace.
2. I ate at the Bellagio buffet for the first time and it was amazing.
3. I watched Kev play Pai Gow poker for the first time and turn 50 into 95.
4. It was refreshing to hang out with an old friend of mine…somebody I have known for years but don’t see that much. In fact, I was Josh’s best man.
5. Favorite toast, “here’s to old friends being new again.”
6. I played the at most casinos I’ve ever played. (Luxor, MGM, New York New York, Flamingo, Harrah’s, Bellagio, Caesar’s Palace)
7. One of my guilty pleasures is watching the Hills. For you that watch the show, I ran into Brody. I’m embarrassed that I know that.
8. The second night I went to bed at 10:30pm and felt like a loser the next morning.

Would anybody be interested in going this summer? (Israel, you’re not invited)

Part 3:
Recently Jill switched real estate companies in order to save on monthly fees. I think this was a good decision because it saves us about 250 a month. But with switching companies comes the need to update all of your print materials, i.e. flyers, signs, business cards, etc. Before I go any further I want to say this, I think Jill is one of the best agents anywhere. She genuinely cares about her clients, she works hard, she stays on top of the all the details, she understands every branch of the process…not to mention she’s pretty smart. I’ve always told Jill that she should be a doctor or something.

So Jill asked me to make her a new business card. Of course I agreed and put it off for a week. But we finally sat down last night to work out the details. The problem is Jill and I don’t really see eye to eye on what her card should look like. Jill wants the standard red, white, and blue colors, picture on the right, and block lettering for her name. But that’s not good enough for me. I insist that it must be different. I want it to represent the things previously mentioned. But she won’t budge. It went down like this:
J: Can you just do it the way I asked?
M: The way you want it is boring. Everybody has it that way.
J: I don’t want it different.
M: Can you explain why that’s the best solution?
J: Because it’s what I want.
M: You want something that sucks?
J: I want it like I had it before.
M: (sigh) (then with a firm voice) all right…show me what you want, be specific
J: Forget it, I knew you couldn’t just make this easy. (Jill exits room)
10 minutes later
M: Can we work on this thing?
J: No, I’ll just hire someone.
M: Come on, seriously, don’t be like this.
J: Don’t be like this…?, you’re the one making a big deal about it.
M: Well, I’m over it, so let’s get this thing done.
J: Not with your attitude
5 more minutes
M: Please can we finish.
J: Fine, I don’t even care anymore.

30 minutes later we produce a business card. It looks basic, standard, simple, but Jill is pleased with the outcome. Best of all, the tension has subsided. At this point it’s pretty late, Jill gives me a kiss and heads for bed. But what she doesn’t know is that I stayed up and created a different card. The new card is the one I would have created if I had control. I think it looks cleaner and better represents her. I’m thinking about getting them printed and handing them out behind her back. Here is what we made

Viva Las Vegas

2008-02-11T09:56:00.000-08:00

Later today I leave for Las Vegas. No convention, no business...just because I enjoy it. As a pastor, this is something I hate telling people who don’t know me. Whenever I mention going to Vegas I feel that I must give disclaimers. "I'm not there for the other stuff, I just enjoy playing poker." The "other stuff" is usually known as one of three things; drinking (usually excessively because it's free), gambling (defined as, where the house has the advantage), and sex (I don't think I need to explain this one). FYI, The sex stuff is the part I hate most about Vegas. I was talking to Israel about this once when he pointed to a flyer and said, "that girl is somebody's maggie." Maggie is the name of his daughter. It was powerful to think about.

Because of all the crazy stories people share about there Vegas experience (some friends, some acquaintances), I feel that I am guilty by association. For the ones who don’t know me, I avoid being honest…I just secretly enjoy Vegas. But I really do love staying up all night and getting breakfast at the Luxor around 6 am. I love sitting on the patio at the Irish pub in the New York, New York. I love playing poker at the Bellagio and seeing the best within feet. I love taking naps at 8pm because nole and iz are calling for an all night-er. I love traveling with friends. Vegas is like a degenerate friend. He’s the guy that everybody gets along with but sometimes just takes things too far. I love him and hate him. I love him because our personalities mesh well…both extroverts, laugh a ton, night owls, etc., but hate him because I know all the things he does. The key to our friendship is this…we both understand that we’ll have a blast going to baseball games, restaurants, and movies without fighting. But when it comes to where we go afterwards, we part ways. That is the balance to this friendship, knowing when to part ways.

FYI. In my absence, Israel is going to post a blog entry to keep this thing rolling. Look foward to that coming

Waiting in Line

2008-02-08T18:51:00.000-08:00

So it’s lunch time and Quizno’s is on my mind…to be more specific, the prime rib and peppercorn sandwich. I yell to kevo, “I’m thinking Quizno’s for lunch, you in?” He gives the confirmation with a “yes-ir”. It’s a deal and we’re off to engage in magical prime rib and peppercorn heaven. We stand through the long line and order our food. “hey kev, let’s just eat in the church parking lot.” “yah man.” We sit in the back lot whenever our teeth start to chatter. Sometimes it does get that cold. We get in the truck, I throw it into reverse, then…knock, knock, knock. There is a tired looking man I had never met before standing next to my truck and before I roll down the window I know what he is going to ask. “hey man, can you break bread with me?” In my mind this automatically translates to, “can I have some money?”

When I first met Ace, our resident street friend, he seemed to be somebody I connected with…somebody I could be honest with and somebody who would be honest with me. I once asked him what he believed was the percentage of people living on the streets that have substance abuse issues. He flat told me “all of them.” I then asked him if the money they receive ever goes towards food and shelter. He told me almost never. Ace says, “You have to be an idiot to go hungry in Phoenix. There are so many places willing to get you food.” He then told me that if I wanted to help somebody out, don’t give money, take them to get food. So I adopted this philosophy. I’ve stopped giving out money, but have started providing meals. What I have found is most people asking for money turn down my offer for food.

I was quick to tell the man at Quizno’s that I would not give him money but I would get him a sandwich. Secretly, I was hoping he would just walk away. But instead his eyes lit up and pointed towards the street, “okay, I’ll be waiting right over there.” I didn’t want to wait in the line again. I was really hungry. And Quizno’s is the most expensive fast food available. But you know what happens next, I quickly threw it in reverse and got out of there. No no no, I’m just kidding. I reluctantly get out of the truck, look at Kevin and mutter under my breath, “I’m so carnal.” This guy is begging for a sandwich and I don’t want to wait in line again. What’s wrong with this picture? It’s easy to throw a couple of bucks at a guy. It eases my conscience and makes for a quick transaction. It’s clean…sanitary…convenient. But clean, sanitary, and convenient love is selfish love. I don’t want that kind of love from others, so it’s not the kind of love I should give. When it comes to the way I love, I have spent too much time in my truck. I think I need to get out and wait in line more often.

It's a fight!!

2008-02-05T11:36:00.000-08:00

My wife hates it when I blog about our fights. The other day she said, “people must think we always fight.” I tried to put her at ease by telling her that we don’t fight that often and that other people go through the same things. Most people just don’t share it with the world. But what is it that makes watching a fight so interesting?

Israel has been working a ton lately trying to get his new business off the ground. We haven’t been hanging out as much, but it’s hard to blame him when I see how committed he is to supporting his family. So I made a plea to hang out some. I sent him a text message that read,
cats in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man on the moon, when you comin home Iz, “I don’t know when, we’ll get together then, you know we’ll have a good time then”

Later that day I get a call and Israel has responded well to my plea. “We need to get some food and drinks.” I’m not one to deny either. So we decide to meet up at 10pm which is after his Monday meeting. We settle on hanging out at the fox and hound. It was just like old times. Israel got the ace pear cider, I got a bud light, Israel got the pizza melt, I got the wings, Israel was desperate to win one game of pool, I continued to kick his ass. Everything was status quo until we looked towards the bathrooms and see a small crowd gathered. My fourth grade instinct came out and I was like, I have to see what’s going on…knowing full well that a fight was about to ensue. Then like a blaze of fury a guy comes from the bathroom vicinity and charges into the bar area. Oh dang, it’s on! Before I could blink an eye two dudes are on the ground exchanging blows. Waitresses are screaming. Guys are yelling. Glass is breaking. The manager is trying to break it up. And all the while, I’m caught in the trance of a spectacular train wreck. I couldn’t turn away if I wanted to. When it’s all over I walk back to our table, Israel and I simply resume our game. It made me think, what makes watching a fight so interesting?

I don’t really have an answer, but this is what I’ve come up with. I know that conflict is a basic human trait and tension between people can be unsettling. We long for balance and justice. I guess more than anything I want to see the result…as clean or ugly as it may be. So maybe it’s not the fight that’s interesting, but the outcome, the result, the resolution. That’s much more satisfying. I would like to think that I don’t blog about fights, but rather I blog about resolutions. Everybody can relate with that.

"You do homework right now"

2008-02-03T01:09:00.000-08:00

When I was in the 5th grade I had a huge crush on a girl named Brandi Arnold. She was a smokin hottie. She was also probably the most popular girl in our class. Now I don't know how you all had your classrooms set up but ours was always the same. Usually there were groups of four desks spread throughout the classroom. On the first day it was important to position yourself in a group that was somewhat cool. Worst case scenario, I'm stuck with Janelle. Best case scenario, I'm stuck with Brandi. At the beginning of the school year Mrs. Masters had something different in mind. She went through the entire class and gave us seating arrangements. This is terrible news…unless…no…no…this is great news. Who is that on my left? Miss Brandi…smooth and aromatic like the drink. I later found out that I wasn’t her type. (I wasn’t her type because she thought I was from Hong Kong, that’s a true story)

Although Brandi and I never had a love connection, she did teach me something. Before class each day, I would see her working on her homework. Everyday like clock work. That didn’t make sense to me because my crazy Asian mom was like, “You do homework right now, no play now.” So one day I asked Brandi, “Why didn’t you do that yesterday at home?” Her response was simple, “I didn’t want to.” It is something I will never forget. Because on that day…I became a procrastinator. Everyday since then I have put things off till the last minute. I did this in high school, in college, and even now. And it always makes me mad because I know it affects the quality of my work…I know inside it could be better. I want to be different, yet my laziness always gets the upper hand. I tell you this because it’s 2 in the morning and I just finished my Sunday morning talk. All kidding aside, I’m really pissed at myself that I let this happen again…and again…and again.

When is it my turn to win

2008-01-26T19:27:00.000-08:00

Is it possible that I'm always wrong? To me, this would seem statistically improbable. But when ever I get in a fight with Jill, I always feel like it's my fault (at least 93% of the time). I'll admit that I'm probably in the wrong at least 51% of the time. But it's not possible to be wrong all the time. (I understand that in most fights each party is partially to blame, but usually there is one that is a little more wrong than the other. We'll reserve this discussion for fights where there is at least 70% wrongness on the behalf an individual.) I wish there were a magical trainer that could sit on my shoulder and tell me when I was right...you know, to hold my ground. But when the bell sounds and we go to our seperate corners, I feel like my trainer is saying, "hey champ, you lost that round...and you lost the previous rounds as well. You're not looking good out there." And as I look across the ring I see my wife. Her trainer is rubbing her shoulders saying, "nice round, you look good. You've got nothing to worry about, he's way out matched." This is so frustrating. When is it my turn to win.

I remember my pastor growing up telling me that if I wanted a long happy marriage I should learn two words, "Yes dear." Screw that...that doesn't seem happy. God has wired us to be free thinkers and individually unique. That's what makes this thing so hard to reconcile. If a couple says they never disagree, it's either because they are lying or one person doesn't have a mind of their own. I appreciate the fact that Jill is an individual and a free thinker. It's one of the things I love about her. In fact, my marriage would be boring if Jill never challenged me. So I will conclude with this...Jill and I got into a fight and I don't know which one is right. I feel that I'm right at least 25% of the time, I just don't know what 25%. I believe my pride tells me that I'm right more frequent than what is reality. So maybe I shouldn't concentrate on the 25% of the time I'm right, but concentrate on the 75% of the time I'm wrong.

PS. I still think I'm right. ;)

Things I learned last night

2008-01-24T11:13:00.000-08:00

So last night I got to run sound for the onePlace venue. It doesn't happen very often. But Josh was out of town so I got brought up from the minors. It was a pretty uneventful night, but here are some of the things I learned last night.
1. Teenagers that play 2000 dollar guitars and have custom amps make me sick. I just want to walk on stage, look him in the face, and break one of his strings.
2. Brittany Shedd is a good dancer.
3. The Christian band was the most demanding and the hardest to work with. (which drives me nuts...I've ran sound for hardcore and metal shows and they never complain about anything.)
4. Kelly Clarkson is not good filler music while the bands are tearing down and loading in. But Noise Ratchet is.
5. I miss being in a band.
6. Running sound, running lights and eating a cheesy bean and rice burrito is not as hard as it sounds.
7. Thoughtful text messages make the world a better place. Everybody should send one after reading this.
8. I'm so proud to be apart of the downtown scene.
9. Miah and Shells are my breath of fresh air. Thanks for the company.
10.Voting has closed and I disagree with the verdict. An overwhelming 47 % of the vote said that I owe Jill a back massage. I might not like it, but justice has prevailed.

Reserved for really REALLY big fights

2008-01-22T14:40:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have that feeling that someone is upset with you, but you don’t really know why? Like you obviously did something wrong, but it’s not obvious to you. Well, I woke up this morning and felt like Jill was giving me the cold shoulder. Not an icy cold shoulder, just a moderately chilly shoulder.

I got out of bed this morning and slumbered towards the bathroom. In my groggy state, I rubbed my eyes to clean out the cobwebs. You could still see the outline of a wrinkled up pillow case on my cheek. Jill and I met eyes in the bathroom but no words were exchanged. I watched her do her hair for a few seconds when she said, “I’m taking the kids to get pictures today.” That was it. I was getting the sense that something wasn’t right. So I asked her if she was alright. She responded with a half hearted “I’m fine.” But if you could hear the tone in her voice you would know that she wasn’t fine. What she was saying was, “I’m fine”, but what I was hearing was, “you’re a douche bag.”

So I asked her again “what’s the matter?” Her second response was the more sincere one. She said to me, “I hate it when you fall asleep on the couch. I just want you to be in bed with me.” Jill was referring to the fact that I fell asleep on the couch watching poker around 10:30 and didn’t come to bed till 4am. Historically in our marriage, falling asleep on the couch is reserved for really really big fights (it’s happened maybe 5 or 6 times) …not for reruns of poker after dark. So when she woke up at 2 and noticed I wasn’t in bed, she associated it with the feelings of being in a fight. When I saw her in the morning we were not fighting, but it still had the atmosphere of a fight. I went out of my way to tell her that it wasn’t anything personal and that it was unintentional. I think she understood but that shoulder sure was chilly.

As a guy, it is so easy for me to blow something like this off. In fact many times I do. Because the things that make my wife feel insecure don’t even register on my scale. But as a husband and a father…it is my job to make sure those things matter. I’m sure at a rational level Jill is at peace, but that’s not good enough for me. I want her to wake up at 2am, see that I’m next to her, and feel totally safe. That’s what matters. So for now on, falling asleep on the couch is reserved for really really big fights.

optimist vs. pessimist

2008-01-20T22:02:00.000-08:00

If you guys haven't already figured this out, Jill and I are different in so many ways. Don't misread this, I love my wife a million times over, but we are definitely uniquely wired. Some of it is just gender difference, but other stuff is personality differences. One thing that most people don't know about us is that I'm generally the pessimist and Jill is generally the optimist. Jill always sees the glass half full and I see it half empty. Which is really weird because I'm usually the dreamer and Jill is the realist. Strange, huh. I think I can attribute this to a couple of factors.
1. Jill puts an amazing amount of faith in people. Sometimes I get frustrated by this because I feel that she is being naive...like I somehow have the right to tell her who to trust. But she doesn't see it as naivety, she believes in trusting people until they give you a reason not to trust them. This may frustrate me at times, but this is also what makes her so good at loving people.
2. I need proof. I like facts and numbers. These are the things that keep my mind in order. Without them, I can feel lost in a situation. Somebody can tell me a true statement, but it's not true in my mind until I can tangible "hold on" to something. Sometimes it feels arrogant to be this way. I wish I didn't always need proof.

Jill loves getting stuff for free. She is a deal hunter. In our old neighborhood, we would have large trash pickup on the first Monday of the month. Jill would drive the block looking for stuff to pickup. She would come home with a packed trunk and show off her treasures. Jill the optimist sees a treasure, Mark the pessimist sees the trash. When Jill and I first got married she would always get phone calls about sitting through these time share presentations and getting a free gift in the end. I would always say, "it's a scam, I'm not going." It seemed ridiculous to get such a big gift for sitting through a 90 minute presentation. In fact, I remember her talking on the phone and signing us up for an appointment. I just sat in the background and yelled, "I'm not going, hang up the phone. I'm not going, hang up the phone." This would always bum Jill out. I can't tell you how many times Jill has signed up for the these time share things, but I've always refused going because it's obviously a scam. Until...one day...I saw Israel's Macbook Pro.

One day Israel told me that a friend of his got a Macbook Pro for free by signing up for these offer things. Mark the pessimist said, "that's great Israel, go for it and let me know how it turns out. (wink wink)" Israel went to the website, signed up for the offers and three months later I'm staring at his Macbook...for free, did I tell you that part. (the website actually discontinued the offer because so many people were doing it) Israel the optimist, a laptop. Mark the pessimist, no laptop. Israel...laptop. Mark...no laptop.

So Israel gets a phone call about a time share presentation and signs up immediately. When asked if he wants to refer anybody, he gives them Jill's name and number. So what does Jill do you ask? Our appointment was Saturday at 12:30. And for the first time ever, I said I would go. I don't know if you remember but I was feeling inspired by, Israel...laptop, Mark...no laptop. I thought to myself, what do I have to lose, I'll give it a try. So we politely sat through the whole presentation. At the very end the "closer" came in to make the deal. He showed us the numbers and tried working his magic, but we held strong and declined the offer. Before I knew it, we were being walked down the hallway to pick up our gift. Was it really that easy? A lady handed us an envelope and said, "inside is your voucher for 2 nights in San Diego, 2 passes to sea world, and a 100 dollar gift card. Do you have any questions?" The moral of the story; Mark the optimist...trip to San Diego. Mark the pessimist...another weekend sitting at home. I think the optimist will enjoy life a little more.

I thought you were my friend

2008-01-17T20:56:00.000-08:00

Websters Dictionary defines friend as
1 a: one attached to another by affection or esteem 2 a: one that is not hostile b: one that is of the same nation, party, or group3: one that favors or promotes (as a charity)4: a favored companion
Websters Dictionary defines enemy as
1: one that is antagonistic to another; especially : one seeking to injure, overthrow, or confound an opponent2: something harmful or deadly 3 a: a military adversary b: a hostile unit or force

Yesterday was one of the most disappointing days of my life. I feel like I have made efforts to build strong, healthy, and meaningful relationships. I have so many friends I can be honest with. It's one of the greatest joys of my life. But yesterday was hard because I found out that somebody I love dearly has completely stabbed me in the back. It's not even something he wishes to take back. What's worst of all, he did it right in front of my face. I asked my friend Nole to vote on my poll, in reference to my "Help Me Decide" posting. This is something very important to me because there are serious consequences. Because he's such a close friend, I assumed he would side with me. Well you know what assuming does. Before I can blink an eye he has voted to give Jill back her minutes. I was so hurt, I called him out on it. Do you know what he said to me..."Don't be a bitch." Nole, I thought you were a "favored companion" but really you are one that is "antagonistic seeking to injure and overthrow." You know what, I didn't get stabbed in the back, I got stabbed in the heart.

Help Me Decide

2008-01-15T22:10:00.000-08:00

I've been married for almost 10 years now. When I was 18 that seemed like an eternity but being on the other side I wonder how the time has gone so fast. Over the course of our marriage we have had our disagreements...some big, some small. But the ones that always used to frustrate me were the disputes that have an actual answer.

Exhibit A: Israel's brother Zack spent three months working with me on an investment property last year. Jill would work with us on occasion, but most of the work was Zack and myself. We would start in the morning and leave around 2pm. We never took a lunch break but I would always buy him lunch on the way home. I always took him to established fast food places like panda express and Carl's Jr. On the occasions that Jill would buy him lunch, she always took him to less mainstream places like Armando's and Rolberto's. A dispute arose when Jill claimed that Zack "hated" eating at my places but "loved" her hole-in-the-wall joints. What is the best way to settle a dispute as such? With one simple phrase, "I smell a bet." We both hate giving massages but love getting them, so we wager on massage minutes. The dispute is then settle when we asked Zack, "whose lunch do you like better?"

Exhibit B: Jill once claimed that I could do a prostate exam topically. I told her it is impossible and it has to be a rectal exam. She refuted my claim with the justification that she "saw it on Oprah with Dr. Oz." What did I say, "I smell a bet." That massage felt great.

So here is where the dilemma comes in. The biggest bet Jill and I ever had went down like this. We were driving down 7th street and got stopped at the light on Roosevelt. I looked at the Quizno's and said "I wonder when they are going to open their drive thru." Jill responded with, "they don't have a drive thru." "Well, they have a drive thru but it just isn't operational." "Mark, I was just there yesterday and there is no drive thru." "I smell a bet." This is the biggest wager we had ever made. The light turned green and the tension was mounting as we rounded the corner. It was kind of dark outside, but what was waiting there in the misty moon light you ask...a glorious, spectacular, perfectly paved, drive thru. I could instantly feel the tension in my neck being soothed. I busted out with a "Do you smell that, its the sweet aroma of victory." I made sure to redeem my minutes that night.

But I have a confession to make. I found out today that the drive thru doesn't actually belong to Quizno's but to the coffee shop on the north side of the building. Oops, my bad. This is terrible news because when Jill finds out I'm screwed. Part of me wants to keep it a secret, but the other part feels it is unethical to withhold this information. Jill is probably going to read this tomorrow and give me crap. I need to set something up so I can protect my rights. This is where you guys come in...I'm taking a poll to figure out how to rectify the botched wager. Please take the poll and help me decide. The poll will end in seven days. Thank you.

Confusion about "Maybe"

2008-01-13T08:58:00.000-08:00

So I woke up this morning and Jill saw that I was on my blog. She said to me, "I didn't get your last post. (If you haven't read it, read that one first) That last paragraph was confusing." I laughed a little and said "really?" I thought I was being clever by coming up with this awesome metaphor. You all know, I love speaking my thoughts in story form. I started it off with the story about the song. Then it lead into our fight while linking the emotions to the first paragraph. The final paragraph was a response to the fight while using the song story to relay my thoughts and feelings. I thought it was a smart post until my wife read it and said "I didn't get your last post." Does anybody see the irony? So it comes down to this, I feel my wife is saying, "if you want to say something to me, just say it." Here's what I should have told her the first time without the metaphor/story and sincerity in my heart...I'm sorry, and I'll try to do better. (I think I might like that one better. Maybe.)

Maybe

2008-01-12T19:37:00.001-08:00

Have you ever listened to a song and thought, “This is the most power piece of imagery I have ever heard.” The colors, the texture, the lyrics, the tone, the hook…it’s all perfect. You walk away from that experience thirsty for more. And when you hear it for a second time, it still has the power to bring you to your knees. Then in a frenzy of excitement you share it with somebody you love. They pause, they listen, then they respond with something like this, “It’s okay, I don’t really get it…it’s not really my style.” How could someone not see it the way I do? They are obviously missing this song’s true intentions. This same person might show you a piece of art that inspires them and you don’t feel a thing. How can two people experience the same thing and have such opposing perspectives?

Jill and I recently got into a heated discussion, okay a fight, about something along these lines. In marriage, spouses have expectations of how they want their loved one to respond to them. If one is sad, the other is expected to express sympathy. If one is insecure, the other is expected to encourage. If one is lonely, the other is expected to be a companion. This is where the fight ensues. What happens when one person says, “I’m upset at you because I’ve been sitting here sad, insecure, and lonely…and you haven’t done a thing.” Then in a blank look of confusion, the other person responds with, “what are you talking about? All I’ve done for the last two weeks is listen and encourage.” Thus both having the same experiences but have opposing perspectives.

So this is where all my mental gymnastics has brought me. Maybe the person that was deeply impacted by the song shouldn’t be so quick to believe that all others will hear what they hear. Maybe that song was destined to shape one life and only one. Maybe the listening ear should count it a blessing that the other has found a song as such. And just maybe the goal of relationships isn’t to only share the song that impacts oneself, but rather to find the song that impacts the other. Maybe.

Interview #3 Drea

2008-01-10T08:21:00.000-08:00

So some of you may be surprised that Drea is my third interview. I've always got to keep you guessing. Drea is a person that I have known for years. Being in a close group of friends, we hang out together, she watches our kids, I work with her every week, our group has gone on multiple trips together, but I don't really know her. So these are the questions and answers I may have missed out on in the last 5 years.

If you could ask God one question and get an audible response,what would it be?
There would be a thousand questions about the world and the Bible, but since it’s my interview I can be selfish and a selfish question… What are the things you love about me?

What makes you laugh?
I laugh every time I hear my niece, Maggie laugh. It gets me every time. I could sit for hours with her and make her laugh and smile. It is also my favorite sound in the whole wide world. It is the purest sound I know.

Describe what you think your future husband will be like.
I have actually been asking myself this question a lot the past few days. A man who follows after the heart of God. A man who won’t settle for status quo. I want a man full of spontaneity. I want a man who will tell me this, “grab your bag, we’ll buy whatever you need when we get there.” Finally, sense of humor is big for me. We are on this journey together and if we can’t laugh, then we’re just traveling together, listening to Michael Bolton and that won’t fly with me!

If he's reading this right now, what are two things you want to say to him?
Where in the heck have you been?!?I’m really sorry about my brothers.

What does falling in love look like?
I’d be a liar if I say if I knew. The best I can do is describe it in one of my favorite songs…
I won't let my forever roam
and now I hope I can find my forever a home
so give me your forever
please your forever
not a day less will do from you

What is one thing you want people to forget about you?
Please forget the fact that I might not have talked to you. It’s not that I’m rude or snobbish; it’s just that I’m at a loss for words or simply I’m just too shy. It’s a fact about myself I hate and am trying to change. If I didn’t say hello to you, I did notice you and that new haircut, and that new purse you are carrying(which is fabulous by the way!)

What do you day dream about?
I dream about quiting my job, traveling the world and shopping. How materialistic is that?!? I hope that my day dreams turn into something more prosperous like healing the sick, seeing the lost saved, or having my car paid off.

What keeps you awake at night?
Fear. Fear that I won’t ever become what God has intended for me life. Fear that I have missed out because of my insecurities or lack of faith.

What is the best gift you have ever given?
When Kati was pregnant with Maggie, I searched for the perfect gift to give to Kati so she could have something to wear during her last few weeks of pregnancy. As most pregnant woman know, your last few weeks, you don’t feel beautiful or stylish, well I wanted my sister to feel all those things, so I bought her the perfect gift…leather maternity pants. REAL leather maternity pants. The best part about this gift, they have now been passed down to other pregnant friends. So the leather maternity pants will continue their glorious destiny of making pregnant woman feel stylish. (As long as someone doesn’t tell them that 1986 called and they want their leather pants back!)

Why did you pick video production as a major?
I had this vision of directing movies in Hollywood and winning Oscars and thanking all the little people as I walked across the stage in my fabulous dress, but reality set in. I wanted to create a way to show God through a different medium. I felt I had this creativity in me that was laying dormant.

If you could change one thing in your personality, what would it be?
I find myself to be a wee bit introverted. I see the likes of you, and the other great conversationalists who put themselves out there all for the sake of the perfect joke or the idyllic story. When I would plan the perfect joke or idyllic story, I get lost in the translation in my head. I won’t be able to get it all out the way I have it planned in my head. So I play the shy card and hope that it gets me farther in life.

What was the biggest sibling fight you got in during high school?
I never really fought with my sisters in high school, but when I was in 4th or 5th grade I was standing by the refrigerator and my younger sister, Camilla, was complaining to me about something. She wouldn’t get out of the way of the fridge,so in a moment of fleeting anger I punched her in the stomach. Mind you, this was the first moment of true violence I had toward my sister. It wasn’t premeditated but it felt amazing to punch someone. To this day, she brings up this story, how I “knocked the wind” out of her and something to the effect of her “not being able to breathe.” For me it was sweet release of years of younger sister angst.

What is the one word/phrase that makes you smile?
I’m Ron Bergundy??

That's why she's my wife

2008-01-08T15:14:00.000-08:00

When I was in high school I was a basketball nut. I wore all the clothes. I had the special shoes. I would even sleep with my basketball on the night stand. I was obsessed with practicing and playing as much as possible. I was never a great player but I would have considered myself better than average. (I had some sweet post moves.) Anybody who played back in the day knew that the Cave Creek sports complex was the place to be. (It's now called the Rose Mofford sports complex) It has a ton of outdoor courts where guys, and the occasional girl, can always find a pick up game. On any given night there might have been 100-150 guys ready to lace up. I probably played there at least two nights a week. I honestly can't remember many experiences I had there, but I remember the feelings. I remember the sensation of success, knowing that I won all 5 games that night. I remember being angry that I didn't stick up for myself. I remember having regrets that I got into a fight. But there is one feeling that I remember most vividly. When I would have a really bad night (which was rare because I was so awesome, he he), I remember driving home trying to let go of all my frustration. And I knew the only thing that would take my frustration away was to talk to my friend Jill. I would literally console myself with the idea of talking to my best friend. (for those that don't know, Jill and I were only friends in high school and didn't start dating till college) So yesterday was one of those rough basketball nights...just a bunch of ups and downs. It's nothing unusual, just a part of life. I was driving home and couldn't stop thinking about the day...my head was spinning. Then like a wave, a rush came over me. I had a sense of calm and steadiness. It was a feeling very similar to the one I had back in high school. I was consoled with this one thought...I know that at the end of the day, no matter what happens, I get to go home to my friend Jill. That's why we talked on the phone so much, that's why I miss her when she's gone, that's why she's my wife.

Not a big one, just a simple reminder one

2008-01-06T22:36:00.000-08:00

A couple of months back I had a conversation with a friend of mine about onePlace. Kurt is a guy I have a lot of respect for and was a pretty influential person in our community. He had even lead a small group at one point where he wrote the entire curriculum. But during this conversation he had mentioned how he had decided to make another church his home church. The main reason is because its a church that a couple of his mentors go to. I made sure to tell him that I totally understand...its nothing personal. After I hung up the phone I found myself being a little jealous. Jealous of the freedom to come and go without the responsibility of putting anything together, to learn and not teach, to sit in one seat and not have to move around. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I love meeting new people, I love to worship, I love connecting, I absolutely love our community. It doesn't happen very often but every once in a while I just want to sit at home and watch The Amazing Race...or something of the sort. But being in ministry, I've forfeited that right. Don't get me wrong, I've taken Sunday's off, just never when I'm in town. So tonight I was going through the motions like every other Sunday. Set up the sound, set up stations, talk to kev about service, make fun of Israel, etc. The service started it's usual 20 minutes late. (which never bothers me, but it kind of did tonight...crazy, what does that mean?) Israel started into his third worship song when I had a moment. Not a big one, just a simple reminder one. The first verse of the song goes like this.
We are here, Because of grace, Because of love
We are here, Because of You, Because of You
Ah yes, the most beautiful and simple of reminders, being in ministry is not because it's always pleasing and rewarding. I'm in this because I found something amazing...and it's impossible for me to turn away from. I may have forfeited my rights, but it's because of grace and because of love. I pray that never changes.

A New Year / My Wife is Home

2008-01-02T10:36:00.000-08:00

So this one is a two part-er.

part 1: A New Year
Once again Nelson and his crew have pulled off another amazing new years party. These are the best parties I have ever been to. The atmosphere is amazing, the music is on point, and it's set up in a way to make everyone comfortable. What makes these gatherings so amazing is the people I get to hang out with. I've got some of the greatest friends in the whole world. Through out the night I would ask different people to make a toast. Almost everyone started off by mentioning the great relationships we have. They're not perfect friendships, just meaningful ones...what more could I ask for on the beginning of the new year?

Part2: My wife is home
Yesterday my wife woke me up at 9:30am. She just wanted to let me sleep in a little after having to wake up early for the last few days. (what she doesn't know is, when jett would wake me up at 7...I would give him milk and crackers, turn a show on, and fall asleep on the couch. I would always tell him, "wake me up if you need something." One time he did wake me up and I told him, "jett, I'm sleeping, can this wait?") As I slowly arise I notice that the bedroom is all cleaned up. And what is that that I hear in the back ground, it is the sweet hum of the washing machine. Jill came back into the bedroom and said, "did you get enough sleep?" "yah, thanks." "I've got fresh made apple juice for you in the fridge." Ah yes, welcome to the good life. Watching Jett by myself was an adventure. We had so much fun going on bike rides, wrestling, and eating like crap. But spending these few days alone has made me realize how much work Jill does. I don't think I fully appreciate her and it's time I start telling her more often. I have seen the light and it is good.

Eating with My Left Hand

2007-12-29T17:06:00.000-08:00

Have you ever tried eating with just your left hand (or your right hand if your left is the dominant hand)? It's really awkward. For some reason, if you have a knife in your right hand it feels natural. But if you only use your left hand to eat, you look like a new born giraffe trying to walk. Well, my wife went on a trip yesterday with Kati and Drea to Kansas City. That means I got Jett all to myself for the next few days. I feel like that amateur trying to eat with my left hand.

Jill is such an awesome mom. If our family was a business, Jill would be the operating manager, the project manger, the director of quality control, the secretary, and the consulting director for standard operating procedures. I'm the guy that got hired because I'm related to the owner. I sit in cubical number 14 playing online poker and I'm constantly being accused of stealing other employees lunches out of the work fridge. Well, not the entire lunch, just the juices boxes and ho ho's. I once turned in a reimbursement receipt for a Nintendo wii claiming it would better my typing skills. Everybody in the office hates me because my sales numbers are always weak but yet I drive a H2. What gives?

Suddenly the boss is out of town and now I'm in charge. Am I drunk with power...? I should be but I'm not. I feel a sense of responsibility of not ruining the family business. I'm trying, but I'm just not as good as Jill. Out of 6 possible meals, Jett and I have eaten out or ordered out for uuummm...ALL SIX meals. The money from those 6 meals would be 2 weeks of groceries in Jill's hands. The house is a tornado, we're eating like crap, and Jett has watched more TV in the last 36 hours than he has in the last year. When is Jill coming home?

This morning Jett and I went to IHOP f0r breakfast. We shared a booth and used the crayons to color trees and buffaloes. Jett got a cheeseburger and fries, I got the steak and eggs. Once our food came, Jett nudged over and was sitting so close I could barely move my right arm. I was so uncomfortable I finally asked him to scoot over a little. He said to me, "Daddy, I want to snuggle with you." He leaned his head down and wedged it between my arm and body. I had no choice but to put my arm around him and hold him close. And that is how we sat for the rest of our breakfast. You know what I learned, I need to start eating with my left hand more often.

But There Was Always One

2007-12-27T09:51:00.000-08:00

I can still remember when I was a kid waking up on Christmas morning. Usually it was around 4am when I would run to the living room and tear through my stocking. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual bmx magazine, skater stickers, and candy. It's the perfect remedy to hold over a restless kid for a few more hours. (my mom knew what she was doing) I would go through present by present separating out the ones that had my name on them. Part of the fun was the anticipation, guessing what each one could be. Then the moment was finally a reality, all the waiting and guessing would turn to discovery and excitement. But there was always one...one present that would stand above the rest. One year it was my BMX predator, another year it was a Nintendo. Whatever it was, it provided endless hours of enjoyment. But as I got older the thrill would start to fade. Presents didn't provide hours of entertainment, I started to sleep in more, and my one special present had transitioned from a bike to a home depot gift certificate.

All of that to say, this year there was something I got that stood above the rest. It almost brings me back to the days of my youth. It provides discovery, excitement, and hours of entertainment. This is going to seem anti-climatic, but my special gift was a letter from my wife. My wife wrote me a letter when we were dating and I always kept it in my wallet. It stayed in there for years until it literally disintegrated in the leather. Every once in a while I would pull it out and read the words that revealed my girlfriend's love. Whenever I needed the encouragement the letter would always make me smile. This year my wife wrote me a new letter to go in my wallet. I'm sure I will read it hundreds of times like the previous, I'm sure it will fade over years, I'm sure one day it will be gone. But until the day my wife writes me a new one, it is the one present that stands above the rest.

I'm honest enough to share the down times in my marriage, so I want to be honest enough to share the good as well. Here is a portion of the letter:
"...You are the most loyal of friends anyone could have. Your core spirit of generosity is infectious and has changed who I am today. I love your talents and your constant striving for new things, that you are not afraid. I love that you will pass that amazing gift onto our children. I love the way you love our kids. (even when it's too much in their space :) ) Dylan knows that his father loves him with all that he has - what else does he need..."

Jill, I'm humbled that you would say such kind things to me. I love you for it.

Merry Christmas

2007-12-25T20:34:00.000-08:00

Merry Merry Christmas, I pray you all had a blessed day.

Quote of the day:
"God is in charge, then you mommy"
-My son Dylan Jett, age 3

How true, he couldn't have said it any better.

Interview #2 Nole

2007-12-22T15:21:00.000-08:00

So my second interview is with my friend Nole Kennedy. Nole is one of my best friends...he's full of life and tells the best stories. Ironically we became better friends after he moved to Oregon. This interview is a long one...Nole doesn't give generic answers. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Enjoy, you might be next.

> Tell me about the moment when you knew you would marry carrie.
This is a really good question, and I don't know if there is a definite answer. I remember being on tour and the van braking down and being stranded in the middle of nowhere in Colorado. Carrie and I were talking on the phone and sorta got in an argument about me being away and tour and whatnot. As were were arguing and I sorta just felt like it was a turning point. Either we were going to break up right then or I was going to marry her. After our conversation, I took a little hike by a river and just remember crying at the thought of not being with her. It really rocked me to even think about it. I guess right then I knew that I had to be with her forever.

> Why the drums?
Actually, I really, really wanted to play the saxophone. When my mom went to the band meeting at my elementary school, she talked with the band director and learned that renting a sax was over $40 a month while renting a snare drum was $10. Knowing that as a hyper fourth grader I struggled to commit to anything for a long time, she opted for the cheaper instrument without my consent. When she came home and told me, I cried and cried and cried. But in thinking about it, how could I play anything but the drums?

> What makes you laugh?
Alot of things. The Office, Mitch Hedburg, my students, my wife. But overall, the thing that makes me laugh the most is sharing stories and memories with people.

> What makes you cry?
Alot of things. Extreme home make over, the war, missing my family/ friends, true to life movies. But overal, the thing that makes me cry the most is thinking about how lucky I am in life compared to so many others.

> What do you daydream about?
I day dream mostly about being a dad. It is really scary to think about for me, so I guess I am constantly thinking about what this going to be like.

> If you weren't a teacher you would be doing what?
If I wasn't married (and therefore wanting to be at home) I'd be a musician still. If I was married, but couldn't be a teacher, I guess I'd like to work as a music/movie critic; thought I know that would probably be unlikely. If I had to pick something likely, I'd probably be doing construction.

> What was your first impression of me?
This is a great question. I remember instantly liking you a lot; but honestly, I kinda remember thinking that your musical taste was limited. Looking back, I think I was really arrogant and thought I was so much better than everyone because I liked "underground" music and played in this really cool band. I guess I was kinda an a-hole.

> Why did we become better friends after you moved away?
Such a great question, and one I wonder about. I mean, we were friends before (hanging out at Journey, going out after church, and you married me and Carrie!) but I agree that after I moved we became even closer than before. I think that had to do with the fact that I really didn't want to lose you as a friend, so I just made sure to call you a lot. Also, I think that while I was in Phoenix, it was easy to not make a large effort to stay in your daily life because I knew that I would see you at church and whatnot. But now, living so far away, I know that if we don't make the effort, we wont see each other often enough to stay close friends.

> If you could make yourself change in one way, what would it be?
I think it would be my mouth. Not literally (though I do have huge lips), but figuratively. Sometimes I commandeer conversations and talk too much. I don't intentionally try be rude, but sometimes I look back at a conversation and realize that I talked the entire time and no one else got a word it. It sucks. Also, sometimes I can be very cutting and rude with my words, especially to Carrie. I hate that about my self.

> If you could go back in time and give yourself advice, what would it be?
To invest in an online poker site. No really, I think I would tell myself to try and learn to not talk so much.

> Tell me a funny story about teaching.
One day I got a new Pac-Man game for my work computer. I had read online that the top score was over a million points and I was determined to beat that score. So, decided to give my students busy work (that they could do in small groups) and set to demolishing that record. I literally played every minute of the every period. I was getting close to the high score, and just could not stop playing. Toward the end of the last period, my principal walked in the room to see what we were doing, but I was so focused on my game I didn't even notice. He walked around the room chatting with kids and seeing what they were working on. He must have been in my room for a full four minutes with out me noticing. Then he walked up to my desk (and could only see the back of my computer) and said, "Keep up the good work." And then he turned and walked out. I was shocked and couldn't believe that he didn't notice. I was about to get up and actually start teaching, but then I decided that the chances of my boss coming back in were slim to none, so I just keep on playing!

> If you were to write a love letter to carrie right now, what would the first two sentences be? You are my life. Without you, I simply could not go on.

Happy Birthday Jill

2007-12-20T07:35:00.000-08:00

Today is Jill's birthday and I thought I would dedicate this post to her. Here is an excerpt from an email I sent about 3 months ago. I still feel the same today as I did then.

"...You are the love of my life. You’re the only lover I have ever known, and I am your’s. Nobody knows me better, you’re the one I talk to when I lay in bed. You’re so patient with all my flaws…my impulsiveness, my strong will, my selfishness. You deserve so much better but I thank God we are together. You are an amazing mother. Any good parenting I know was learned from you. I love the way you kiss our kids…and I love it when you kiss me. You’re the person I want to grow old with. My favorite memory of you (I have a billion, but this is a new one) the moment Cadence was born, she grabbed your finger and put it to her face. I have never seen you so happy. It makes me cry..."

Happy Birthday Jill

My New Truck

2007-12-19T12:15:00.000-08:00

Today I officially bought the little white truck from Israel. It's a lot different from the last vehicle I owned, a new BMW. I loved that car. It was my dream car as a kid and pleasure to own as an adult. It had leather interior, run flat tires, individual climate control, infinity sound, sun roof, adaptive steering, and a v6 235hp engine. What could be wrong with this car? Nothing...except for me driving it. Driving a BMW represents success, superior quality, and status. These are all things that are used to further separate the elite from the marginalized. As a Christ follower, it is hard for me to own something that symbolizes power, wealth, and pride when I feel that I'm called to servitude, generosity, and humility. Getting rid of my BMW was a process necessary for me to live with humility and non-materialism. The sad thing is, this is my third time going through this. (I previously sold a wrangler and a Harley truck going through the same period of reflection...hopefully this time it sticks) My new truck, a 96 Chevy s10, has a 4 cylinder engine, cloth seats with a seat cover, no radio, power nothing, and a slight oil leak. What could be right with this truck? Nothing...except for me driving it.

Pet Peeve

2007-12-17T17:27:00.000-08:00

I'm not a gambler. I play poker. That is my biggest pet peeve. Many people can't make the distinction because they don't understand the game. Even by writing about poker, many will think I'm a hypocrite and in desperate need of an intervention. Honestly, I don't like talking about poker in public. I fear that I'll be judged. Playing poker is not about being lucky, it's about understanding statistics and human behavior. The better you are at math and psychology, the better you will perform. Opening a new restaurant or being a day trader is gambling, what I do isn't nearly as risky. I told my mom that I pray that God helps me make good decisions before I play and she about had a heart attack. You should have seen the look on her face. I named my blog "as honest as I can be" and this is who I am. If you happen to remember, can you please not call me a gambler?

Two Things from Tonight

2007-12-15T20:12:00.000-08:00

I feel like it's been forever since I've blogged last. I know it's only been four days but I've missed doing this. We celebrated my wife's birthday tonight at her sister's house. Getting the families together is always nuts because my nephew and Jett are little tornadoes. They jump and crash with reckless abandon. It's actually kind of fun to watch at times and other times you just want to kick them in the knees so they stop moving. Two things stood out to me tonight.

First, this is the first time my father in law has looked old to me. Marty is a man among men. Not with stature, but with character and amazing work ethic. Marty is the guy that kicked my butt hiking up Squaw Peak just to put me in my place. Marty is the guy who has hiked the Canyon every year for the last 20 years (and never trains). Marty is the guy who can hang sheet rock on the ceiling with one hand and drill with the other. Tonight was the first time I noticed the wrinkles under his eyes. All of these feats that make him superhuman are starting to take its toll. It's a sign of how fast life passes by and there is nothing I can do to slow it down.

Second, Jill got a book from her sister. She started reading through some of the pages and paused for a moment. She handed me the booked and simply pointed at quote. It reads
I believe in the sun even when it isn't shining
I believe in love even when I am alone
I believe in God even when He is silent
(Graffiti found in 1945 on the wall of a basement in Koln, Germany, where a Jewish believer had been hiding from the Gestapo)
Sometimes my faith is so weak. I wish I were more like this man.

it will continue unless

2007-12-11T11:43:00.000-08:00

I'm kind of a science nerd. Has anybody ever thought about rust? Rust is the product of water breaking down iron. When the oxygen in water combines with iron, it starts to corrode. It's a very slow and steady process. How can such a small element deteriorate such a strong product like iron? And it lives like a disease, once the oxygen has started the corrosion process, it will continue unless all the rust is removed. I haven't been sleeping well lately. It's been hard for me to fall asleep. My fear is that I still haven't fully dealt with my son's death and that the corrosion process has begun. I thought Cadence would fix some of my fears, but that hasn't quite happened. I think I've avoided the hard conversation with God and I've also avoided answering the even harder questions. This isn't something I'll probably talk about again.

"Hey Daddy"

2007-12-09T09:57:00.000-08:00

This morning I was in the mood for a Loaded Breakfast Burrito from Carl's Jr. I have a thing for unhealthy breakfasts. Cadence was taking a nap and Jill was getting ready to, so I asked Jett if he wanted to go with me to CJ. He always says yes because I usually buy him something like french fries or a shake. A small price to pay for good company. On the way there we had an interesting conversation. I'll replay it for you. (If you guys don't know, Jett just turned 3)

Jett: hey daddy
Me: yah, jett
Jett: where's my crackers
Me: sorry man, i think they're on the floor
Jett: hey daddy
Me: yah bud
Jett: i want to go to the zoo
Me: we can't today, we have to go to church later
Jett: why do we have to go to church
Me: because we get to learn about God
Jett: God...?
Me: yep, we learn about how much He loves us
Jett: daddy
Me: yah bud
Jett: where's God?
(i pause for a few seconds)
Me: Well, He's not a person, but He's all around us
Jett: around us?
Me: i'm sorry bud, i wish i could explain it better
Jett: it's okay
Jett: hey daddy
Me: yah bud
Jett: is God in the dark? (Jett's referring to when he's scared)
Me: yah bud, when you're scared and in the dark, God's with you
Jett: yah

Those are the moments I feel so inadequate as a father. I wish I would have thought through these questions before hand...seizing the moment with meaningful and digestible answers. This makes me want to do better. But as I type this, my son is sitting next to me playing with the matchbox cars I used to play with as a kid. I love that my son likes being close to me...because I love being close to him. These are the moments I cherish, this is what makes being a father so satisfying. As long as I work hard at this, I think I'll get more shots at meaningful and digestible answers.

I take it back

2007-12-07T22:11:00.000-08:00

So yesterday I was looking on the Cruise America website and found an amazing deal. Cruise America is a RV rental company with locations all across the US. All the RVs need to come to Mesa for maintenance each year. To get these Recreational Vehicles across the country they give people killer deals to travel one way from a given destination to Mesa Arizona. Well this works out for me because it would only cost me a one-way ticket and gas money.

I love traveling by RV...I mean LOVE. I've done it a couple of times and it's a blast. "Hey Jill, can you make me a sandwich?" "Go ahead a throw a hot pocket in the microwave." "Israel, did you use all the hot water in the shower?" These are all things I have said while driving down the interstate...literally. It's a vehicle and yet all the comforts of home...a beautiful relationship. I mentioned it to Jill and she wasn't nearly as excited as I was. Jill asked, "When would we have to travel?" "Ahhh, next week....?" I don't have to tell you how the rest of the conversation went. It was a mixed salad of, too soon, great deal, too busy, be spontaneous, what about work, it's something we could do as a family, the holidays, etc.

At the end of the conversation I found myself being very frustrated. I was having thoughts that went something like this. "I just wish my wife would embrace spontaneity." "I wish for once she would just say, let's go for it." "I wish she were more like me." Now that I've had time to think, I take it back. I don't want her to be like me. Two of me would be a disaster...an out of control disaster. Jill let's me get away with a ton, more than what I deserve. None of my friends have the freedom I have and yet I still want more.

Here's my observation. My marriage is like the RV. Jill is the vehicle...practical, necessary, stable, gets you moving ahead, etc. I'm the recreation...place to chill, cushy bed, card table for games, etc. Together they make for a pretty exciting life. But something interesting, the vehicle doesn't need the recreation, but the recreation needs the vehicle...without the vehicle, it would go no where. Too much recreation without enough vehicle makes for a pretty selfish life that doesn't go anywhere...not the kind I want to live.

Interview #1 My Wife

2007-12-06T10:13:00.000-08:00

So I've decided to do a series of interviews with the people close to me. I'll try to make them personal and interesting. Be warned...an email of questions might be coming your way. I thought I would start with the one closest to me. My wife

Full Name?
Jill Eileen Roberts

Age?
Age 30…almost 31

What did you want to be as a kid?
As a kid I wanted to be a nurse or counselor

Something that makes you laugh?
Dylan, usually at least once a day I crack up with him about something he says or does.

Something that makes you cry?
Our son Lincoln.

Something you day-dream about?
something I day dream about…this is a tough one, you know me mark…I’m not a dreamer…I’ll come back to this. Sadly enough I can’t think of anything, I guess that is why I am married to you…you dream extravagantly enough for the both of us.

First kiss?
my first kiss was you mark, unless you count when I was a little kid I used to kiss my one friends little brother to get them to leave us alone.

What do you regret?
I regret that I was and am too self conscious to try new things

If you were forced to move, where would you go?
if I were forced to move I would move to Portland

If you could change one thing about me, what would it be?
if I could change one thing about you it would be that you would pick up after yourself!

A smell that makes you smile?
a smell that makes me smile is eternity for men. You used to wear it in high school and it brings back good memories.

How did you know we would get married?
I knew we would get married as soon as we started dating because I felt safe.

Favorite wedding memory?
my favorite wedding memory is standing in the back behind the doors waiting to walk down the aisle with my dad. I was so nervous and excited.

Describe what it feels like to be in love?
what does it feel like to be in love…some days it feels amazing, like I couldn’t image life being any other way than it is at this very moment. It feels like security and full acceptance of who I am. Other days it is a choice. I know I am loved and that I love you…but sometimes I don’t “feel” like it.

Favorite picture?
the 2 favorite pictures that come to my mind off hand are for 2 different reasons. The first is one of you and Dylan wrestling on the bed in our arrowhead house. When I look at the picture I can hear the squeals of laughter and fun. The other picture is one of me holding Lincoln, even now thinking about it brings tears to me. Lincoln was crying and I was bringing him close to comfort him. It is a picture of perfect love between a mother and child…a lot of my raw emotions were captured in that picture.

What do you want for Christmas?
what I want for Christmas is a piece of jewelry that represents cadence.

30 minute post

2007-12-03T21:06:00.000-08:00

So I've titled this one the 30 minute post. I'm forcing myself to stop typing after 30 minutes. Reason being, my blog entries have been taking too long. It takes me about 1 hour to write one paragraph. "Here's to Errol" took about 3 hours. That is no exaggeration. I love doing this but I think I have learned a few things about myself.

1. My desire to tell a good story has turned me into a perfectionist. I'm not a details person at all. But I have a strong desire for my blog to be interesting. I find myself re-reading my entry 7 or 8 times and constantly making revisions. I restructure sentences to make sure they make sense. And still at times, they don't make sense. I'm always inserting details that might give better imagery. All of this because...I want people to approve of my blog. My desire for perfection roots itself in my desire for acceptance.

2. I'm not a very good typer. I leave words missing and misspell words all the time. I don't want others to think I'm a remedial writer, so I comb over everything for mistakes. I was in the slow class for comprehension when I was little. I think it still bothers me at some level. Just to get over my own insecurities, I'm not going to do a spellcheck. [here's the sad thing, I said I wasn't going to spellcheck and I still did.]

3. I truly desire to be honest and real. Sometimes I type things that don't sound like anything that would come out of my mouth. I type it just because it sounds good, not because it lives in my heart. So I'll usually go back and reword it the way it would normally come out of my mouth. Even if it's less eloquent. It's the real me.

My desire is to share my heart with the community I love. Not because I think I have some magical words that are going to change anybody, but because the words help give definition to my thoughts. Thank you for b....

Communion and Resolution

2007-12-02T22:15:00.000-08:00

Tonight oneplace had it's annual communion feast. We don't have a ton of traditions, but this ones a goodie. The entire service was dedicated to remembering Christ's sacrifice for all. When I was young, communion was the time we got juice in plastic cups and wafers on a silver platter. I know this is a wonderful tradition for many churches and I have had many meaningful experiences in those churches. But the perks of being a pastor is that I get to retell the story using different words and different colors. The night consisted of worship, liturgy, prayer stations, a labyrinth, communion, and eating a feast. As I sat back and watched the night progress, I saw conversations filling the room, street people getting their first meal of the day, new bonds being formed, prayers being lifted to heaven, and a honest moment of remembering God's perfect grace. I sat on the edge of the stage and I remember thinking, "I love my church, how did I get to this point?" I've got the best job in the world...I get to love and serve people for a living. Thank you to all the supporters.

So here's a follow up to the fight Jill and I had last week. Things have settled and are much better now. Fights usually start off when one person says or does something that is not favorable to the other person. It can come on in an instant or it can be tension built up over time. The climax is usually when one person verbally vomits on the other person. It's not always a violent vomit, but it's still vomit. The other person doesn't like the feeling of being puked on so they retaliate by doing a little dry heaving of their own. Eventually both are standing in their own pile of vomit wondering "who's going to clean up this mess?" If one person feels that they deserved to be puked on, they'll clean up the mess (this is rare). Or if the puker believes they should have just let their stomach settle a little, they'll clean up the mess (this is rare as well). Usually what happens is two people will sit in their own vomit for a while and eventually say "this stinks, I'd rather put new clothes on". One person is put in charge of mopping and the other in charge of laundry...both taking responsibility of the mess they created together. But the most important thing to do after vomiting is brushing your teeth. Nobody likes that taste in their mouth. Cleaning up the mess is good, but cleaning the mess on your own teeth and tongue will only make your words sweeter the next time you open your mouth. Finally, the remnants of your old mess isn't on your breath any more. It's time for me to brush my teeth.

"Here's to Errol"

2007-12-01T11:44:00.000-08:00

Well, last night was simply epic. I explained a few days ago that I was throwing a re-bachelor party for an old friend. Just the idea of the party inspired the post called "Why can't you just be normal?" So here we go. I could probably write a book about the night, so I'll try to keep it brief.

The Set Up:
The key to setting the right mood for the evening is all about atmosphere. We started off by renting a 26 foot U Haul. Israel and I worked for about 3 hours and converted the entire back of the truck into a "bachelor pad". It had sofas, carpet, lighting, sound system, fans, coffee table, disco ball, a bob marley flag, a cooler with beverages, and a poster of Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison. It was near perfect. If the truck could talk it would say, "I've never felt better, let's get this party started."

The Momentum:
One by one I drove to every one's house picking people up. My phone was ringing off the hook with people saying, "when are you going to get here." With each stop the tension was building for the moment when we surprised Errol. Every time I rolled the back gate up, all the guys would scream, "aaahhh-ooohhhh". It was there way of saying welcome to the group. My last stop before Errol's was ASU West. The truck was literally rocking back and forth with sounds of laughter and wrestling. Nelson and Johnny come running in front of the U Haul waving their arms like crazy. I opened the gate one more time and it was official, this party was out of control (in a good way), something people will not soon forget.

The Heist:
We finally make it to Errol's after a hour and a half of acquiring party-goers. I get out of the truck and there is a deafening silence...a sign of the explosion to come. I knock on Errol's door and tell him it's time to go. He can see the U Haul from his front door and just starts laughing. We are both standing at the gate of the truck and I say to him, "you do the honors, go ahead and open." Errol slides the handle over and gives the gate one good push. "AAAAAAHHHHH-OOOOOHHHHH, EEERRRROOOLLLL" "It's your re-bachelor party, let's go!!!" The scene was perfect. Sam was handing him a drink, Israel was video taping, Rocky had his pants around his ankles, and everyone was mobbing him with hugs.

Short Road Trip:
We had a short drive to our first stop. The best part of driving was hearing the madness. I would pull up to a stop light and all of a sudden I hear everyone singing at the top of their lungs "no woman, no cry" by bob marley. I just laughed because I knew this ride was on point.

First Stop:
We went to one of Israel and I's old watering holes...the Fox and Hound. I parked the truck when I heard something say, "oh no, it's security." The security guy pulls up in his golf cart and looks directly in the back of the truck, then says, "I like the way you guys party...want a ride." We get into the place and start ordering food and drinks. Some are taking pictures, others playing pool, some playing golden t, but all of us sharing stories and laughing till our cheeks hurt. Every once in a while the group would spontaneously break into a chant, "ERR-OL, ERR-OL" This was our sign to raise our glasses and toast...to Errol. Now and then you would see party-goers pulling total strangers to the window and pointing out the U Haul we came in. Our waitress told me that our party was the best she had ever had...nicest and best tippers.

Getting Gas:
We stopped for gas on the way to our next stop. I think we scared all the other fellow gas pumpers, because they just stared in shear horror. I lifted the gate and everybody piled out. So here is the scene, music blasting out the back of a U Haul, guys leaning against the truck with cigars, rain pouring, and tackle football in the parking lot. It was awesome.

Road Trip 2:
This I cannot account for because I was driving, but resources tell me this ride was a rugby fest. Basically, whoever was holding the football was getting dog piled. And the football got passed A LOT.

Final Destination:
It's midnight and we arrive at our final stop. Some are confused and others know exactly where we are at. We have an entire rock climbing gym to ourselves. A good place to burn off that last bit of adrenaline. The staff was so patient with us because we were not the best listeners. I turned my back to get my harness, when I turned around, I see Israel, Kevin, and Johnny with their shirts off. I started cracking up and said, "what is this?" Kevin looked at me like I was as idiot and said, "it's shirts versus skins." Enough said.

The way home:
Everything started to settle down and everyone got home safe. With each drop off the momentum started to fade. People were getting sleepy and the music got quieter. The first person to get dropped off got hugs and cheers, but the last few only got a lazy "see ya, man." The party was coming to an end.

I never got to do a toast for Errol last night. But I have a drink right now so I'll raise my glass. Here's to Errol, to new beginnings and new adventures, to new chapters with unwritten endings, to old friends that would do anything for you, to new friends you would do anything for, to love, to hope, to laughter, here's to Errol...and here's to fire, oh wait, never mind.

Final thought, I brought the truck back this morning after a bit of cleaning. The guy went out to check the truck then came back a couple of minutes later. He showed a note to the manager and she said, "go check it again." Oh great, I did something to the ride that I'm gonna have to pay dearly for. He comes back inside and shows her the note again. She looks me dead in the eye and says, "You drove 178 miles???" I take a sigh of relief, with pride beaming across my face, I smile and say, "Yes...Yes we did."

The Naked Dream

2007-11-29T16:49:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had that dream where you're standing in line at the grocery store and notice that you're totally naked? Or maybe your in class. Or maybe your getting on a plane. You get the point. Then in the dream you have this moment of recognition...you realize that you forgot to put your clothes on. How do you forget to put your clothes on? Who knows, it's a dream. Then you're desperately trying to cover yourself up, at least all the important areas. But it's already too late, you've been exposed this whole time. I think this dream defines one of our greatest fears...being exposed, your life undressed.
If every man were to wear the sins of their past on their sleeve, which man could judge. None. I being one of those men, know the hurt of their own mistakes. I found out yesterday that somebody knew something about me that I thought was long gone...poor decisions that I made almost 7 years ago. I feel like the man in the dream. I'm trying to cover up, but it's too late, I've been exposed this whole time. My friend and I talked for a while with honesty. His response was something like this, "thank you for sharing your life with me, thank you for showing me a part of your soul." Do you know how good that feels...to not be judged and only showered with love? It's like giving warm clothes and a blanket to the guy who just realizes he's been exposed this whole time.

Luxury Item

2007-11-27T09:52:00.000-08:00

I have a luxury item that not many people have. In fact, it's extremely rare, only a small percent of the population have one. You can't buy one and there is no price tag for it. People who have one say they don't know how they lived without it for so long. Yet before they had it, they didn't feel like anything was missing. It's something you'll make sacrifices to keep, but there is always the reality that someday it might go missing. It's something most people don't think about or even strive to obtain. The hidden value is in how you take care of it. Sometimes you forget your luxury item is even there. Then in a moment, when you need it most, it's there...waiting in your driveway...offering you a....smoke?
What is this luxury item you ask, it's a best friend that lives next door. I'm so blessed to have my best friend Israel live only a few houses away. We share a truck, a fax machine, a lawnmower, and just about anything else the other person owns. Jill stops by their house on the way to the park. I go over their to borrow stove top stuffing. Israel calls about getting butter at 11:30pm. There is enough distance to have your own space, yet be close enough to call at any time and say, "hey man, what-ch you doing right now, let's go to sonic." It is the good life. But the best thing about Israel living so close, when I need time to think and vent about life, I call him up, we go get a few drinks, and we just sit around and reflect. There is no questions or judgement, just a sympathetic ear. Good, godly advice is hard to come by. Good, godly friends are even harder to come by. Good, godly friends that live a stones throw away is a total luxury item. If you don't have one of these, put it on your wish list.

PS. I'll talk more about Jill and I in days to come. It's nothing serious, just a part of married life. PSS Shannon, thanks for the kind words

half way serious

2007-11-26T21:05:00.000-08:00

For anybody in a committed relationship, do you ever have those moments where the night is going perfect...almost too perfect. There is laughter in the air. Jokes are flowing freely. Engaging conversation is easy. Then all of a sudden, one person says something that is half way serious and half way joking, but the other person only hears it being half way serious. The laughter has stopped. The jokes are more like accusations. And the conversation has turned to cold shoulder silence. How does it happen so fast? Well, right now I'm down stairs typing and Jill is upstairs watching TV. Need I say more. This sucks!!! I guess I should go upstairs and figure this whole mess out.

(30 minutes later)

Well that didn't work out very well. Jill and I are both pretty frustrated. I'm feeling pretty insecure right now. I know she still loves me, it just comes out awkwardly, maybe even misguided. Why do we say such hurtful things?

Guilty Pleasures

2007-11-26T15:27:00.000-08:00

So earlier I realized that today is monday and two of my favorite shows are on tonight. The first is MTV's the Hills, and second is GSN's High Stakes Poker. I would consider these guilty pleasures. Things I'm not proud to admit that I like. So I thought I would make a top ten list of my personal guilty pleasures starting with:

1.The Hills – that Heidi is such a skeez
2.I cry during Extreme Home Makeover about 40 percent of the time
3.Poker - Nole is the only one who truly gets this side of me
4.I always laugh when Dylan accidently says cuss words.
5.The five spot at Matt’s and LoLo’s chicken and waffles, why don’t you just give me an IV drip of Crisco.
6.Kelly Clarkson
7. Since I’ve gone this far, I’ve seen every episode of every season of American Idol.
8.An occasional Camel Turkish Silver with the fellas.
9. de-pants-ing Jill when she’s washing her face...I'm laughing out loud thinking about it. It’s innocent, keep it clean people.
10. I order every UFC event, even if I watch it alone

Oh yah, I thought of an eleventh
11. pretending to be asleep when Jill wants me to change a diaper, a bunch of guilt but even more pleasure

Don't leave me hangin here, what do you guys got?

"Why can't you just be normal"

2007-11-25T21:12:00.000-08:00

"Why can't you just be normal" is what my wife said to me in the car tonight. She was referring to the party I'm planning for my newly bachelor-ized friend. A good friend of mine has been going through the divorce process for the last 3 1/2 years and is finalizing his work here in the next week. I know this should be a time of reflection, maybe even solitude, but I want to do something that is going to celebrate this new chapter in his life. So I'm throwing him a party. Now a normal party would be some food and drinks, mixed together with funny stories. But I have a tendency to go over broad on everything I do. What could be simple, dare I say, "normal" has now escalated into something much more substantial. (I don't want to talk about it now because he might be reading, check back in on Saturday, I'll have pictures) This has been the pattern of my life. My curse is that I can't ever be normal. I've always got to make it bigger and better, more people, louder, faster, higher, etc. Examples you say

Normal would be settling for the Mexico house that is "ocean accessible" and not beach front because we could save lots of money. Normal would be having tattoos that are hidden. Normal would be planning my best friend's 30 birthday party 2 weeks in advance instead of 8 months. Normal would be taking my wife out to dinner and a movie on her birthday. Normal people don't have a "Summer of Fun". (The last summer of fun was in 2005, I've been planning this Summer of Fun for 3 years now, I call it...Anticipate '08) Normal means buying the Toro lawnmower instead of the 3 speed, twin blade, self-propelled, hydrostatic drive, 21" commercial grade Honda mower with Roto-Stop BBC. BTW, I love my lawnmower, it's possibly the most awesome thing I own. Normal means buying two mains and one sub for the church sound system. Somehow we ended up with 4 mains and 8 subs.

Unfortunately with being "normal" I probably would have settled for an office job, working banker hours, always wishing I could be the guy wearing a t shirt to work. Normal would have told me that planting a church is too much work and too much heart ache. Normal should have quit a long time ago. Normal never would have tried and failed to be a professional musician...and normal would have always regretted it. Normal would never try to learn a new instrument at 30. Normal probably would have divorced Jill because we are so different instead of embrace all the ways she makes me happy. Normal never would have tried to build a car because normal was afraid to fail. Normal waits for life to happen instead of charging it head on. This is what makes me embrace my abnormal-ness. I don't want to go through life half-ass ed. I'm quoting my friend John Lynch in saying, "I love being alive, I love watching the sun rise, I love playing with my dog, I love taking walks with my wife, I love everything being alive has to offer." I too love being alive...I want to celebrate it every day. This is why I can't be normal.

Your Family

2007-11-22T20:35:00.000-08:00

I think yesterday was the best thanksgiving I've had. Jill invited Ace and his girlfriend, Gayle, to come over for dinner last night. If you don't know who Ace is, read "it's my favorite sandwich in the whole world". I've got a ton of stories from last night, but I'll just share two.

I picked Ace and Gayle (that's Gayle with a "y", it's very important) up at 4:00. First thing I see is Ace wearing a shirt that says "fuck it all". Now I'm not terribly opposed to a shirt like this, sometimes that's exactly how I feel. Sometimes I wish I could wear a shirt like this. But I'd never have the guts to wear it out. Most likely whenever I get in a bad mood, I would put the shirt on, turn the lights out, sit in my closet and sulk. At least I could wear how I feel. Alright back to the story. At this particular moment, I didn't think the shirt would be deemed appropriate for Thanksgiving dinner. I politely told him that I didn't want to offend anyone in my family and asked him to turn it inside out. He totally understood but I think he was kind of bummed. I think he really likes that shirt, it's one of his newer ones. On the drive over Ace asked who was going to be there. I told him my family, Jill's family, and a couple from church. I could see from the look on his face that this is not what he was expecting. He says to me, "what about jeremiah", I reply, "no, he's going to be with his family", "and kevin" " no he's in california with family" "and israel" "no he's with family as well." I could tell that he thought this dinner was a church function. I said to him, "hey Ace, you know what?" he looked over at me, "it's Thanksgiving and you're spending it with your family as well." he paused for a moment "Thanks Mark"

During dinner time I was bouncing all around. I just wanted to serve Ace and Gayle. "Can I get you something, more turkey, more stuffing." I got no response a couple of times, so I guess that's a good thing. Ace had a glass of milk and Gayle a glass of apple juice. After Gayle had finished her's up, Jill asked, "can I get you some more juice". She responded, "no, I finished mine." Jill told her she could have more if she wanted. Gayle politely declined, "no, I finished mine." It occurred to me that she was not used to getting refills. Because when it's gone, it's gone. There's no more to have. These are the moments that break my heart.

I forgot, I got one more. I bought Ace a bike a couple of weeks ago. Nothing special, just a Walmart special. I know I know, Walmart is evil. But evil has bikes for only 59 dollars (Sam, I know, I'm the biggest hypocrite). I don't live under the law, but by grace. :) Ace had to exchange it for a new one because the last one broke (which Walmart is very good about, I kid I kid). I said to him, "are you going to take better care of this one?" Ace said, "I need to, it's special to me." "Is it because I gave it to you." "No, it's because God gave it to me." Ace, thanks for the reminder.

For some reason I feel like I'm a better Christian and a better person when I'm around him. He keeps me humble, I'm less consumeristic, he tells me I'm blessed, he makes me less selfish. Everybody needs an Ace in their life. This thanksgiving, I'm thankful for Ace.

what to say

2007-11-20T13:50:00.000-08:00

Kevin, the guy I co-lead oneplace with, just had a grandmother pass away today. She had a stroke a couple of weeks back so it didn't come as a total surprise. But the process of watching someone pass is excruciating. My dad once said, it's like watching someone drown, you can't turn away and you can't do anything about it. I could sense the weight he has carried for his mom. I have aways struggled with what to say in these moments. CS Lewis talks about his wife passing away and says, "Offer me prays and love, I'll accept it...offer me religion and I shall assume you don't understand." Religion might give you factual answers, but it doesn't change the fact that thanksgiving is going to have sad memories, that kev and grandma will not get to share stories anymore, that kev's parents will cry more than they laugh over the next couple months. I once spent some time looking for hospice care. My mind was numb and I was feeling wore out from life. Before I left one of the facilities a guy said to me, "I'm sorry for what you are going through." I felt as if he related with my pain...like he had been through the process before. So now I've adopted the phrase as my own. It's my way of saying, I understand...I wish I could stop the pain. Kev, my heart is with you.

Wedding Bells

2007-11-19T23:25:00.000-08:00

So this last weekend I got to perform the ceremony for some good friends of mine, Jared and Camilla. Each wedding ceremony I say something different. I thought I would post my favorite excerpt from this one.

"You know what I love about marriage? I love when one spouse is gone for only 4 hours and being told, "I missed you." I love falling asleep holding hands. I love it when one spouse wakes up at 2am and says, "I can't sleep, let's go get ice cream." You know what I love about marriage? I love staying up to watch a late night movie and simply fall asleep on the couch, because you don't have to drive home any more. I love it when the day was long and hard and your spouse whispers something that only you would understand, and for some reason, it makes things a little bit better. I love that marriage brings kids. I love that marriage is a commitment honored by God. I love that marriage gives you a companion that will run with your dreams, walk when you're tired, weep over your sadness, laugh when you tell jokes, and tell you over and over, "I love you" because it never gets old."

The irony is that I think my wife is mad at me right now. But it doesn't change how I feel. I still love being married. Jill, if you read this, I'm sorry.

it's my favorite sandwich in the whole world

2007-11-16T12:35:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I decided to treat myself to a nice hearty lunch. Who am I kidding, everyday I treat myself to a nice hearty lunch. (which reminds me I've got to lose a few) Matt's Big Breakfast is one of my favorite local joints. They have this sandwich called the five spot. The five representing bread, a fried egg, cheese, bacon, and grilled onions. I know it sounds simple, but Jesus himself would call this sandwich divine. So around 11:30 I called in the order for a cup of chili and a five spot. I got my food and brought it back to the church. Now I have a decision to make, eat the five spot first or let it be the last tasty treat that goes down my gullet. I decided to savour the moment and eat it last. I was literally 2 bites away from finishing my chili when my favorite street friend, Ace, comes strolling through the door. "Hey Mark, Wha'ch ya doin" with a quiet melancholy reply, "eating lunch", "what's that you got", "chili", "no man, what's the box". Okay, you have to understand, I love Ace. A poor upbringing mixed with some bad decisions has made him homeless for 30 years. Our friendship is definitely honest and fruitful. I knew what he was going to ask next. "Hey bro, Can I have it?" And all the while echoes are going off in my ear "If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him or If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it." yeah blah blah blah, i really wanted that sandwich. But how can i say no. Of course I gave it to him. I think he ate in literally 20 seconds, it seemed like such an injustice. God, why am I so selfish? Please tell me. After he was done with the five spot, I said to Ace with a smile, "I really wanted that sandwich" You know what he said back to me, "I know, don't you hate it when that happens." For some reason I don't think he was talking about the sandwich anymore.