Man Coming Alive

WARRIOR is His Name

2010-03-11T19:19:00.003-05:00

"The Lord is a WARRIOR, the Lord is his name." Exodus 15:3

As many of my readers know, I became a published Christian author in August 2006, when my book, A Warrior Culture was released. That was a huge turning point in my Christian life, because I put pen to paper and wrote what God had given me. I didn't do it to get rich, gain fame, or make Oprah's book club. I did it for every man on Earth to take and use to grow stronger as a man of God, and surround himself with other like minded individuals.

In the past 3 1/2 years, I've received many positive messages from as far away as South Africa, and as nearby as my own hometown, from men that have used the book to build a men's ministry. I've had my book translated into three languages (that I know of) by a group of scholars at the Christian Communication Center in India. These are just a couple of the things that reinforce the fact that this book is a God-Thing. And even today, I am humbled by how God has used an average Joe like myself to turn something out that can have an impact around the globe.

About 3 months ago, I got an email out of the blue from this Bill guy in Virginia. He sent me a nice note thanking me for writing it, and went on to tell me that he had bought a ton of copies, and he loves to give them away to guys as he travels the country. I thanked Bill for being my "Johnny Appleseed", so to speak, and offered to buy him dinner should he ever be in my area. He said he'd take me up on it, but he also wanted to know if he could carbon copy me on the emails he sends out to his group of Warrior Men. I told him I'd love to be included, and shortly thereafter, started getting the emails.

After about a week or so of emails, I started to notice that what I thought was just a few guys getting together to study, was actually a growing, thriving Warrior Culture of hundreds of men that he is leading. That's when I was humbled, blown away, and wishing I lived closure to his hometown so I could be a part of it.

Today, I received a video link from Bill and I've posted it below. Bill is the dude waving the Warrior flag at the beginning and the speaker at the end. So, if you are struggling and don't think you have what it takes to build a powerful group of men to lock arms with and fight for your families, your church and the Kingdom, then watch this video:

Dad! Dad! Daddy! Daddy!!!

2010-03-09T19:42:00.005-05:00

For the past three years, I've been trying to teach my now 7 year old son, how to ride his bike. It was pretty easy at first a la training wheels. BUT, since I am a cyclist, I decided last Saturday was the day he would learn. I had even cooked up a grand scheme to take him to a huge parking lot, and have the glorious Dad's "Push Off" moment that you see on tv. Well, I did have that moment, sort of...

I took my son Will down to the local community college parking lot and unloaded his 16" Tonka Truck Bicycle. The first thing I noticed, as I hastened him to jump aboard, was the fact that the bike was too small for him. But not only was it too small, it was a bit young looking for him as well with all the Yellow paint and Tonka Truck stickers. I made sure not to say anything about it, but I think he was thinking the same thing.

Putting all of these things aside, I raised the seat up as high as possible and put him on it. The first problem he had was getting started. No problem I thought, I would just run beside him with my hand on his back pushing him around. This worked great for the first hour. Then it started to get a little tiring.

That's when I told Will, "I'm going to give you a push and run beside you, but I'm not going to hold you up".

He told me, "But I'll fall Dad".

"No you wont"

"Yes I will"

"NO you wont!"

"YES I Will!"

We argued like this for about five minutes, with such furor that hasn't been seen since Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck held the famous Duck Season/Rabbit Season debate. But ultimately, I caved in, and told him I wouldn't let go of him Even though, in the back of my mind, that was exactly what I was going to do.

To give Will some credit, by this time, he had the basic pedaling, steering and braking down pat. However, the whole starting and stopping thing needed some help. I knew this and was ready to catch him if needed, but then again, I knew that if he fell, he really couldn't hurt himself too bad, and it would probably be a valuable lesson.

The moment came... I lined him up, gave him a rolling start, ran behind pushing him, then I lightly let him slip away on his own. I don't think he noticed I had let go until he was about 100 feet away and I heard him say, "Dad, what time is it". When I didn't answer, the panic button went on in his head and he started screaming:

"DAD! DAD! DADDY! DADDY! I'm GOING TO WRECK"

He was screaming his head off, but the funny thing was, he was riding and doing really good!

I stood there calmly and watched until he came to a stop, jumped off his bike, and threw a little fit about how I shouldn't have let go. As soon as he was finished with this little tantrum about how he could have wrecked, I simply said,

"But I had faith in you that you wouldn't, and you didn't wreck."

Ain't that just like God? He runs beside us, cheering us on, pushing us as needed and when we are ready, he lets us go on our own. We may get angry and argue with him, but he ultimately knows best for us, and does not give us more than we can handle.

So, He is there cheering for you, watching out, and will help you by His will. The problem most of us have is that we are too used to playing it safe and afraid to let him give us the push off into somewhere we may have never been, or may not have ever wanted to go to before. If we'd just trust in Him, He really does know best. But the thing most of us miss, is the fact that even though we may feel like he is far away and won't see us when we fall, he's actually right there ready to pick us up, dust us off, encourage us, put us back on our bike, and get us going again.

Branded...

2009-03-18T15:11:00.005-04:00

I wrote what I like to call my, "Come Back Post" the other day for the whole world to see. Today, I re-read it and realized that all of it is true! But, it was more or less a big pity party for myself. So, I'm trying to break out of that state of mind, and write about something a little more uplifting.

I first thought I'd write about my experiences in the Emergency Room yesterday after my son ran his head into a steel pole at school. But after deciding that is about as uplifting as feline leukemia, I thought I might talk about my life as a runner. BUT, who wants to hear about that? I already talk about it so much that I should probably just let that one lie. But just then, I was reminded of the lifestyles that we take on, when we get into something new and let it consume us like running has with me.

When I first started running, I had an old pair of shoes, some shorts from the 90's, and an old Army t-shirt. But as time went on, I started changing my wardrobe to reflect the character of an athletic person. First, I bought some $120 high tech shoes, then some sweat-wicking clothes, and then I had to have the Oakley running shades. But it didn't stop there... I even bought a bike (for off days from running), a hydration belt, and the piece d' resistance, a $350 GPS watch.

But was all of this stuff necessary?

Sure, it helped with the comfort level of running. Also, the watch helps me with training. But necessary or not, it was just the stuff that I needed to brand myself as a runner to the world. When I wear my running attire, I feel as though I stand out as a runner, and thus other runners can identify me and we can be friends and meet up for runs around town!

How stupid...

Can you think of any other ways people brand themselves? Did you ever see a big guy that was wearing Under Armor and think, "Wow! He must be a professional football player". Or maybe you saw a person wearing a Callaway Golf Hat and you almost went up and asked them if they knew Tiger.

But what about in the Christian-branded merchandise?

I've seen it time and again, how certain people will come to know Christ and immediately go out and buy the shirts, necklaces, and the ultimate form of Jesus Merchandise, the JESUS FISH on the back of the car. But does this make one more spiritual? Does it make one closer to God? Does it advertise in a positive light, the God of the Universe? I answer no, no, and maybe to all of these questions.

So, what are you branded as? Or better yet, are you POSING as an athlete? A fashionista? A Jesus Freak? Is it a positive vibe you're shining on humanity? Or, are you blinding them with a fad?

"Lord, Help me be a simple person that keeps his eyes on you and not the world."

Drifting...

2009-03-16T15:59:00.005-04:00

I've been drifting along in a vast ocean...

At least that's the way I've felt spiritually for the past year, and it's taken me until now to really see it.

In January 2008, I started to drift off, away from the comfortable shoreline that I was so accustomed to and into the rougher, colder waters. The worst part about it is the fact that the waves keep getting higher and the raft I'm riding (which was once a mighty vessel), is starting to come apart and take on water. I don't like it... And something has to give or I'll be eaten by the sharks that are circling.

In January of last year, I lost my spiritual leader when God called him to another Church. Then, a few months later, I lost another one when he too was called away. The first was my Pastor, the second was one of my best friends that was our Youth Pastor, but I considered him my rock. Sure, you may say that Preachers come and Preachers go, and that's just the way "Church" is. But I beg to differ.

When I lost my Pastor in January, I lost the first person that showed me there was more to this "Jesus Thing" than simply going to church. He showed me that it's a lifestyle, not just a Sunday/Wednesday tradition. And in his tenure, I came to understand what it means to love God, and let Him love you. But most of all, what I learned from him was the fact that there is a HUGE difference in being "Spiritual" and "Religious" and sadly, the majority of the people I know don't have this figured out yet.

But you might be saying to yourself something to the effect of, "A man cannot save you," or "Don't place people (even Pastors) on pedestals," but I have to say that

I miss the guy that taught me more about having a RELATIONSHIP with God and not simply a religious fear of the Almighty.

I miss the person that taught the Word and not a feel good gospel like so many are spewing today.

And, I miss my friend and that hurts, really bad.

When I look back on the past few years, I smile by the enormous amount of spiritual growth that took place in my life. I learned more, wrote more, and studied more than any other time in my life. If you don't believe me, just read some of my posts from 2006. Or better yet, I even wrote a book and became a published Christian Author! I was on top of the world and felt God's presence in my life as though I was being used in a mighty way by Him for Him. And we were close man, real close.

That was then...

As I think about my spiritual life today, I am sad. And it's a deep sadness that I've never felt before. Don't get me wrong, I love God and I'm not saying I'm "Lost" or anything like that. And I'm also not saying that I'm gonna' drop Christianity and go chasing after the world. No, not all. What I'm saying is that I HATE the fact that I've allowed myself to place distance between my Saviour and I.

It's uncomfortable... Heck, it's becoming unbearable and I don't like it one bit.

I want my spiritual life back...

I'm tired of all the Churchy Crap that I've been through...

I want my Pastor...

I want more of God.

Rylan's Miles to Miracles Fondation

2009-01-03T13:15:00.006-05:00

I'm back at Man Coming Alive after an extended hiatus with my family. I am back, and ready to write again, with a new direction as I will be blogging about the foundation that Marci and I have established: Rylan's Miles to Miracles Foundation. Oh sure, I'll be writing all the spiritual stuff that I'm known for, but there will also be more writing about what we are doing at the foundation, AND my ongoing training. Anyway, more about the foundation..

Rylan's Miles to Miracles Foundation was founded by Marci and I in December 2008, as an attempt to give back to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) and it's workers that were instrumental in saving our baby Rylan's life. If you are unaware of what I'm talking about, you can read Rylan's story or if you want you can click on the the link at the right titled "Rylan the Miracle Baby".

At the top of this post, you'll see our logo. This logo signifies that we are a Christ-centered organization and the road is symbolic of the journey we have taken and are yet to take. You'll also notice that there are two tiny crosses at the bottom corners. These are symbolic of the cross-shaped scars that Rylan carries on each side of his chest from the chest tubes that pierced his side after his lungs collapsed when he was 3 days old. He carries these scars for life, and every time I wear the logo on a shirt, I do the same as a reminder to what he went through.

What we do is raise money to purchase clothing such as onesies, blankets and the like, and also toys for siblings of the babies in the NICU. We also plan on providing equipment as needed to the NICU and also to help the families of the children in the NICU. In addition to this, we will also donate 25% of all proceeds raised to the Cincinatti Children's Hospital because we have witnessed what they do first hand, and are still in amazement.

You may be wondering why we would want to give clothes, blankets, etc. to a NICU??? Simply put, on the first day we went to visit Rylan in the NICU, we were a little shocked to see that he was dressed in a onesie, lying on a blanket and he had a small stuffed teddy bear in his bed with him (We expected the simple hospital white clothes and a generic blanket). We asked where these things came from and the nurse told us that the girls in the NICU often buy clothes and things for the babies because they feel so sorry for them. This touched us because we had never really thought about how when a baby is born, they have nothing. Sure, there may be clothes at home from showers and presents, but what about at the hospital? Also, most parents are afraid to attempt to dress their child in the NICU because babies usually have wires, leads, tubes and the like hooked to them. This is where the nurses can help because they know how to dress the babies, since they are the ones who hook them up to the machines.

If you are wondering how we raise money, here's the answer: From donations by people like you, fundraising events, and our annual 5K Road Race (October 10, 2009). As you'll see on our website, the Miles to Miracles Foundation is geared around raising money through athletic sponsorship. For example, I'm going to run in a bunch of races this year, and I'm seeking people that will give me "Money per Mile" for a race or races. I already have a commitment from one family that has offered me $5 per mile for every event I participate in! This is exciting, and motivating as well.

We have also opened it up to other athletes that want to participate and race to raise money for the Foundation. Anyone can enter any event anywhere, and raise money by finding sponsors. We provide all participants with a running shirt that has the Foundation's logo on the front and "I RACE FOR RYLAN" on the back. We'd love to have you on our team and if you're interested, click here.

With that said, I'm in training to run, swim, and bike my way to raising money for NICU's and the miracles they serve. I'm going to be writing about my training here, but more importantly, what God teaches me along the way. The NICU's are often overlooked and unsupported by outside donations. We look forward to changing that. So stay tuned and On On!

Busy, Busy, Busy...

2008-05-16T15:27:00.002-04:00

I just realized it has been two weeks since I last posted. The funny thing is that the last thing I wrote about was how I almost burned down the house. Since then, I've received a ton of emails asking me if everything is OK and not smoldering in the ashes. Good news is, me and the family are doing fine and I haven't burned down the house... or even come close to it...yet.

I've been really swamped lately at work and I've been busy with my new running schedule that I have enacted. I try to run every other day and I usually spend about an hour "out and about". I've written about my new fitness obsession on my my other blog and I really have no excuse for not writing here.

This weekend, soccer season comes to a close and we start looking forward to a couple of vacations we have planned for this summer. Also, I've been filling my calender with upcoming golf tournaments. Can't wait to get out and swing the sticks. This summer should be a great one!!!

Two Cooking Failures in Two Weeks...

2008-05-02T13:03:00.004-04:00

I used to like to cook,

I fancied myself a master,

But now I could write a book,

About my own kitchen disasters...

They say the reason country music is so popular is because it's about real life experiences. That said, the above lines are the opening stanza of a song I am penning about my own real life experiences with cooking and the failures I've had.

I almost burned down the house...

We had to fumigate for five days...

Two weeks ago, I multi-tasked my cooking. While Marci was gone, I had two things going at one time. I was grilling Kabobs on the grill and frying vegetables on the stove. The problem occurred when the grease got hot enough to ignite and a flame ensued on the stove. The flame burned a plastic handle on the spatula I was using and made a pretty good deal of smoke.

I put out the fire, but the house was now full of an acrid smoke that set off not only the inside smoke alarms, but also the alarm tied to our security system. This alarm not only calls some office in New Jersey that monitors our house, but it also announced my conundrum to the entire neighborhood with a loud siren in the attic. I could feel a few sets of eyes watching me as I opened all the windows and doors, and turned the fans on full blast in order to rid the house of the smoke. It probably looked like a scene from Fast Times at Ridgemont High when the van pulls up and all the smoke pours out.

Since we have an infant, we had to leave and stay at my mother-in-law's until the house was given the OK from my wife. That took five days...

Then I cooked some peppers,

And we felt like we'd been maced.

Last night I decided to fix up something different for dinner. Will and I got home from soccer practice at 7PM so as you can imagine, I was starving. For some reason, I've had this desire for red beans and rice, so that was what I would fix. I got the water boiling, dumped in the rice and beans and heated up a skillet to sear the vegetables. But not just any vegetables... I found the best looking Jalapeno Peppers at Kroger yesterday and decided to fry them up and add them to my concotion.

I got the butter in the skillet hot, threw in the sliced up peppers and started stirring. It took about 10 seconds before I got my first whiff of the peppers. I guess the combination of the hot skillet and the wet peppers instantly created this evil steam cloud that made my eyes burn, and after breathing it, I started to cough. Then, I heard Marci coughing in the other room. Within two minutes, all of us had burning eyes, throats, and a cough. With my eyes squinting I grabbed the skillet, ran outside and threw the peppers over the hill.

When I came back in, it didn't take a genius to realize that we couldn't stay here and breath the acid fog I had created. So I turned the stove off and we quickly gathered up what we would need to spend the night away from home.

So, I'm a failure at cooking twice now. In the past two weeks, my failures in the kitchen have resulted in 6 nights away from our house, inflamed mucus membranes, a burned spatula, a false alarm to the local fire department, and a son that is terrified whenever he sees his Dad pull a skillet out of the cupbord. It's humbling to admit that I am a failure in the kitchen. From now on, we'll leave the cooking to th experts at McDonalds, Wendys, and Taco Bell...

Grinning from Ear to Ear...

2008-04-28T15:36:00.006-04:00

I woke up to something beautiful on Sunday morning. It was early... real early... bottle time to be exact. But, it was worth it.

After I fed Rylan his morning breakfast bottle, I placed him in his little glider seat. I noticed he was staring at me so I started to talk to him. Then, he started to really coo and smile. So I grabbed the camera and took about 57 pictures of it. One of which is shown at the right. Good news is, Rylan is doing great! Thanks for all of your prayers and kind words. As you can see from the picture, they worked and God is good!

A little while later, Will wandered into the room and started playing Webkinz on the laptop. I took this opportunity to teach him how to babysit his brother. And as you can see, Rylan was pretty content watching big bro' type away. God has been so good to Marci and I.

Thank you Lord for allowing me and giving me the honor to live this life!!!

Getting Fit...

2008-04-25T09:59:00.005-04:00

I used to be in good physical shape. Actually, I used to be in great shape and could run and not get tired. But, then I got out of the Army (1999) and it all went to pot. So, 9 years later, I am embarking on a journey of mythical proportions as I seek to recapture the fitness of my youth... well, when I was younger.

I was inspired by my friend Will that is also seeking to regain his military form. He started training and even started a blog to chart his ups, downs, and HOOAHS! over at Help Will Train. Because of him, I am also charting my journey to fitness at a new blog over at:

Gotta' Get Fit to Keep Coming Alive

So, I'm off and running! But I warn you, this new blog will be really, really, really, really boring...

Death is Precious...

2008-04-23T15:26:00.004-04:00

Today, I attended my friend Grant's funeral. I still can't believe that he is gone... 45 years old, 4 year old son, beautiful wife of 18 years, and the world by the coat tails... It doesn't make since why, but I know where he is and that when God called him home Sunday, it was his time to go. Everyone is missing him, but heaven is a whole lot richer today because of his presence.

What struck me right between the eyes was the message the Pastor carried from God and gave to us today. He lingered on the verse that simply says:

"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints" --Psalm 116:15

Sure, I've heard this verse before, but I don't think I have ever really thought it through, or ruminated over it. Actually, I don't think I'm alone when I say that I've never thought about death being "Precious". I've always associated death with bad things such as loss, pain, suffering, etc... but never precious. That is, until God spoke to me through this preacher today.

When we see death, we see a person that leaves us forever. There is no more interaction with them. No kisses, hugs, handshakes, conversations, or any other thing that we can call person to person sharing. All that our brain can see is the fact that the person is gone and we will never see them again. As Christians, we know that we will see them again (if they were a Christian), but our own petty little psyche is hurt and missing them. I guess we are selfish that way. Anyway, that's how we earthly humans see it.

God on the other hand, looks at the death of one of his children as precious, because of His holiness. You see, when we die, we shed our dirty, stinking earthly body, and our pure spirit leaves it behind to be carted off and buried. Since God is Holy and He can't stand sin, He is overjoyed when our spirit leaves the filthy bag of bones and flesh that it once lived in, and goes to be with Him. The only way that I can even fathom how God may feel is that when a child of His dies, He feels much like a new parent that has just witnessed the birth of their child. Our spirit has been given a new realm of existence, and all new level of holiness that is pleasing to God. We've finished the race and been rewarded with a new holiness with our creator.

Today, I'm missing my friend. But I know that I will see him again one day. I also know that he would not come back for anything in the world. His soul is in communion with God and all of those that have gone on before. There is no more pain or suffering. So long my friend until I see you again one day...

Losing a Friend...

2008-04-21T08:38:00.004-04:00

Early Sunday morning I got a call from a buddy of mine. Sadly, I missed his call because I didn't hear my cellphone ringing. When I saw that a call had come in, I picked up the voicemail and was kind of bewildered as to why he called me so early on a Sunday. But when I heard his voice, I could tell something was up by his tone...

"They found Grant Johnson dead this morning... We don't know what happened to him but he told his wife he felt bad and she went to get him something to drink. When she returned, she found him unresponsive. Call me..."

Within about five seconds, I experienced shock, horror, sadness, sorrow, and about ten different memories of the friend that Grant was to me. When I told Marci, I could see it on her face that she was experiencing the same feelings. All that we could say was simply, "Why?".

I met Grant last Spring when I led the men's group at his Church through a study of my book. We instantly hit it off and became friends. We both had boys that were about the same age and both were interested in soccer. One of the things that I admired to the utmost about him was the fact that he and his wife had adopted their son Carson from Central America, brought him home, and become his mom and dad. I got to coach Carson in soccer and Grant helped me out. He was a great guy...

So today, I'm still asking a plethora of "Whys?". Why did he have to go so soon? Why did he have to leave this wife and little boy? Why him? Why? Why? Why? Sure, I've been through this before, but I still don't have the answer. I don't understand God's ways, but I do know that His are much higher and mysterious than any human's could ever be. It just hurts...

In a couple of days, I'll say my goodbyes to Grant. I know that he wouldn't come back from heaven for anything, even though that is what we want. His memory will live on in his blog though. It's over at GIVE ME BOLDNESS.

Inheritance...

2008-04-16T10:35:00.008-04:00

SABLE, THREE WOLVES' HEADS, ERASED, ARGENT.
ON A CHIEF OR, LION PASSANT OF THE FIRST.
CREST: A PEGASUS COURANT, SABLE, DUCALLY GORGED

If you know me, you know that I have an affinity for English and early American history. I guess this interest grew from my childhood when my Dad researched our family tree. What he found was that our tree does fork.. several times to be exact! But seriously, he traced the Prater family blood line from me, all the way back to the time of the Norman Conquest of England (circa 1066).

What my Dad found is fascinating. His discoveries indicate that my ancestor (Grandfather) came to England with William the Conqueror and was one of his subjects, most likely a knight. He was a Norman that had descended from a group of Vikings that settled in the Norman peninsula in 911. After William conquered England in 1072, he gave my Grandfather a large amount of land in western England where my ancestors lived and prospered for many generations.

So back to the Prater Coat of Arms...

A coat of arms is also known as a family crest. Crests were used at one time to signify the person or family that carried them. What's even more interesting is that these crests also signify where the family came from and accomplished. For example, the wolves heads on the bottom of the Prater Coat of Arms signify that one of my Grandmothers was a direct descendant of the Yscitheor Prince of Powys because the black (sable) field and the three wolves heads are his symbol. SO, that's my claim to Welsh Royalty.

BUT, the greatest claim is the fact that my coat of arms contains a lion. But not just any lion... This lion is the same style as signified in the Royalty of England. The "Lion Passant" means that it is simply walking and it was the symbol of William the Conqueror that had to give my Grandfather permission to use it. What's neat is the fact that this Lion appears so often in todays world because three lions in the symbol of England. SO, that's my claim to English royalty.

And, to cap it all off, there's a really cool knight's helmet and a winged Pegasus wearing a crown on top of the shield. The Praters must have really been something in Middle Ages England.

But what about your spiritual ancestory? If you think about it, all of us have a spiritual crest that is written on our heart showing where we've been and what we've inherited from our spiritual forefathers. Each is unique and each one tells our story as written by the author of our faith. And what's really cool is the fact that all Christians are royalty because we are a child of the King! What a pedigree!!!

So, I have earthly royal blood from Welsh and English/Norman stock running through my veins. Maybe I should give Princes Harry and William a call sometime...

Nah, what's more important is the fact that I have spiritual royalty from God. He is above all kings and kingdoms on earth, and his inheritance is one that cannot be matched in worldly things.

Feeling Words...

2008-04-10T11:00:00.009-04:00

"I wish I could just go somewhere and cry."

Marci said this to me just after we crossed over the Ohio River, leaving Cincinnati behind. It's not that we had a bad experience, but rather they were tears of joy because of the AWESOME news we had received.

On Monday, we loaded Rylan up in our truck and headed for Cincinnati Children's Hospital. This appointment had been looming on the horizon for a month, and I have to say, we were dreading it. After all that we have been through with our little miracle baby, we were scared that we would take him up there and would be told he was sick, needed surgery, or any other number of things that we could imagine. But we went...

The first thing I noticed as we walked through the facility was that it was unlike any hospital I've ever been in. First of all, there were kids everywhere and in all different states of health. I saw bald headed kids, kids with masks, kids with IV's, and kids with no outward appearance of any medical treatment or sickness. As I carried our baby through the hospital, my own level of anxiety began to rise. I was scared...

The Doctor we went to see is known as the "guru" of Ear, Nose, and Throat Pediatric Surgeons. Dr. Robin Cotton is his name and he has been at the hospital for over 35 years and has done everything from airway reconstruction to cleft pallet repairs. His list of Medical Boards he is a member of is substantial, and he is world renknowned as the best of the best for kids with breathing problems.

When he walked into our room, he was a pleasant enough guy and he examined Rylan very carefully. He told us he wanted to do a scope and see what was going on. Obviously, the word "SCOPE" hit our panic button because that is what caused Rylan's lungs to collapse in the first place. We asked if there was a chance of this happening again, and he told us absolutely not because he would be going up through the nose and only looking at the top of the trachea. I think he was a bit confused as to why Rylan was scoped to begin with...

As I held Rylan, he inserted the scope into Rylan's nose and began looking around. Obviously, Rylan threw a fit and turned as red as molten steel. While I watched the doctor look through the scope, I'll never forget him saying,

"He's got Laryngeal Malasia but only a mild case"

Within 3 minutes, the scope was done and the Doctor had told us this great news. He sent us for Xrays and then reviewed them with us. Dr. Cotton told us the Xrays were normal and that Rylan would grow out of the malasia within a year, and that he didn't need to see him again, EVER!!!!!

As you can imagine, we were all relieved/happy/walking on air. We had just gone from scared at 1:30 to driving home on air at 3:15!!! Which leads me up to the title of this post:

When Marci told me she wished she could go somewhere and just cry, what she was saying was that she felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. We had been told by others that Rylan was OK and even some of the Doctors we know have told us the same thing. But it wasn't until we heard it from a true expert in Pediatric Airways that we actually FELT it.

There is a huge difference in hearing words, and feeling them...

Especially when it comes to God.

Getting God...

2008-04-04T08:52:00.004-04:00

I love to read, but I read really, really, really slow. Sometimes I feel as though I can write a whole lot quicker than I read. I don't think it's because the cogs in my brain turn at a lousy rate. It's simply that I like to read every word so that I can take in what the writer is saying, and have ample food for thought to digest later. Well, this morning I'm digesting heavily on something I read in the book 'Amazing Grace' last night.

'Amazing Grace' is the story of an Englishman named William Wilberforce. It was turned into a major motion picture and was released in February 2007 (I need to go to Walmart and buy it). If you haven't heard of Wilberforce, you have really missed out on a remarkable person and man of God. He was the one single person on earth that God used to take a stand against the slave trade and lead a campaign against it. But what makes it interesting is that he completely changed the minds of everyone for a practice that had been around since earliest of times. Up until his time (late 1700's), slavery was just something that happened and slaves were no more important that any other piece of property one could own. It was actually viewed as vital to the economy of not only England, which was the greatest colonial power in the world, but also to every nation on the planet

Wilberforce realized that slavery was quite simply put, wrong. And, he devoted his entire life to making everyone else realize it too. He took a stand for what was the right thing to do and eventually he fought his way through the toughest of MP's (Members of Parliament) to see that slavery and the trade of slaves be outlawed throughout the British empire. This is one of, if not, most monumental changes that has taken place in the last 400 years.

As you can imagine the tentacles of slavery caused the fallout to be enormous. Slave trade was outlawed in the Empire, so all countries (including our own) found it tougher to get slaves. And, it wasn't until our nation's Civil War that slavery was once and for all put to bed under the leadership of Abe Lincoln. Actually, Abe Lincoln considered Wilberforce one of his idols.

The thing that jumps out at me is that Wilberforce didn't go on his crusade against slavery until after his conversion. Like many of us, he had a Christian upbringing, went to church, played the part, and he was a good person... but not born again. It was not until he spent a few months in the summer of 1785, riding across Europe in a stage coach with the great theologian Isaac Milner that he "Got It". Here's the line I read last night that gives a peek into what he "Got":

"What madness is the course I am pursuing. I believe all the great truths of the Christian religion, but I am not acting as though I did. Should I die in this state I must go into a place of misery... Yet I may become religious. Has God not promised His Holy Spirit on them that ask Him?"

Obviously, he was under conviction that made him realize where he stood with God. And with the help of a great man of God like Milner, who never rammed Christianity down his throat, only discussed it, Wilberforce was changed. He went on to work out his salvation and make a complete 180 degree turn and start living for God rather than of his own desires. This was his Damascus Road conversion and also the day he took the job that God had written on his heart when He created him. On that day, he realized that all men are created equal and that slavery must be abolished. He worked tirelessly and had set back after set back but finally, he saw the vision God had cast before him come to fruition 1807 with the passage of the Slave Trade Act.

So, let me ask you this: Do you "Get God"? If anything, most of us simply go through the motions without asking God what He wants us to do, and do what we desire instead. William Wilberforce listened and allowed himself to be used and he changed the world.

Are you getting what He's telling you?

Or are you just spinning your wheels?

Are you a good person playing the part?

I'm listening God, speak...

TMI Post of the Year...

2008-04-03T10:21:00.007-04:00

"I'm growing older but not up,
My metabolic rate is pleasantly stuck,
Let the winds of time blow over my head,
I'd rather die while I'm living,
than live while I'm dead"
--Jimmy Buffett

-It's not that I'm 36 years old...

-It's not because a friend of mine asked if it seems possible that we are coming up on 20 years out of High School...

-AND, It's not that the kid at the gas station calls me "Sir"...

This morning, I saw something that scared me. Actually, it put "THE FEAR OF GOD" in me and has caused me to reevaluate my mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical health status. And when I saw it, I began making a list of "I GOTTA's" such as:

I Gotta' loose weight, take vitamins, pray more, get that life insurance policy, make out a will.....

STOP! All of this over the fact that I noticed something poking out of my ear and waving at me like a passenger on a ship pulling out of port. Was it a mole? No... A Tumor? NO!!!

What I noticed this morning was that I have a couple of tiny little clear hairs sticking out of my right ear. These hairs are not the little hairs that are "Cute" like the ones around my infant son's ears. Not at all... The ones that I'm talking about are 2" long and snow white!

Should I be scared? Should I get an AARP membership? Should I wait until I look like this guy, even though I already feel like I do?

Well, I can already tell you that I am not going to try to set a record for the longest ear hair. From the looks of things, this guy would be pretty hard to beat. So I simply took the scissors and snipped them off one by one to get a better look at my new enemy. Upon closer examination, they are thin and probably no one would even notice them because of their color... But I did snip them, and I added them to the list of "Things to Do When Looking in the Mirror".

So there you go! This is my official TMI (To Much Information) Post for the year. However, it's made me realize that it's always a good time to reevaluate and take inventory of everything physical and spiritual, to make sure you're getting the care and exercise you need. I know that I need to do a whole lot more conditioning and I'm starting asap. I'm going to start a physical fitness routine that involves walking my dog a few miles each night. I'm going to incorporate spiritual fitness into it by using this time to walk and talk with God too.

AND, I'm buying one of those fancy little trimmers as well...

Tiny Little Prayers...

2008-03-31T14:31:00.006-04:00

About every three months, our dog runs away from home. Coincidentally, every three months, the battery in his invisible fence collar runs dry. AND, every three months, I forget to change the battery. With these facts in hand, Napoleon the 70 pound Golden Retriever disappeared between 9-11:00 AM Saturday morn. This always adds extra stress to the Prater household because Will takes it very hard. He always cries and we always tell him default answer: "It'll be OK, we'll find him."

I began searching for Napoleon at 11:45 by driving slowly up and down each street in our neighborhood, scanning every porch, driveway, and fenced in area for any sign of him. I really hate looking for him because I always feel like people are looking at me as if I'm a burglar casing for my next plunder. Anyway, I always try to stop and ask people that I see out, if they've seen a big golden ball of energy rumbling around the neighborhood. Sadly, I struck out on Saturday... and then again on Sunday...

Last night before bed, Will started crying because he missed his "Doggy". I told him that if he wanted Napoleon to return, he needed to go in his room and say a little prayer that God will send him back to us. Through his tears, he said, "OK" and retired to his room. About thirty minutes later, he came back into the living room and told Marci and I that he had said a tiny little prayer for Napoleon. I told him that was great, but deep down, we both doubted that the dog would ever show up again.

This morning I called the local Pound to see if anyone had reported our dog to them, but as you can imagine, I struck out their too. Then, at 12:05, my phone rang. Marci was on the other end and told me how two girls had showed up at our door and asked if we were missing a Golden. They went on to tell her how they knew we had one because he barks at them every time they walk by and they thought they saw him about a block away from our house. I rushed home just after the girls had gone up the street and brought Napoleon home! It seems that our dog had spent the weekend with some neighbors that live about a block away.

As you can imagine, Will was ecstatic! And this was a perfect time to show him how God answers prayers. I took Will by the hands and asked him if he prayed for Napoleon. He told me that he had prayed that Napoleon would come home and he did. I then went on to say that God loves to answer prayers. Will was smiling from ear to ear and he simply said, "I Know!!!".

What a great lesson for Will that God answers prayers and that He answers them on His time. What a great lesson for Marci and I... Oh We of Little Faith!

Entitled to Nothing...

2008-03-26T11:00:00.010-04:00

When I began this blog, I made a vow to myself that I would never discuss politics. Today, I break that vow, but I promise not to rant about any particular party and try to sway you one way or the other. Heck, by the end of this we may decide to form a new party altogether. So here we go...

I don't know about you, but my brain feels like it is being squeezed by the daily onslaught of rhetoric being spun by the potential presidential candidates. Its not that this is , its some new thing that I've just noticed. It's actually the usual for this time in the electoral cycle.

The problem I have that really makes my head hurt is that all of this political mumbo-jumbo makes me like all of the politicians really do think we are stupid, mindless people that are wandering through life carelessly. I also get the feeling that every candidate feels like they want to become our own personal savior that will step in and save the day by providing the vehicle that we can use for the Government to take care of us.

First things first, I have a savior and He is the ONLY one.

Second, I do not want my Government taking care of me, I can do it myself.

I doesn't matter if it's Obama, McCain, Clinton, or any of the others, every time I see them giving speeches on the TV, there numero uno topic is how they are going to solve all of our ills and fix things so that the Government can extend it's hand to all citizens and give them what they need. Everything that is currently being proposed such as increased aid to the poor, tax incentives to businesses, gasoline concessions, and of course universal health care all sound great, but doesn't anyone out there realize that all of them have one common denominator:

THEY ALL COST MONEY!!!

I don't know about you, but I am tired of all the spending that is going on already and is not working. And, I know that whatever "New" program that is implemented by whomever wins the election is going to steal more from the little box on my paycheck that feeds my family. There is already enough stolen and given away simply because of an entitlement attitude that has been bread into our culture through the redistribution of wealth that goes on everyday right in front of our eyes. So, if you think you are entitled to get something for nothing simply because you are an American, you are wrong and should be arrested for receiving stolen property. This stolen property is the money that I worked my tail-end off to provide for my family, it's not to be handed out to you!

So, I urge everyone to take a look at who's running and find out just what it is that each one of them wants to steal more of your money to spend on what they think are the magical cures for our country. Remember, these are the same people that put the lottery into action to save our schools... Just because they are running for President doesn't mean that they are smart enough to fix things. Anyone can throw money at a problem, even a monkey...

AND, from the recent onslaught of junk mail from a few organizations my wife and I belong to, it's obvious that we are supposed to vote for whomever they tell us too. Just keep in mind that just because a candidate is backed by a group that you side with, doesn't mean that they believe as you do. For example, if you are a member of the "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi Society" and they endorse a particular person, you should do yourself a favor and see if the "Save Nagaina the Cobra Foundation" endorses them as well. I've learned through experience that endorsements have more to do with donations than with core beliefs and values.

And one last thing, stop telling people they are going to hell for voting for one particular party! This actually happened to my Aunt at a bible study of all things. My Aunt is a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat that firmly believes in her party, and it is her right (FREEDOM) to do so. You can imagine how she felt when a lady at the small group got onto the issue of politics and told everyone something to the effect of, "If you vote Democrat, you're going to hell because you support abortion, homosexuals...." and a whole other laundry list of items. This breaks my heart because it hurt my Aunt that has since dropped out of the small group. All I can say to this incident is

"...Lest Ye Be Judged..."

Finally, I just want some common since and not a bunch of promises of things the Government is going to give me, that I don't want in the first place. I just want my freedom. I want freedom to think for myself, take care of myself, and conduct myself in a manner that does not infringe on anyone else's rights to do the same. I want my sons to grow up free, with a promise of life, liberty, and happiness in which they will have to make decisions for themselves, and live with the consequences, both good and bad. I want them to prosper and I know that they will also have times of failure. But I don't want them expecting to get some Magical Government Bail-Out when things get tough. I don't want them to think they are entitled to anything!

I guess I've come to a junction in my life, or a three-way fork in the road where I have to decide on something. I've taken the left fork before when I came of voting age and registered as a Democrat simply because my Dad was one. After college, I took the right fork in the road and changed my registration to Republican after I found out I agreed more with the conservative policies. In the past 18 years of being voter eligible, I've seen the good and bad from both parties, and lately, it seems as though they've all gotten worse.

I recently filled out a new voter registration card and designated "Independent" as my party. I know that many would see this as a moderate, middle of the road kind of designation, but I do not. I see it like I'm sitting at the bus stop in the pouring rain, waiting for a bus load of friends going the same way that I am to stop and pick me up. I've already passed on the first two because they weren't going my way. Each bus driver told me I was entitled to a free ride, but I declined. But... Wait a minute... I see one coming from off in the distance... I just wish it would hurry up...

Two Jeeps at a Red Light...

2008-03-25T11:53:00.007-04:00

I realize that I am very weird... I've known this all my life, and even been told this before, but today at approximately 8:11 AM, I admitted it to myself. During my morning commute, I was driving along and realized that there was a Jeep Wrangler like mine just ahead of me. Since we were in town, we ended up side by side at a red light. While I was sitting there, I looked over at the other Jeep and started taking inventory of the differences between it and mine.

Mine's red / His is green...

Mine has hard doors / His has the half doors...

Mine is a Sport Model / His is a Sahara...

Mine's cleaner / His is dirty...

Mine has running boards / His doesn't...

Mine's licensed in Kentucky / His is Ohio...

Mine's better!!! / His Stinks!!!

IT'S GO TIME!!!!!

The light turned green and I floored it and sped off like a top fuel funny car driver. All the way to work, I kept checking the rear view mirror to make sure he wasn't gaining on me because, Dag-Gonnit I was going to WIN!!!!

This is the part that made me realize I was weird. It was when God spoke to me and asked:

WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO WIN? AND, WHY ARE YOU SO DEAD-SET ON WINNING IT (Whatever "IT" is)?

My answer to God: "I Don't Know for sure... But, I think is has to do with the way YOU wired us men!"

As you can see, I like to blame this sort of behavior on my competitive nature. BUT, I'm starting to realize that there is more to it than that. I know that when God created man, he created him in His image. I know from the recent miracle of my son Rylan that God loves to come through. And, he created man to "Come Through" also and be the hero. This is hardwired into our nature and was written on our hearts (Women are competitive too so don't think I'm being sexist, this s just a post about guy's egos). But when does our competitive nature fuel our egos? Obviously, it does it anytime we size up our opponent and set out to defeat them just like I defeated this other Jeep driver this morning.

The problem is, our egos can grow, and GRow, and GROW until they are unbearable to everyone around us. When this happens, it shows up at red lights and I've seen it rear it's ugly head most often at sporting events. But whenever it does, we have to be ready to realize it and squash it before someone wants to squash us. Because that's the other thing that a strong ego does:

It arouses other strong egos and mobilizes them to go to war against each other

And when this happens, you end up with two grown men rolling around slapping and kicking each other like little kids. AND, the few times I've seen this, I've felt the worst for the men's children that have a front row seat to the action. Of which, they will NEVER forget and it will become a part of them.

So, thanks be to God for giving me a reality check of my ego this morning. I wonder if he talked to the guy in the other Jeep and told him something to the affect of:

"Just ignore that idiot egomanic in the red Jeep, I'll take care of Him later."

Five Crucial Meetings...

2008-03-20T14:39:00.005-04:00

This morning, I realized that there are five very important meetings that I must attend if I plan on making through the day. Four I go to consistently and one that I neglect often. The sad thing is, the one I neglect is the one that is most vital to my existence and this morning, I finally realized it.

Every morning, I get up and go through the motions getting ready for another work day. More often then not, the first person I talk to is my wife and we normally just look at each other with blank expressions because neither of us are morning people. This is my first meeting. And even though it's not a perfect, made-for-TV kind of husband and wife exchange of pleasantries, it's OK. Marci and I are on the same wavelength... Imagine if I were to spring from the bed smiling, grab her hand, spin her around, shout "Good morning my darling", and plant a big fat kiss on her! I'm pretty sure she'd call the men in white coats to haul me away. So like I said, we understand each other's morning tendencies, and even though our first meeting would seem unfriendly to an outsider peeking in, it's not that way to us.

The second meeting I have is a new one! It's when I check in on our new baby boy Rylan. This is a fun one and it usually involves a big smile across my face, followed by a "Good morning big guy," and then a kiss on his little head. This is a meeting that I am looking forward to developing...

My third meeting is with Will. It either comes when I tell him it's time to get dressed for school. Or, it happens in the kitchen as I am leaving for work. This morning was one that I will cherish forever. He came into the kitchen while I was making coffee and asked me to explain the story of Paul Revere to him. I guess it had to do with the fact that he and I watched 'National Treasure' last night and he was intrigued by the signal lanterns hung in Old North Church. I spent about fifteen minutes talking with him, answering his questions, and loving on him all I could before I had to go out the door to my job. It was a great meeting...

My fourth meeting comes every morning at 9:00. This is our daily Operations Meeting at work which is comprised of all the Department Managers updating the CEO about what's up in our little realms, answering his questions, and communicating information to the other departments. Since I am over Safety and Environmental, I always kick off the meeting first. So, this is one meeting that I can never be late for, nor can I miss. It usually lasts about an hour and a half and then I retreat to my office to get moving on my projects that keep me busy for the rest of the day.

At the end of the day, I go home and we all eat dinner and debrief each other. We catch up on everything that happened today, and plan our future events. Then the day winds down and we get ready to do it all over again.

But wait a minute... that's only four meetings!

The fifth meeting is the one that I neglect the most. It's also the most important one of all. It's my daily meeting with God. Sadly, I seem to skip this meeting sometimes. I make it to all of the others, but I have trouble meeting with the God of the Universe even though He is the most flexible when it comes to scheduling. He's there whenever we call on Him, and if you think about it, He will drop everything to hear us and spend time with us.

I sometimes picture God in His throne room, with the angels and elders about in such a Holy scene. Then, a voice softly comes from just outside the throne room that says something like:

"Father..." or "Our most gracious heavenly Father..." or even simply "God..."

It's at that moment that God stops the heavenly host from their angelic duties and clears them out of the throne room because one of His children wants to talk to Him. It's pretty humbling to think that He will do that so that He can hear and focus solely on us.

So, my fifth meeting of the day, really needs to be my highest priority. This morning, I met with God in the shower and we talked... Well actually, I talked, begged, and praised Him for all He's done for us. I also apologized for neglecting Him and asked Him to forgive and strengthen me. I know I can do better because He is worth it! I also asked for His help in making me a little more of a morning person for the sake of my wife. Praying for another one of His miracles, even if this one seems a bit hopeless...

Unfair but Necessary...

2008-03-19T13:50:00.008-04:00

I have always heard people say things like, "What a great testimony", and "Wow! Did she testify!"

When I was a kid, I thought that to testify, you had to stand up and shout about God, Jesus, and the Spirit until you were red-faced and pouring with sweat and gasping for breath. I wasn't raised in a Church where I had seen anything even remotely familiar to this type of thing happen. Rather, I grew up is a strict and linear Southern Baptist congregation. But, for some reason, I thought this was what testifying was.

Then, I matured and learned that your testimony is simply that:

IT'S YOURS

And, It's not about shouting and spitting like a Spirit-Filled preacher, hankie in hand to wipe away the residual fluids that keep bubbling up. Rather, testifying is simply telling your story.

It can be about anything from your salvation experience, to how God helped you make it through a tough time. But one thing is clear, it is a never ending story and you are the only one that was born to live it! So take a deep breath and realize that the God of the universe chose you to do what it is you will do in your lifetime for Him. That's why you are important, and even if you don't believe it, you matter. You matter to Him. If you didn't, He wouldn't have knit you together into the miracle that you are.

Marci and I were talking the other day about why things happen? For example, why did we have to go through what we did with Rylan? We whined around for a little while and really felt sorry for ourselves. We finally agreed that it was just not fair for us to suffer like that and that we got the shaft. AND, it sure as goodness didn't seem fair that our little baby had to suffer the way he did.

But if you were to get in a hot air balloon and go up to 10,000 feet and look down at the bigger picture of our story, it'd be easier to see that if we hadn't gone through what we did, we wouldn't have seen the miracles occur, witnessed the union of Saints praying for our baby, or seen God show up like He did. But most of all, had we not experienced what we did, we would not have the testimony that we can now share with the world about how God Came Through!

FAIR??? No, but this world and life in general are not fair.

Necessary??? You bet'cha....

Play the Game Boys, Your Game...

2008-03-17T08:42:00.007-04:00

Just a quick note to say that both Mommy and Baby are doing great! Thanks for the continued prayers and the awesome emails I've received from so many of you. You mean the world to me and I appreciate your friendship!

The past week has been one of adjusting to a new baby. All you parents out there have gone through this self-training regime which includes learning feeding schedules, performing diaper checks/changes, and asking each other strange questions such as "Is he still breathing?" and my personal favorite, "Should we let him sleep or will he be up all night?" It's a strange time, but it's also a fun time...

Anyway, since I was off work all last week, Marci and I spent our time efforting through this list of baby stuff, along with watching a lot of basketball on TV. We watched about four different conference tournaments, saw our beloved Wildcats get sacked, and as you can imagine, we'd had our fill of basketball by Sunday. While searching the 177 channels for something else, we settled on the movie "The Legend of Bagger Vance". I had been wanting to watch it because it's about golf, but I soon became enthralled in the storyline because of it's spiritual undercurrent.

Matt Damon plays the part of an ex-golfing legend named Junuh that's lost his swing and pretty much gives up on everything in life. He has checked out from everything and everyone and turns his back on the world after a bad experience in WWI. Bagger literally materializes out of thin air and walks into Junuh's life one night. Long story short, Bagger guides and teaches Junuh how to get it all back. They go through ups and downs, highs and lows throughout and at the exact moment when Junuh decides he can't do it because he's not strong enough, Bagger tells him:

"Yes you can... but you ain't alone... I'm right here with ya... I've been here all along... Now play the game... Your game... The one that only you was meant to play... The one that was given to you when you come into this world... You ready?... Strike that ball Junuh don't hold nothin back give it everything... Now's the time... Let yourself remember... Remember YOUR swing... That's right Junuh, settle yourself... Let's go... Now is the time, Junuh..."

Parenting is hard.

Life is hard.

Being a child of God is hard.

We all face our share of trials and I've wanted to give up more than once and take the easy way out. When I look back on the times I've wanted to quit, I realize that those times were when I tried to do it on my own rather than with God. Just like Junuh was his own man, I could write another book about how pride has blinded me, and every other man on the earth. But then there's Bagger, calling to Junuh and letting him know that He's been with him since the day he was born, even if he didn't realize it. AND, there is no one else on earth that can do the job Junuh was picked (called) to do.

I don't know why things happen the way they do. But, after what Marci and I have faced lately, I realize that God's ways are higher than mine, and I can't comprehend them. I've also realized what suffering feels like. I've never hurt like I did the day Rylan died and was brought back by God as he guided the hands of the Doctors and nurses in the NICU. But I know that my pain that day was only a very small, pin point sized sample of the pain and suffering Christ endured for me.

Looking back on what I've refferred to as "The hardest day of my life", I now see that just like Bagger Vance was there with Junuh, the Holy Spirit was right there with Marci and I. He held our hand, cried with us, and guided the medical team as they saved our baby's life. He comforted us and took care of Will through this scary time. He never left us, not once.

Obviously, God has a big plan for Rylan and it's something he was born with that only he can do. And, the fact that our son Will saw these events unfold and will grow stronger because of them, has done nothing but reinforce the fact that he is also tabbed by God to play a big part in His plan. This foreshadowing of events in my son's futures makes me eager to see the whole game play out.

Now play the game Will and Rylan... Your game... The one that only you were meant to play...

PRAISE HIM... AGAIN!!!

2008-03-14T20:55:00.004-04:00

We got the pathology report back--- NO CANCER!!!!!!!

Yet again, God comes through.

I guess the human fleshly nature keeps us doubting... Gotta' keep crucifying the flesh and to be more and more sanctified.

Thanks for your prayers!

A Day Filled with Promise...

2008-03-13T20:40:00.004-04:00

Today, Marci went to a Dermatologist. The borderline melanoma mole that was removed yesterday was scary enough, and we wanted a specialist's opinion. She had her diagnosis evaluated by the Doctor she visited today, that told her not to worry, it's not as bad as we thought, and don't go planning your funeral music just yet (Dr. Cooper has a great sense of humor). As you can imagine, this put Marci's and all of our minds at ease.

Meanwhile back at the Ranch...

Rylan, Will, and I all spent the morning hanging out, watching cartoons, and changing poopy diapers. Rylan really is doing great and I am still praising God for his health. I am still in awe by the fact that two weeks ago, we were at our lowest of lows and facing the death of a child. But today, we are home with a normal happy baby that is eating like a pig, waking us up in the middle of the night, and of course making all kinds of cute noises and faces. I think my friend Roy Hooker summed it up when he sent me a text about how happy he was that Rylan was doing so well. He wrote the Psalmists words:

"Praise be to God from whom all blessings flow"

I'm praising him, we all are. Things are looking up... But when should I have ever doubted God? He always comes through in the end and saves the day. He is an awesome God, and there is nothing I can ever do to thank Him enough for all he has given to, and has trusted me with.

AND, I can't thank all of you enough for your prayers and encouragement through this difficult time. God has answered your prayers and for that, I will always be indebted to you. Please feel free to drop me an email sometime so I can try to thank you. I love you all...

And the Saga Continues... Cancer?

2008-03-12T20:44:00.004-04:00

I've spent the last five days writing about the ups and downs and the amazing miracle that our son Rylan has become. I spent time telling about the valleys and the mountaintops where God has showed up and once again been the hero of our story. Yesterday, I rushed things a bit in my post, and sped up the story so that I could write a bit about what happened on Monday. But this time, it wasn't Rylan, it was Marci.

When Rylan was born, our Doctor removed a large mole near the site of the C-Section. I hadn't really given the mole much thought, but Marci sure had. Several times during Rylan's time in the NICU, it was always in the back of her mind. For some reason, I guess woman's intuition that something was wrong with it, and obviously she was scared. I actually asked about it and was told that results would take at least two weeks because they always send moles off to some expert, mole lab place to be read by mole professionals, I guess. So we waited...

On Monday, I was sitting in our TV room with Rylan sound asleep on my chest when our friend Sarah called. She is our Doctor's PA and she was calling to check in on Marci's blood pressure. I told her that the BP was still up a bit, but to be honest, Marci was more concerned by the fact that we had not heard from the "Mole Experts" yet. She promised to call them and get a verbal and would call us back.

A couple of hours went by and she called. Marci answered the phone, it was Sarah. I heard Marci change from her usual bright, happy self, to a scared composure. When she got off the phone, she looked at me and said, "I HAVE CANCER". She immediately got up and dialed her mom. I put the baby down and went through the house after her. As you can imagine, she was a basket case and me being the man I am, was confused. I hugged her and she cried. I asked what did Sarah tell her and she told me the following diagnosis:

Atypical Displaysia with Margins of Melanoma

GOOD GRIEF!!! I thought to myself. What else could we face this week?

I asked her what it meant and she was too upset to say anything. She told me I had to call our surgeon friend that we grew up with because he knew about it and would do the surgery if needed. Of course, I called Eric and left him a message.

For the next half hour, Marci and I had a whole range of emotions. I'm not going to go to in depth here, but I can tell you we talked about everything from "What have we done to be punished like this?" All the way to the other side of the spectrum which even included death and the future. This was a very, very, very dark place that the enemy obviously used to his advantage.

All I could do was start praising God for what He had done for us in the life of our son, and how He's still on the throne and he's not leaving us anytime soon. But, the question always goes back to :

"Why God? Why Me?"

I remembered all too well asking God, why our little baby? But I also remembered God healing him and giving us a miracle.

Marci's mom showed up in a little while, and we all talked about it. Marci was terrified, and I'd be lieing if I said I wasn't. I was afraid of what my wife might have to face which included everything from surgery to chemotherapy. A billion different thoughts and emotions ran through my head at light speed.

About an hour later, our surgeon friend called. The first thing he told me was to not be afraid because this is not as bad as it seems. He told me that this is probably just a mole that may be in transition between benign and cancerous, but it's not a true blue melanoma. It has melanoma tendencies on one of the borders, so that have to treat it like a melanoma and remove 1cm of skin around the entire site. Before he got off the phone, he told me to have Marci at his office tomorrow so he could do the surgery Wednesday morning and be done with it.

After I hung up, I felt a whole lot better about the whole thing. He gave me hope that it really isn't a big deal and he'd take care of it. BUT, Marci on the other hand was still an emotional wreck. The way she saw it, she is a 32 year old woman with cancer cells detected on her body. The sad thing is, she was right. No matter how "Small of a Deal" it was, it was still cancer cells.

On Tuesday, Marci's mom took her to Eric's office while I watched the boys. Eric talked to her and explained it a little better. When she got home, she felt a little better about it, but knew that in the morning, she'd be having surgery.

This morning at 7:30, Eric removed 1cm of skin from the entire perimeter of where the mole was located. The outlook we were given is 99.9% chance of no other cancer will be detected in the excised skin. However, even if its only a 0.1% chance, we still worry, and will be for the next two weeks. So, I would really appreciate your prayers while we wait. I know and have personally witnessed miracle after miracle in the life of my son over the past couple weeks and I know that God will do one here too.

All day long, I just can't help but keep thinking that God is just adding to the testimony that we are living right now. And, I can't keep from thinking that Rylan saved Marci's life because he was born before the mole could turn into a full fledged melanoma and be removed. What if Rylan was born same time next year? What if we had never even tried for another child? Once again, I am reminded that Rylan is not only a miracle baby, but a life saver.

Rylan the Miracle Baby (Part5 - Going Home)

2008-03-11T09:51:00.009-04:00

On Saturday morning March 1st, Marci and I went to the NICU first thing in the morning to see our boy. When we got there, the weekend crew of nurses was on duty. We didn't know any of them and the nurse assigned to Rylan didn't have much to say about his condition. This was probably because she had just come on, but we were so used to asking questions and getting an answer that we were upset. Later on, we got to know her and turns out she is an awesome nurse.

Anyway, there we stood by Rylan's crib staring at him. He still had the chest tubes, ventilator and all the other leads hooked up to equipment that beep, rang, and did all sorts of things that we didn't understand. As we stood there, we began to cry. All the emotions of Thursday came pouring back in and the heartache returned. We hurt so bad because he was so helpless and because of the sedation, lifeless.

I LOST IT...

I started weeping because I couldn't control it. I wanted him to get better and I even remembered saying "I wish he would just grab my hand!" I was hurting and Marci was agonizing with me. It was truly rock bottom and the worst thing about it was that I kept hearing the nurses behind me talking about everything from Girl Scout Cookies to what food their kids spit up while eating. I know it wasn't their fault that Rylan was sick, but I guess it hurt so much because their lives were going on just fine and dandy, while we seemed to be crawling on our bellies through a swamp.
We had to get out of there so we retreated to our room.

When we got there, we broke down. Thank God for Marci's mom that was there and gave us the voice of reason. She reminded us how all of the tests were coming back good and Rylan was getting better by the minute. We knew this was the truth, but we were so beat down and the Devil was hitting us hard with doubt and diminishment.

He was getting better by the minute! The problem was, it was like watching grass grow: You know that it is growing, but you just can't see it happening. We prayed together and calmed down a little.

Throughout the day, we had several visitors. It was nice to see friends come by that cared about us and our family. Along with visitors, good news kept pouring in. Rylan had another chest Xray that came back clear and also, his blood work was getting better and better. I'll never forget when Marci's nurse Jenny came in and told us that he's not fighting for his life, but he's mending. Things were looking up!

Later, I met with the Doctor. She told me that she hoped to be able to wean him from the vent and hopefully take him off of it in a few days. Actually, they clamped the chest tubes a couple hours after I talked to her, because Rylan no longer needed them. And, they had reduced his oxygen level to 21%, which is room air!

Saturday night was a long one. All night long, the loudspeakers kept going off in the hallways announcing that someone had coded. "Code Blue Heart and Vascular"... "Code Blue ICU"... "Code Blue ER"... and about three helicopter arrivals and departures made the nighttime anxiety levels rise. I don't think Marci, nor her mom slept a wink. I slept more than them, but was awake for the codes.

BUT, Sunday saw the dawn of a new day. We went to the NICU at 9:00 AM and saw Rylan. He still looked the same, but we now were much, much, much more optimistic. We talked to him, prayed for him, and left after about 30 minutes or so. Back at the room, we waited...

In the past few days, the nurses started becoming more and more concerned with how high Marci's blood pressure was staying. She never had hypertension until now. First of all, post pregnancy hypertension is normal and all of them kept telling us that it would come down. Also, with the stress we had been through, it was understandable. But when they took her BP on Sunday morning they said it shouldn't have been that high even if she had run up the stairs! Then, they took mine, and it was even higher. SO, the nurses put both of us to bed with cold rags on our heads and told us to calm down...

By 11:20 AM, I felt calm enough to go to the NICU. I went down and scrubbed in. The first person I ran into was the charge nurse that told me they had just finished doing a whole bunch of things to our son. This scared me, but she was smiling the whole time! When I got to his crib, I realized that the tubes were gone from his chest, and he was OFF THE VENT!!!! I shouted as I ran out the NICU and down the hall to tell Marci. She cried, I cried, everybody cried! We were on a high until they told us they were going to bottle feed him too. Then we got down. We knew that if he failed the bottle feed, we'd be off to somewhere for another scope.

At about 1:00 PM, the Doctor came in and told us that Rylan had taken 20cc's of a bottle and did fine! Again I shouted!!! She told us she would keep feeding him ever four hours and monitor him. For the rest of the day, he did great on the bottle and things were really looking up for sure.

But, Monday dawned with Marci's blood pressure still out of sight. She was averaging around 170/110 and at about 3:00 PM she got very sick with headache and vomiting. They took her for a catscan and gave her medicine. Now, I was more worried about my wife than my baby!

We had already stayed two extra days while they monitored the blood pressure, and it looked like we'd be in another night. I worried about her blood pressure but the catscan came back fine. But most of all, I was worried about leaving the hospital without our baby and going home and having to see his nursery empty. That I dreaded most...

We had a pretty good night of sleep in anticipation of spending more time with our son in the NICU on Tuesday. When we went to see him Tuesday morning, his nurse Pat showed us how the site of his chest tube penetrations looked like little stripes that he'd have forever. We had already claimed the healing scripture about stripes and now we could see it!. Marci fed him and they told us he could possibly go home on Thursday after finishing his antibiotics.

That evening, we got the boot from the hospital. Even though Marci's BP was still sky high, we had to leave without our little one there. We knew he was in good hands, but it just didn't seem right to go home without him. We went to our house and stood in the nursery and cried. We were home, but missing our baby.

Wednesday, I went back to work. As you can imagine, my mind was elsewhere, but I was blessed to have so many of my co-workers stop by and ask about Rylan. I was humbled by so many telling me they had been praying. I also had many opportunities to tell of the 'God Thing' going on with my child. After work, Marci and I went to the NICU and I got to feed my son. I was terrified, but it worked out pretty good and they told us to be ready tomorrow to take him home. We were excited! But scared too.

Thursday morning, I went to work waiting on the call to come get Rylan. Marci and here mom went on to the hospital and I would have joined them were it not for the fact that I had to go at lunch and buy a rocking chair. I know, I know... wait until the last minute. But I found the perfect chair and threw it in the back of the truck. Right after I started toward the house to drop it off, my phone rang and it was the nurse in the NICU telling me to head that way.

To wind up the rest of this story, we took Rylan home at 3:00 PM Thursday March 6, 2006, ten days after he entered this world. In his first 10 days, he had been born, then died, been resuscitated, was put on a ventilator, poked and prodded countless times, Xrayed 8+ times, and all the while hooked up to strange machines that monitor every aspect of his body. He was as sick as a newborn can possibly get, but by God's grace and tons of answered prayers, he never left us permanently.

So, as I lie here on the couch with Rylan sleeping soundly on my chest, I will be the first one to admit that God really is in control. I also know that by His stripes we are healed. It is true that God has a big plan for this kid. Marci and I are looking forward to seeing that plan play out!

Rylan the Miracle Baby... (Part 4- A NEW HOPE)

2008-03-10T18:36:00.003-04:00

I've been writing for the past few days and explaining each day of our baby Rylan's life and the struggles we faced. Before I start on Friday the 29th, I just had to tell you that I am sitting in our TV room and Rylan is laying next to me, pacifier in mouth, and fighting sleep. Marci and Will are both sacked out on the couches behind me and obviously, I'm writing. Today, I'm going to pick up on the day after the worst day of my life. I hate to use a Star Wars theme, but Friday the 29th saw a New Hope that we needed badly.

I woke up about 6:00 AM on Friday the 29th. I saw Marci and her mom already awake and they told me that they had little to no sleep. I remember thinking to myself how this was supposed to be Rylan's birthday. I also pondered if all of this would have happened had he been delivered today. I'll never know the answer to that, and I guess it really doesn't matter because it was not in the cards.

Dr. Knight came in about 7:30. His hair was a mess, his clothes were too, and I figured he'd probably been here all night. I later found out that he had indeed been up all night in the NICU, by Rylan's crib. He had been checking and evaluating him, and also planning his course of action.

Dr. Knight started to explain how Rylan had taken 10 years off his life and how he was sorry it happened. We asked what was next and he told us that he wanted to test Rylan for damage from the trauma. He had an ultrasound of the head set up to check for swelling, and EEG to check brain activity, possibly an Echo Cardiogram to look at his heart. We dreaded this round of tests, but most of all, we were sad to here that his work week was ending and he would be handing Rylan over to Dr. Bonafacio that would take great care of him. We hugged him and thanked him before he left.

So, we waited... and waited... At about 11, my Mother-in-Law and I walked to the NICU and met Dr. Bonafacio. She was a very pleasant person to talk to and I could tell she was very compassionate. She told me all of what Dr. Knight had told me with one exception: She said they would probably attempt to redo the scope tomorrow. I almost fell in the floor when she told me this, so I told her that we had some real reservations and would want to talk more in depth about it when the time comes.

Why we were there, Rylan had an episode. All the sudden, his heart rate changed, and his oxygen saturation bottomed out. There were alarms going off and nurses rushing everywhere. I stood there in shock, as the nurses began working on him. It was like something out of the show ER and I was terrified that I was about to watch my son crash on the table. When the Dr. made it to the table, she instructed the nurses to suction Rylan. When this was done, all of his vitals returned to normal. When all was well, Nana and I ducked out the door.

We started hearing back from the tests at about 2:00 PM. The brain ultrasound came back negative for swelling, then the EEG came back normal, and finally, we heard that the Echo came back normal as well. We also got a confirmation that his blood gases were great and that his levels of other "Stuff" was much improved from this morning.

We had alot of visitors and lots of prayers were said on this day. I heard from folks all over the country that had heard and were praying for us daily. We could feel the prayers and they were helping us get through. One thing that really touched me was the fact that my boss had a special Mass held in Rylan's honor for healing. He told me the mass was attended by over 200 people, including every child from K-8 at the Catholic school next door, and that it was very good. I do not know much about mass, but I was humbled by the fact that an entire Church and school paused to pray for the healing of our child.

During our last visit of the evening, Marci placed a small index card in Rylan's crib that said the following:

"Rylan, We Love You! Keep fighting and stay strong! Always remember... THANK YOU THAT JESUS BORE OUR SINS IN HIS BODY ON THE TREE AND THAT BY HIS WOUNDS (STRIPES) RYLAN WILL BE HEALED - 1 Peter 2:24"

And that's where we left it for the duration of his stay. His nurses said they would read it to him whenever they were attending to him. We were blessed by a NICU staff of spiritual Christians.

Friday night, we slept a little better and woke up Saturday with an optimistic outlook. We went down to see Rylan at 8:30 and found ourselves at rock bottom again........... That's where I'll pick up tomorrow.

TO BE CONTINUED

Rylan the Miracle Baby... (Part 3 The Darkest Hour)

2008-03-09T11:14:00.003-04:00

Wednesday February 27, 2008 was the hardest day of my life. Nothing I had faced in my 36 years of life were as tough or as heartbreaking than what Marci and I went through on that day.

As that Wednesday morning dawned, we got up as usual, had some breakfast and got ready to face another day of tests for our child. Rylan was still in the NICU, but we had a very optimistic view of his condition, and even the Doctors and nurses were telling us that it's probably just a floppy airway and nothing more. BUT, to get to that final diagnosis so they could release him, a scope had to be inserted into Rylan's airway to verify there were no fistulas (holes) between his trachea and esophagus.

Marci and I walked to the NICU, checked in, scrubbed up, and went to visit Rylan. He was in a crib, pink as he could be, and looked like the prettiest and happiest little baby I had ever seen. Even the nurses (which were all AWESOME!), commented on how great he looked and how they had prayed for him to have a good feeding today.

We left the NICU and were told to be back around 1:00PM for a trial bottle feeding. If all went well and he fed well, they'd discharge him and we'd have to work on feeding techniques and nipple types.

Eventually, 1:00 PM arrived and I went to the NICU. I was greeted by Rylan's nurse Amanda that brought me in and pulled up a chair for me next to his crib. She brought a bottle over and I started praying. She smiled sweetly and told me everything was going to be alright. I started prayed...

When she gave him the bottle, he drank it! He did so good, we were smiling from ear to ear. Everything went well for about 20 seconds, and then the Oxygen Saturation meter started going off. We changed to a low flow nipple, but it was to no avail. My heart sank in my chest... we were back to square one. He'd failed the feeding test and would need the scope to see if there was a fistula too small for the Barium swallow to detect. Amanda apologized and I told her it was alright and I knew God would take care of it.

I headed back to the room and told Marci he failed the test. Obviously, she became upset and we both began to worry about the procedure. But Dr. Knight came in and assured us it would be quick and probably only take about 5 minutes to complete. He planned on doing it at 5:00 PM and he had the best Doctor lined up to do it.

So we waited and worried... Of all things, I remember thinking about that stupid Tom Petty song, "The Waiting is the Hardest Part", and for once, that song clicked. Then at about 3:00PM we took Will down to the NICU and let him look in at Rylan while I held him up to the window. Will was smiling from ear to ear as he told Marci, "There's Little Pinky. That's what I like to call Rylan because he's so pink!"

At 4:00 PM, the PA for the Doctor that would be scoping Rylan came in with release papers in hand. She sat them on the bedside rolling desk and started telling us that they release the Doctor to perform the procedure, AND that although rare, complications can arise that can cause strokes and even death. Marci began to cry as she signed the forms and all I could do was hug her.

Before the PA left, I'll never forget her turning to us at the door and saying, "It'll only take about 5 minutes to do the procedure. It'll actually take us longer to set up the equipment than it will to do it." That was at 4:15 PM... And the clock was ticking...

With each minute that passed, our anxiety level increased. I was pacing the floor when our door suddenly opened. I sat down on the bed when I realized it was Dr. Nelson (the Scope Doctor) and his first words were,

"It didn't go well at all... We had some serious complications with your son"

We sat there stunned as he explained what had happened. He told us:

When he inserted the scope into Rylan's throat, things went well. But, just as he pushed through Rylan's voice box, Rylan had a bronchial spasm and both lungs collapsed. When that happened, they lost him for about twenty minutes and performed CPR while they inserted chest tubes and intubated him on a ventilator.

We sat there stunned. Dr. Nelson could only say that he was very sorry, but other than that, he just sat there stone faced. I didn't know what to say to him, so I asked him to tell me again what had happened. He went through the same story word-for-word and sat there staring at me with a blank look on his face.

By this time, Marci was crying, and when she cried out, Will began to cry, my Dad was in the room and started crying, then my Mom even walked in and learned the news. The Doctor was still sitting there looking at us, and I had to tell him that I didn't have any questions and asked him to please leave. When he went out the door, we all lost it, especially Will. My Mom thought fast and said she would take Will home with her so they quickly exited. I could only set on the bed and hold my wife while she wept. I cried a little too, but I was too stunned to do much else.

A few minutes later, Doctor Knight walked in with tears in his eyes. He sat on the bed next to Marci and explained how he was sorry, and how he wished they had never done the scope, and how he wished he could turn back time, and how... Marci told him that she didn't blame him for what had happened and she knew he was sorry. Dr. Knight then wrapped his arms around her, prayed for her, and rocked her while we all cried. It was at that moment that I realized Dr. Knight was not only a Christian, but also the most compassionate Doctor I have ever met.

We asked him if we could go see him and he said we could, but he had to prepare us for what we would find. By this time, there was a crowd of people around us. There were family members, two pastors, and many others that had "just happened" to show up when they were most needed. I'm sure God was prompting their hearts...

When we went to the NICU, all of them followed us. At the NICU, the first thing I noticed was that Rylan's nurse had tears in her eyes. In fact, I didn't see a dry eye in the place. We actually broke protocol and the NICU folks said that everyone could come in to Rylan's bedside. Marci and I found our little one so sedated, he was paralyzed. There were chest tubes, that looked like big needles, sticking out of each side and he had a ventilator tube in his mouth. At that moment, all I could think of was how only two hours ago, I had held a perfect looking baby up to the window for Will to call him 'Little Pinky', and now, he was the most critical child in the NICU.

Our friend Pastor Peter Hall came over and led prayer. I was too heart broken to even be able to hold my head up and I simply wept unlike I've ever before. Marci and I were thoroughly heart broken and I was aching from head to toe. After we prayed, we left and returned to our room. I learned later that our Pastors stayed behind and prayed with Doctor Knight and his staff. When I got to the room, I noticed a ton of people all looking at us so I immediately went into the bathroom and sat down. I bawled into my hands and the tears were running through my fingers. I have never, and hopefully will never have these painful feelings again.

After composing myself, well... as good as could be expected, I left the bathroom and sat on the bed and held my wife. We cried together and all we could ask was why did this have to happen. Marci kept questioning why? Why God? She kept telling me how she had prayed every day and night for Rylan all through her pregnancy and just wanted to know why this had to happen. I didn't know what to say so I just sat there silent and held her, rubbing her head and telling her God is in control. Which is hard to do because everyone questions if He's really in control during times of hurt.

After we calmed down a little, we started hearing the cries of infants in the rooms on either side of us. Every cry we heard, brought tears to our eyes because all we wanted was our little one to survive and live so that we could hear him cry. Both of us had doubts he would leave the NICU alive, but we tried to suppress them.

The Doctor that delivered Rylan (Dr. Ford) came in and talked with us. He was optimistic in all but one area: He was worried about the fact that Rylan had gone twenty minutes without oxygen. He did say he was optimistic because they had pumped his heart and performed CPR, but that after 14 minutes, you have to consider brain damage. Our hearts were broken. Marci was upset by the fact that she had her tubes removed and that this was our last baby if Rylan didn't make it. She told me later that she was afraid of letting me down by not giving me another son. I assured her she had not, and we'd take what God gave us. Dr. Ford chimed in and said, it could still be done and not to worry about that.

In an hour or two, a nurse came in and told us we would be changing rooms to get away from the sound of crying babies. They knew we were upset and had a room with no one on either side. We jumped at the chance to move and since so many were in the room, everyone grabbed something and we left the room where we had heard the worst news of our life, never looking back.

After settling into our new room, one of my best friends Steve Salyers showed up right when I needed him most, and I had some one on one time with him. While we talked, he said something that I treasure more than anything. He simply looked at me and said:

"Hey D, God wouldn't have brought him back if He didn't have a big plan for Him."

Those words comforted me more than anything else I heard. AND, I took them, claimed them for Rylan, and stood on them.

Later on that evening when the visitors had departed, Marci and I went back to the NICU and saw Rylan. Once again, we wept at his crib as we saw the tubes in his side and watched his little chest rise and fall by way of a mechanical lung. The heartbreak sat in and both of us vocalized the fact that we didn't think he was going to make it. This was obviously an attack by the enemy because we were at our lowest of lows. We prayed for our son and prayed against the enemy. We also prayed for the other little ones in the NICU. One of our Nurses came to us before we left and let us know she would be praying fervently for us and our baby. She also told us that the Nurses on the floor are all Christians and they had already been praying together. We thanked her and went out the door.

We arrived back at the room and I guess it was out of exhaustion because I collapsed onto the couch and instantly went to sleep. Marci's Mom slept in the bed with her and neither of them slept much. This was the hardest day of our lives...

TO BE CONTINUED

Rylan the Miracle Baby... (Part 2)

2008-03-08T08:40:00.003-05:00

When we were told our 12 hour old baby was being admitted to the NICU, we were obviously scared. We understood why he was admitted (the choking episodes), but we were terrified that there was something terribly wrong with him. Of course, the Enemy attacked and fell upon us with a spirit of worry and doubt. We worried that he may need some type of surgery and we even doubted that he would be ok. It was a dark time and we prayed together while I held Marci on the bed. When we had got it together, Marci and I took showers and had some of that great hospital chow for breakfast.

It was around 11 AM when we first met the Doctor that would responsible for treating Rylan. Dr. Scott Knight came in, introduced himself, and had a seat. Obviously, we wanted to know what was going on and we asked him to tell us what his thoughts were. He explained to us that when babies choke like Rylan was, it is most likely due to a fistula... (A What???). Obviously Dr. Knight has the heart and patience of a teacher because he went on to explain how many times, babies are born with premature airways and esophagus. Especially big babies (like Rylan), can have a fistula which is a tiny hole or opening that connects the esophagus and the trachea, and allows formula to travel into the airway, and cause the baby to choke when they eat. He assured us that it's not that big of a deal, but it had to be fixed.

We asked how it was fixed and he told us that it takes a small surgery.

SURGERY?!?!

He explained how the Surgeon would make a small incision under the arm and go across to the throat and fix it with a stitch. Obviously, we were once again freaked out. We got even more freaked out when he told us that if the diagnosis came back as a fistula, the hospital would fly Rylan in the helicopter to University of Kentucky Children's Hospital. We asked when, and he told us probably this evening. Fear hit again!

So here I am, a child in the NICU facing a helicopter ride and surgery, a wife that was cut in half during the C-Section less than 48 hours ago, and a five year old son that started crying when he saw his Mom crying. I asked the Doctor to tell us his course action to drive this diagnosis to a final one. He told me that they would do a barium swallow Xray to see if any barium was traveling from the esophagus to the trachea. If negative, they would do a Baby Gram Xray to look for anything else out of the ordinary, and they would start an IV and start giving fluids. I asked if I could see Rylan and he said sure.

I walked down the hall toward the NICU where I knew my baby was lying and facing a long list of tests and maybe even surgery. When I got to the NICU, I buzzed in and the nurse opened the door. When I stepped inside, she told me that they were getting ready to put an IV in his arm but I could come in and watch. AN IV!!! I didn't want to see that so I declined the offer and went back to the room. When I got there, Marci was obviously upset, so I sat down with her and our Youth Pastor friend (that "just happened" to show up) prayed over us.

For the next few hours, we waited... and waited... and waited for the tests to come back. We were lucky that Marci's Aunt is the business manager in the Radiology Department so we had an inside track on what was going on. But most of all, she was able to speed things up a little.

It took a couple of hours, but we were given good, if not great news! Rylan had passed the Barium swallow test and the Baby Gram had come back excellent!!! The barium swallow pretty much ruled out the fistula so we weren't worried about having to pack up and shoot down to Lexington. We praised God for these great reports and when I talked to Marci's Aunt, she told me that God spoke distinctly and told her it's because of prayer.

Now with some semblance of relief, we went to visit Rylan. We found him lying in a crib with an IV in his arm and several monitors hooked to him. We cried because of the obvious pain he had gone through, and our hearts ached because all we wanted was him in our room, with us. When we finished our visit, the walk back to the room was a tough one because we were leaving our baby.

In a little while, Dr. Knight came back in and told us the results of the tests. We didn't let on like we knew they were all clear, so seeing him was a good thing (we actually could have kissed him at that moment). He told us that Rylan probably only has a floppy airway (Laryngeal Malasia) and not a fistula. BUT, to be 100%, he wanted to do a scope of Rylans throat and trachea and put it to bed once and for all. We asked about the scope and he told us that it would take about three minutes to go in and look around, and it would be a quick and painless procedure. He also told us that he was going to give Rylan the day off from eating and wait until the morning to try and feed him again. We had obvious concerns about the scope procedure, but we said "OK"...

Little did we know that the letters "O" and "K" would become the spurs in the side of the horse we were riding into the deep valley...

TO BE CONTINUED

Rylan the Miracle Baby... (Part 1)

2008-03-07T13:31:00.003-05:00

I'm back from a lengthy journey over the mountain tops and through the deepest valley that I have ever ventured into. The past two weeks have been a roller coaster ride that I am just now able to start unpacking. So, if you are just visiting here, check back over the next few days, as I write about being right in the middle of seeing God come through, heal and perform miracles by using others. But most of all, thanks to all of my friends around the world that have been praying for our baby boy.

On Monday February 25, 2008, Marci, Will, and I had the honor of meeting the newest member of our family. Rylan Andrew Prater was born at 5:10 PM and entered the world as a 9 pound "Bouncing Baby Boy"! Because of his size, he was born Cesarean and I was once again in awe of seeing him emerge kicking and screaming. Little did I know that this baby was born to be living proof that God is in control and that He is still performing miracles.

All you parents out there know what I mean when I say that the minute the umbilical cord is cut, there is a new form of worry for your child's well being that instantly kicks in. The minute Rylan was born (as with Will), we wanted to know if he was ok, had all the parts he's supposed to have, and we couldn't wait to hear him cry so that we could receive confirmation that he's alive and well. Rylan entered the world and had everything in all the right places, and of course, he let out a pretty nice scream.

About ten minutes after birth, I went with him to the nursery and passed through a mob of family and friends that high fived, hugged and congratulated me. It was a bit surreal and my head was dancing.... actually, I don't think my feet touched the ground for about an hour.

When I got the the nursery, the nurses began to weigh, measure, and do a bunch of stuff to make sure he is OK. As I stood there, I heard a knock on the window. I looked over and saw my five year old son Will giving me a big thumbs up. I simply smiled back and returned the salute. But, there was a problem...

When the nurses placed the Oxygen Saturation monitor on Rylan's foot, the readings were below what they should be. They assured me it was simply a need for more suction and they would send him to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) for treatment. I wasn't worried because the same thing happened to Will when he was born.

I left the nursery and went back into the hall. Will came running to me crying his eyes out. I instantly picked him up and asked him what was wrong. In his small little voice, he sniffled and said, "I'm crying because he's so cute". We had a big cry and hugs then I went back in to check on Marci.

When I got back into the Operating Room, Marci was fine and they were just finishing up the final procedure- a tubal... Yes, Rylan is our swan song when it comes to having kids. She was doing well and we were later moved into the recovery room where she was allowed to eat ice chips (?). But eventually, we moved on to our room where we would be camping out for the next few days.

About an hour later, they let Rylan out of the NICU and sent him down to us. We held our new son, prayed over him and thanked God for trusting us enough to give us this precious little one. He was beautiful and we spent a while trying to figure which parts of him look like who (my favorite game to play). After a couple of hours, we sent back to the nursery and crashed.

The next morning, I went down to the nursery and got our kid. We spent the day in the room with him. We played, held, and fed him. And, my favorite part was the two hour nap we took in the easy chair while he slept on my chest.

BUT, there was one problem...

I noticed that every time I fed Rylan, he would drink for about twenty seconds and then start coughing and choking. I took it that he just didn't have the bottle thing figured out yet and it would take time. So, whenever he choked, I'd burp him and he'd get better, somewhat better. But, he was also squeaking a lot. Marci even asked me one time if I thought he sounded like a monkey it was so bad. However, we remembered that Will squeaked and figured that it was just how he was supposed to behave.

About 11PM Tuesday night, I took Rylan down to the nursery and left him with a nurse we really liked named Carol. She promised to take excellent care of him and would let us know if anything changed. Well, things were about to change...

6:45 AM Wednesday morning, Marci and I had just woke up when there was a knock at our door. We said, "Come in", and in walked Nurse Carol without Rylan. We both sat up straight and listened as she told us Rylan had given her fits all night during feedings and she was afraid he had something wrong with his throat. She also told us that she was admitting him to the NICU for evaluation by Dr. Knight.

As you can imagine, we were scared so we asked her what she thought was going on. She told us that she thinks he'll be OK and that he just has a floppy windpipe. Nothing to worry too much about, but it needed to be checked and verified. We felt a lot better after talking to her but there was still a concern.

As she left the room, we didn't know what to think. We weren't too worried, but all of that was about to change. Littlebeknownst to us, her admitting Rylan to the NICU, was the precise moment that we shoved off for a long ride into the deepest valley we had ever been in...

TO BE CONTINUED

Getting Ready for Another Son...

2008-02-13T15:28:00.002-05:00

I have not had time to write lately due to extreme busyness. Or, maybe it's just an extreme form of focus, with the focal point being the upcoming arrival of our second child. I've spent the last couple of months getting everything I know of together so that we will be somewhat prepared. We are scheduled for Febraury 29th to have the C-Section so I'll keep you posted.

Does anyone else out there have a problem with a child being born on "Leap Day"?

Does anyone think being a "Leapling" will screw up his psyche?

Will it mess up his Social Security (as if it'll be there)?

Just wondering...

Geologist et al....

2008-01-26T17:35:00.000-05:00

It’s at this time every year that I feel as if I’m committing a crime by falsifying information on my income tax return. It’s not that I’ve set out to bilk the United States Treasury out of money, but rather, I’ve told somewhat… in a round about, kinda-sorta gray area statement about my occupation, when I proudly penned the word “Geologist” after signing and dating my tax form. But, I am a Geologist! I’m a CPG in the AIPG society and my work involves the study of Geology with an emphasis on the environmental side of the house, among other things that are not even remotely related to geoscience.

In the Jan/Feb 2008 issue of The Professional Geologist, Patrick Leahy (CPG-10507) threw out some staggering numbers. He stated that of the 6,000 new bachelor-level majors in the geosciences each year, less than 13% (<780). When I look back over my career since graduating from the University of Kentucky (BS) in 1993, I am not at all surprised by these figures. In fact, the career path of an aspiring student with a newly minted geology degree is shaped more like a spider web than a straight and narrow pathway. As anyone that’s ever taken worked in the environmental field is well aware of, the geology path has several disciplines that overlap with other career fields, and can even lead to more lucrative employment in totally unrelated careers for those not afraid of forsaking their love of earth science..

A good case study is a look at my relatively short career.

When I graduated from college, I really expected to go to step into a job as a hydrogeologist at some huge firm, and start working my way up until I was captain of the ship. I figured this would probably take a few years (at lest 10), but hey, I had a geology degree and new that I was an oddity that would be quickly recruited and brought into the fold of a high paying firm. Then, reality set in.

I came to realize that the field of geology is pretty small and very connected. I also learned that there were other geologists with a whole lot more experience than I, seeking employment. Sadly, I realized that my degree was simply a piece of paper that said I can work for someone, have the discipline to stick to it, and have a strong background in science. With that in mind, I started looking for anything that would get my foot in the door at a place where Geologists work.

After a couple of months of searching, I was offered a job as an Air Monitoring Technician with an environmental consulting firm. My first reaction to the offer was to turn it down because at that time, I could have cared less about air, I wanted to work with water, soil, and rock. But, hunger pains caused me to jump at the chance to make $6.50 and hour and be able to say that, “I am an environmental consultant,” even if it was only sampling for Asbestos and Lead in the air.

I worked in Air for about a year, learned a ton about how things work in the real world, and then an opening as an entry level geologist came open. I took it, got a fifty-cent raise, and started learning about logging drill cuttings and doing pump tests. Finally, I was doing what I wanted to do. Then, life happened, and I needed more money just to make it. So, I jumped ship, signed up with some friends that started an air monitoring company, and doubled my salary. I was at a low point because I was afraid I had taken a step backward in promoting my geology career, but I was about to find out that was far from the truth.

Throughout the next year, the air monitoring opportunities became scarce and our small company needed to diversify just to survive. It was in that turmoil that I was asked to train as a Construction Safety Representative. I didn’t want to, partly because I knew nothing about Safety, nor did I want to travel. But it turned out that I really had no choice in the matter if I wanted to be able to eat and pay my rent. So, I spent the next year learning everything I could about Construction Safety. The problem was, I missed all things geology. I even missed monitoring the air for asbestos! After all, asbestos is mineral.

Though I learned a great deal about Safety, I missed the environmental work, so I started searching. Eventually, the connections I had with my first company led me to a job as an Environmental Geologist with a new firm in town. I learned a wealth of information about underground storage tanks, Phase I and II’s, and even taught the 40 Hour OSHA class on the side. By this time, I had a pretty diverse background compared to most geologists my age, but a new problem had arisen: I was homesick.

I had moved away from Eastern Kentucky during college and missed it. I put out some feelers in the local industries, but all to no avail. But then, I got a call from my sister that worked with a lady that’s husband was a Geologist with a coal company with a need for someone like me. I immediately took the job, got a huge pay raise, and moved back to my home town.

I spent the next 6 years chasing drill rigs through the mountains, interacting with the locals, walking ridgelines, and logging core samples. As you can imagine, this was the job in which I utilized my “Geology Degree” to its fullest (I actually got to use my rock hammer, bottle of acid, and a compass!). But, this would all come to a halt in the summer of 2003 when I was laid off due to downsizing. So here I am, 32 years old, married with a six month old baby, a mortgage, an SUV, and no job. But that’s when the other paths that my geology career have taken me in the past, came in handy.

I landed a job as a construction safety representative and started making more money than I had ever made in my life. And, it was fun to get back into a field that I had been away from for several years. The only problem is, construction is seasonal and I new it would come to an end, and it did in May of 2004.

But, that same month, I was made aware of an opening in the steel industry that the company was having a tough time filling. The company was in dire need of someone that could step in and manage their Environmental and Safety Departments. All of the applicants they had interviewed had experience in either environmental or safety, but none had experience in both. That’s where I had a chance to step into my current job where I look after the Safety and Environmental Departments of a Steel Mill.

Obviously, my current position could never have been obtained had I not been willing to learn other jobs and diversify my resume. And, I’m still doing this today as well. In the past four years, I have also taken on the responsibilities of Security, Loss Control, Insurance, and even Workers Compensation Benefits. It’s more duties, but I know through past experience that it’s worth it to whatever future career path I may find myself peering down.

So, if there is one thing you can take with you from my story, it’s that you need to always be willing to learn other tasks because you never know when they may come in handy. This is especially true for anyone finishing up their degree and hoping for that first job in the field they devoted the last few years studying. Or, for the segment of the Geologist population that are out of the field and trying to break in, take my advice and look for any job that is even remotely related to Geology. And when you land one, be a sponge and absorb all the information you can and don’t limit your self to strictly geoscience disciplines. Mark my word, one day the opportunity will arise and you’ll be able to wring out your sponge full of knowledge and gain a big leg up over your competition.

So here I sit at my desk, mulling over what my occupation really is as it relates to my tax form. Ever since I graduated from college, I have always written “GEOLOGIST” on this line. But should I try to write small enough to put “Manager of Safety, Security, Loss Control, Workers Compensation, and Environmental”? Nah, I think this year I’ll enter “Geologist et al”.

I'm Back and Ready for 2008!!!

2008-01-09T08:19:00.000-05:00

I'm back!

Man it's been a busy few weeks and I've neglected my writing. BUT:

"I promise to do my best, put forth my first fruits, and write here more often so that I do not get rusty, stagnant, or come to a standstill in my personal, physical, and spiritual life."

WHEW!!! I guess that's my New Years Resolution.

Anyway, I've been busy with Christmas, work, and New Year stuff and reports. But, I'm back and ready to tackle a new year, even though I have a sore right arm from playing the Nintendo Wii that Will got for Christmas. Actually, I think part of my problem is that I have put Guitar Hero ahead of my blog... gotta' work on that one.

Hope everyone out there had a great Christmas and New Years. We sure did and this year looks to be a good one. Will turns 5 years old today, and we are expecting our second son on February 29th! Gonna' be busy, gonna' be tired, but gonna' be blessed!!!

Oh yeah, if you're wondering about the picture at the left, here's the scoop. Marci took this photo in Gatlinburg of some Bear pawprints on the sidewalk. After we got home, she showed me that there are two large and two small ones. One for me, one for her, one little one for Will, and the other little one for Rylan, when he gets here...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

2007-12-28T14:58:00.000-05:00

This is a picture of how we celebrate at the Prater house on New Years Eve!

I pray that all of my friends in the blogosphere have a safe and happy New Year!

Oh yeah, here are some words of wisdom for this holiday:

Don't make any resolutions you can't keep,

but keep the resolutions that you make... or something to that effect.

Anyway, Happy New Year!!!

UH OH, NO HO HO...

2007-12-23T09:01:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas to all my friends out there in the Blogosphere!!!!!!

The Leap Frog Incident...

2007-12-20T16:32:00.000-05:00

Today, I had this funny memory hit me that I just can’t seem to shake out of my skull. So, I decided to share it here, even though I really don’t know how to tie it into a spiritual story-daily walk kind of thing. BUT, I know my buddies in the blogosphere (ie. Andy, Grant, Larry, Hook, Gabrielle, Will… and the rest) can surely turn it into a lesson. This is your assignment guys: Turn this story about “The Leap Frog Incident” into a sermon, and post it in the comments. Here we go!!!

The Leap Frog Incident happened one morning last Spring. Will and I came out of the house, just as Napoleon’s (our golden retriever) "Girlfriend" showed up. I saw the dogs sniffing each other behind the Jeep as I threw my bookbag inside. But when I looked up, there was Napoleon and his girlfriend "At It", so to speak… AND, there was my son standing five feet away from them watching with a strange, quizzical look on his face.

I told Will to come on and he stood there and said, "Hey Dad look!". I blew it off and said, "Yeah I know. Now come on, we're late!".

He walked to me laughing and said, "That's funny, Napoleon and his girlfriend are playing leapfrog and he's not strong enough to jump over her back."

At this point, I started laughing. Then I quickly strapped him in the Jeep and ran behind it and cackled loudly. When I had regained my composure, I hopped into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine. Will was still smiling when he turned to me and said,

"Dad,” he said with a smile, “We need to help Napoleon next time.”

“Huh???” I said stunned.

“We could just grab his butt and push him over the top," he said as he motioned this movement with his arms.

Obviously, I couldn't hold back so I laughed out loud, he laughed, and then I told him that it wouldn't be a good idea. I went on to say something to the effect of Napoleon needs to learn this one on his own...

A Simple Invitation...

2007-12-19T11:12:00.000-05:00

"The majority of people say they would come to Church if only someone would ask them"

Why is it that we don't invite everyone we know that isn't involved in a Church, to come to our Church? I've sat and thought of why we tend to do this and have come up with the following possible answers:

1. Afraid they'll think we're a Bible-Thumping Jesus-Freak Weirdo.
2. Afraid that we may look like a hypocrite because we may have done something that seemed "Un-Christian" while they were watching.
3. Embarrassed that they might think we worship in a strange way at our Church.

You may have laughed at a few of these, especially the first one. But then again, maybe you've seen yourself in these three reasons. But now, I am left with the simple answer that we don't invite people to come to our Church simply because it is

"OURS"

Huh??? Stay with me as I try to work this out...

We humans are proud of "Our" stuff. Whether we're talking about our car, family, or even our college, taking pride in things that are important to us will always shine through to others. The first thing I think of, is how proud I am of my son. I love to tell people about the things he's done, and if you've read my blog for any length of time, you know this much is true. I'm also proud of my wife and all she has accomplished, and most of all for putting up with me and proving how tough she really is. I'm also proud of my service in the Army and I always feel a kinship when I am around any other veterans, especially Tankers. But what about Church?

When it comes to Church, I am extremely proud of my Church. There have been disagreements and other rifts over the years, but I still see it as a city on a hill that's still reaching the lost, one soul at a time. The problem I have is that I haven't invited anyone to come to my Church in a very, very long time. And, I'm puzzled by this fact. But why? Let's go further into what makes me tick...

When I was in High School, I had a 1965 Mustang. I was ridiculously proud of this little red car that Dad and I had painstakingly restored to pristine condition. I never let anyone else drive it, ever. Neither did I permit anyone to ride in it if they had dirt on their shoes. I even remember washing it on the carport after driving it in the rain one time! I guess I was so proud of this car that it became my most valuable possession. But why not? After all, my folks had in trusted me with it, and it was up to me to make sure I cared for it. It was my life for two years... then I sold it and used the money at college.

Church... we are His Church. God gave us His son so we could come to Him and be called His. But not only "His", all believers are HIS CHURCH and he calls us to reach the lost and bring them to Him. If you think about it,

We Christians have the greatest, most valuable gift living inside of us that nothing can even come close to, and that is the Holy Spirit

And, the neat thing about having the Holy Spirit is that we are called to share it with others and help them get it. It is a well that never runs dry, gets sold out of inventory, or becomes obsolete. But I like to quote Cousin Eddie from National Lampoons Christmas Vacation, "It's the gift that keeps on giving".

So, what have you done this Christmas season to reach others for Christ? What gift have you given? This picture at the right is the simple invitation I handed out this year, and I'm offering it to you, the reader, as well. I'm inviting you to my Church, but then again, any Church in general will do for this simple invitation. I've personally invited a couple people to Church this season in a hopes of bringing them closer to Him. One was easy to invite, while one took a huge step out of my comfort zone. But then again, He is worth a little bit of discomfort for what He's done...

Not Tonight Tooth Fairy...

2007-12-14T14:23:00.000-05:00

"Not tonite! Tomowwo is a very Busy day! O.k."

My cousin Ann sent me this picture yesterday and I have been chompin' at the bit to post it here for everyone to enjoy.

You see, Ann's daughter Sarah finally lost her front tooth. I guess she had heard so much about the Tooth Fairy, that she wanted nothing more than to catch him sneaking into her room so that she could see exactly who, or what the Tooth Fairy really is. The only problem was that she was too tired to wait up and unmask the legendary figure. So, to give her the time she needed, she simply wrote the Tooth Fairy a note, requesting his return the following night when she'd be prepared.

If we could peek into the psyche of a child's head, I'm pretty sure we'd be in awe of the innocence we would find there. I know that I am amazed by the little things that come out of my son's mouth. The questions about "things", you know, the things we just know and obviously take for granted. But, it's also a little humbling and even scary to think that whatever we tell them will be absorbed like a sponge and become a part of them. This worries me because if you know me, you know that I am "slightly sarcastic"... Actually, I love to mess with people and joke around with them. I guess I need to be much more sensitive to how I answer his questions because he hangs on my words and believes me.

Sarah's note is a great black and white, concrete exhibit of just how much innocence God has in trusted to parents. And, I'm reminded to tread lightly on it. I don't want to shelter my kid, but then again, I do want to keep the World from messing with him for now. Obviously, the World is always picking on us and them, the Enemy is alive and well, and we have our own sinful nature or flesh that prowls within. Just another reminder to be armored up and aware at all times. But, I sure hope Sarah gets him...

SORE AFRAID...

2007-12-12T16:25:00.000-05:00

Did you ever notice what the first thing every Angel has to speak when coming into contact with a human?

"Do not be afraid"...

Obviously, they must be pretty scary/terrifying to look at because over and over, they have to let everyone know that they are not to be feared, they come in peace, they bring great tidings of joy, etc, etc, etc...

Marci, Will and I had a speaking part in the Church Christmas musical, 'We Bow Down'. Our part was comprised of walking on stage and taking turns reading the Christmas story of the Angel and the Shepherds, Ala the Peanuts Christmas Special of which Linus canonizes through his monologue. Well, ours turned into a Trialog if there is such a word, in which my four year old son led off with,

There were Shepherds living out in the fields keeping watch over their flocks at night...

He performed flawlessly and I even think I heard a few 'Oohs' and 'Ahhs' from the crowd. Obviously, he's a pretty cute little guy. But, his cuteness turned into perfectionist as I recited the next line.

And an Angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shown round about them, and they where SORE AFRAID...

Just then, my little angel shouted into the microphone,

"TERRIFIED!!!!"

I paused, looked down at him, and then spoke these poetic words:

"Uhhhh...... Terrified."

Obviously, there were a few laughs and giggles from the audience due to the fact that Will had gotten the Old Man. Anyway, Marci was next and she performed her parts flawlessly.

We finished our parts, had a seat, and after the show, countless people told me to get some help from Will before I did anymore speaking. But, I can't blame this mistake on not memorizing the lines because I did study them. We studied them. We practiced them as family. Over and over and over...

Herein lies the problem: I grew up with the King James Version not the New International Version. This play and our part was in the NIV and although I practiced in the proper translation, when the moment arose, I reverted to my memory from years past. It reminds me of the saying about taking a country boy out of the country, but never being able to take the country out of the boy. Just like a country personality is ingrained in him, the KJV is in me and I guess always will be, even though I like the NIV better.

Who knows, maybe there will be a New New International Version (NNIV) when Will becomes an adult and he'll say "Terrified" and his little boy will correct him with "In Great Fear and Horror" or some other synonym for terror. I hope he gets the chance to see that love of God's PERFECT Word in his child as I have seen in mine...

Forgiving an Accidental Robber...

2007-12-10T14:00:00.000-05:00

Will and I had a little father-son time to hunt for the items we needed, kill them, tie them to the bumper, and triumphantly return home with our spoils. The objects of our desire for this "hunt": a flag pole and bracket to mount on the side of the house and a bunch of other little odds and ends. So off to Lowe's on Saturday we went.

We did our usual hoist-and-lift into the buggy and down the never ending aisles we went. We quickly found the 5' flag poles and bracket and added them to the cart. Will liked the flagpole because it reminded him of a lance. You see, we recently watched Braveheart together, and he decided it'd be fun to hold the flagpole as if it were a lance and he were charging the fields at Bannockburn, as the English of course. I thought it was a little dangerous, but fun so I played along as much as possible with the following rule:

You must hold the lance (flagpole) up until I say "Charge!!!!"

This rule was put into play to keep us from injuring any innocent bystanders (Shoppers) that just happened to wander onto the battlefield. With this single rule, we spent the next twenty minutes finding aisles with no people in it so that we could get up enough speed to make it fun and call out "Charge". Upon the utterance of that word, I would be at top speed, and Will would drop the flag pole and search for a target. Maybe it would be a garbage can, or my personal favorite, another shopping cart. Looking back, I still can't believe that we weren't asked to leave, but then again, we were moving around so much that the store employees probably couldn't keep up with us.

When our jousting matches were cut short by a scheduling conflict (We had to go pick up Marci and her Mom at the Mall), we proceeded to the checkout line, paid for our items and out the door we went with one more joust in the parking lot, comprised of attacking an ominous cigarette receptacle and of course, defeating it soundly.

But that's when it happened... When I lifted Will out of the cart, I realized that the bracket we were there to purchase was still in the cart. I guess my son had been sitting upon it when we went through line, and I had forgotten to pay for it. It was in that instant that I realized my fleshly nature is still alive, still kicking, and still trying to manifest itself in my daily life. I know this because the very second I realized I hadn't payed for the bracket, a voice inside of me said loud and clear,

"Just stick it in the bag and go to the car"

And even worse, I considered it! But, I also came to my senses and realized that was wrong and how horrified I would be should my son one day do this. That's when the still small voice pinged me with the following:

BINGO! Father-Son Moment Life Lesson Time!!!

I quickly grabbed the bracket from inside the cart and showed it to Will. I told him, and I quote,

"Uh Oh! We forgot to pay for this."

"Dad you are a Robber!" He said. "You robbed Lowe's!"

"Will," I said, "You are right. I did take it out of the store without paying for it, but it was an accident."

"You're still a Robber," he said.

Puzzled with what to do next, I simply said, "Even Robbers can be forgiven so let's go back in the store and pay for this. That's the right thing to do isn't it?"

"Yep, it is" He said.

I took his hand and led him back into the store to the register. We found a Self-Checkout that was unattended, scanned the item, and paid cash for it. He got his point across to me, and I pray I did the same...

The Only Book that Really Matters...

2007-12-05T20:36:00.000-05:00

I'm leading a new study at Church. Well, actually it's an old study of old topics designed to shed some light on why our Church believes like we do. You see, my Church is actually a non-denominational denomination... Huh? Just stay with me and you'll get it later.

I was raised in a Southern Baptist Church. I was first saved on Mothers Day when I was 11 years old. I was shortly thereafter baptised with my Mom, Dad, and sister and became a member of the Church and started learning the doctrine. I learned that once you are saved, your saved forever. I also grew to believe that baptism was simply something you did so that you could call yourself a member of the Baptist Church.

Fast forward 20 or so years...

It's 2002, I'm married, my wife is expecting, and I've been attending her "Home Church" which is a congregation of the Church of God (the Anderson, Indiana Church of God, not the Pentecostal Cleveland, Tennessee Church). I'm not close to God, and I'm confused. I was taught eternal security, but didn't feel as though I was saved, even though I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was converted on Mothers Day 19 years prior. Obviously, God was working on me and working on me hard.

The Pastor at this Church is about my age, which was a real odd thing to me, but a really good thing. He preached over an over how Christianity is a lifestyle and not simply a 'Sunday-Wednesday Thing' overshadowed by a doctrine. It's about knowing God, worshipping God, Loving God, and even more, letting God love you back. That was something I always seemed to miss.

But the strangest thing about this new Church I was attending was the fact that they were not a "Denomination" but a "Movement". The Baptist in me had to learn more. I had to figure out what the boundaries of the Doctrine are and just what it takes to be a member. What I learned was that the Doctrine is pretty close to Baptist: no drinking or dancing. But, the biggest difference was that this Church did not agree with the Baptist/Calvinist belief that 'Once in Grace, Always in Grace'. But that was OK with me because I had always considered a one time commitment to Christ as a blank check, so to speak. And I always cringed when someone I debated this belief with and had backed into a corner, simply replied with "He/She wasn't saved to begin with". I always thought that was a cop-out.

So back to membership....

One of the things that makes the Church of God Reformation Movement (it's full name) unique is that it's pews are filled with members from tons of different denominations. There are your ex-Catholics, Baptist, Methodists, Lutherans, etc. with one thing in common, a thirst and a hunger for more of God. But I always thought this could cause problems due to the different belief systems/interpretations that the members may bring to the table.

Fast forward to my Wednesday night class...

What better thing to study than what the Church believes? On the first night, I had an ex-Freewill Baptist, Baptist, and my personal favorite, an ex-Lutheran/Catholic/Methodist. As you can see, the diversity is pretty good. And, we kicked off with most people's favorite to differ on beliefs: END OF TIMES!!!! Long story short, we had a good time discussing how the Church holds to the Amillenial view.

The next teaching topic on the agenda is membership. Unlike Baptist and several other Doctrines, the Church of God doesn't have "membership". Sure, there is a roll that one can sign on after they've attended for at least six months, but this is for voting on things like the budget, elders, Pastoral calling, etc. The way we see it is that if your name is written in the only book that really matters (the Lamb's Book of Life), that's good enough for the Church. As the old hymn of the Church says:

"We reach our hands in fellowship to every blood washed one"

It's good enough for the Church, it's good enough for me, and it's a snapshot of how Heaven will be one day...

Pan-Millenialists Don't Worry About Tomorrow...

2007-11-30T14:32:00.000-05:00

History Revisionists are alive and well. If you don't know what I'm talking about, just Google it. You'll find that they are "scholars" that write about history in such a way that it fulfills the agenda that they support. I really hope I'm not one of these guys.

I'm driving my son to the Doctor today and he asks me to tell him a story about war. After a few seconds, I decided to introduce him to the Civil War. So, for the next ten minutes, I gave him a complete rundown on the entire Civil War from start to finish. I started at Fort Sumpter and ended at Appomattox.

He sat there silent as I spoke of battles, bravery, and a final surrender in which Grant allowed Lee to keep his sword. After I had given what I thought was probably the greatest cliff notes version of the Civil War, my little boy asked me a simple question....

"Why?"

"Why what?" I asked.

"Why did Americans fight each other in the Civil War?"

That's when it hit me. I was now faced with explaining something that has been under politically correct scrutiny for years. But I'm not debating with an adult, this time I'm teaching a young mind that is being sculpted by God, Marci and I and we are molding it into what he will become in the future. I didn't want to be a history revisionist so I told him what I believed, in a manner that I hoped he could understand. I told him this:

The people down South were mad because the people up North weren't paying them enough for their goods. The Southerners started sending their stuff to Europe which made the North mad, and then the North decided to abolish slavery but the South didn't, so the next thing you know the Southern States start to secede from the Union...

Now he was really confused.

There are so many different arguments about the cause of the Civil War. I've heard it was a "War Against Slavery" and I've also heard it was a "War for States Rights". Today, we see it in the news as we fight in far off places in the "War against Terror" or as some call it, "War for Oil". Each have valid arguments, but neither seem to be able to prove they are the number one, root cause of the conflict.

So what about the end of times? You know, the stuff in Revelations that everyone seems to have a different interpretation of. There are Pre-Millenialists that believe there's going to be a rapture, the Antichrist, 666 on your forehead, a huge battle called Armageddon, and then judgement. There are the Post-Millenialists that believe things are going to get better and better and then Jesus will come. And last there are the Amillenialists that believe the battle of Armageddon has been going on for some time in the spiritual realm between good and evil, Jesus will come back, judgement will occur and the earth will burn up and eternity begins. All can be argued to a standstill, except maybe Post-Millenialism that was blown out of the water when World War II, 9/11, and all the other tragedies have occurred to show that things really aren't getting any better.

I've decided that I am Pan-Millenial when it comes to the end of times. If you've never heard of this belief, it's not new but actually old. I know that the prophecy written in Revelations cannot be interpreted by me so I've resigned myself to the fact that everything is going to Pan Out in the future because we know that we really do win in the end!

So, why worry about what's going to happen in the future, when we can't agree on a single interpretation? So much time and money is spent on prophecy conferences, books, and movies that have nothing to do with discipling others and walking with the Lord. I'm reminded that Jesus said it best when He said, "Don't worry about tomorrow"...

The Death Wobble...

2007-11-29T13:33:00.000-05:00

I'm a jeep person. I love my '99 Wrangler and hope to drive her until the wheels come off. Well, over the past few months I've been expecting them to do just that every time the needle reaches 56 mph. It's at that moment that the steering wheel starts to shake back and forth, and ultimately crescendos into a loud, violent rattle that makes me feel like I'm riding on the back of this dog at the right. But, thank goodness its not a dog, it's a jeep. And, it's my method of transporting my son to school, myself to work, and my wife and I as we cruise with the top down. So, gotta get it fixed.

I started the research process on Google. I tried the phrases "Jeep shaking" and was immediately greeted by a ton of articles related to what Jeep Enthusiasts abhorrently refer to as 'THE DEATH WOBBLE'. I thought great, now I can find how some smart person cured it, but was I wrong. There is no cut and dry single root cause of the death wobble. I read articles that told me to everything from replacing the entire front end, to simply having the front tires balanced. So, since I'm a newly converted Dave Ramsey follower, I took the least expensive first and had the tires balanced. Guess what, the wobble went away almost completely and is hardly noticeable. Is it cured 100%? No, but the teeth jarring, wheels flying off fear is now gone. Will it come back? Probably, but it's only $10 to have the wheels balanced so I'll just budget in $40 a year to get this done.

Hmmmmm.... Ever had the Death Wobbles in your own life? Ever gone through a season were everything goes well and you may even be making a ton of progress and then it starts. Slowly at first, then building into a calamity of immense proportions that causes you to feel like your world is coming apart and you are about to crash because you feel like you just can't hang on!!! I know I have and I also know that Jesus himself said that the Christian would go through tough times, most of the time.

Many think that when you become a Christian, your troubles are over. Boy are they wrong. Following Christ is a dangerous thing to do. You will scrutinized, chastised, and maybe even punished for your faith. Even Jesus himself was punished just because he was Jesus. Think about it, Pontius Pilot told the crowd he couldn't find anything wrong with him and the next minute, he has him flogged!! But wait a minute, I thought he couldn't find anything wrong with him?

So, expect the death wobbles to come in your Christian walk. But, they are only temporary, and can't even compare with the incredible joy of salvation. Even in the worst of the worst times, and when it feels like the wheels are coming off, there really is JOY, JOY UNSPEAKABLE AND FULL OF GLORY! It's worth it...

Why I Blog...

2007-11-26T16:02:00.000-05:00

I've missed something... and I just noticed it. What I have just come to realize, is that almost every blog I visit has a post somewhere in it's archives that is devoted to the reason the author chose his or her particular little corner of the blogosphere to call home and why.

Hummmmmm....., I don't think I have ever explained why I own 'Man Coming Alive', why I named it that, or even what gives me the right to write things down here. So, just in case the blogosphere cops come snooping, here goes:

Men's Study 2004 - I helped lead a men's study of the John Eldredge book 'Wild at Heart'. All through that book, Eldredge talks of coming alive in Christ and accepting your role as a man of God. Me and 10 other guys got it. We all came alive and were made more aware to God's grace, forgiveness and blessings and stepped up and accepted our place in His battle. We all 'Came Alive' as Christians. We weren't dead or anything like that, just snoozing.

Discovered what a "Blog" was April 2005- One day while searching for references to the Holy Spirit being described as 'the Wild Goose', I found a blog that a guy in Colorado writes about his family. I was intrigued that this guy wrote about what happens in his day to day life, what God was doing in his family, and just his every day guy stuff/ramblings. But even more so, I wondered just who in the world really cares. That's when I found our that he has a reader base of around 600 people that care about his ramblings.

August 2005- Decided that maybe someone would want to read what God was doing for me. I took the leap and created a free blog on blogger and decided that I would write about what God spoke to me, taught me, and showed me through my everyday life. If anything, I thought it would be a great way to get it down before I forgot it. So, using the John Eldredge 'Coming Alive' theme, Man Coming Alive was born.

So, two plus years later, I'm still here, still writing and still coming alive. My reader base is only around 30 or so per day, but of that, 700 or so are faithful to log on at least monthly and read about a common guy's walk with Christ and what I learn along the way. I know for a fact that God speaks to me through everyday things and I've written a ton of posts that prove it. If you've noticed, I keep everything current and I don't write about things that happened years and years ago because to be honest with you, I'm ashamed I wasn't following His lead then. You won't find many stories about when I was a kid because I only want what is current, fresh, and newly spoken to me through my life now.

Looking back, I'm glad that God led me to this little corner of the blogosphere. If I didn't blog, I'd have missed out on a wealth of info because, and you can ask my wife, I've got a really crappy short term memory. I'm sure I've missed a few here and there, but at least I've captured and expanded on many of the good ones through blog posts. And that my friends is why I, and every other Christian should write down what God teaches them. Remember, His grace tip-toes around our everyday experiences in this world. And it's only when we see with the eyes of our heart that we are able to learn what He's trying to teach us. This is my story about those little glimpses I've had...

Stop the Insanity...

2007-11-21T10:08:00.000-05:00

Last night was the yearly showing of the Peanuts Thanksgiving special on TV. We normally watch it, but Marci and I attended a going away party for one of our friends, and had to miss it. But, Will watched it with Nana and hasn't stopped talking about Snoopy, Linus, and how mean Lucy is every time Charlie Brown tries to kick the football.

I'm sure you know this story, that's illustrated in the picture at the right. But, if you've been living in a cave, under a rock, or on another planet for the past 30 or so years, here's the quick and simple explanation:

Charlie Brown wants to kick the football. Lucy tells him she'll hold it for him. He goes to kick it and she pulls it away at the last second. Charlie's momentum is such that he cannot stop and goes flying through the air and lands several feet away with a severe headache. And to make matters worse, Lucy walks away laughing at him.

This has been a recurring theme in almost every Peanuts cartoon that I've ever seen. Every time Lucy holds the football for Charlie, she pulls it away. Charlie even tells her that he knows she's going to pull it away but he tries to kick it anyway, failing miserably time after time. In one episode, Charlie tries to sneak up on her but her "spidey senses" must have warned her, because once again, she pulls it away. Over and over, Charlie loses out and gets hurt. But, he keeps trying because he thinks he will one day succeed.

Benjamin Franklin once wrote that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. In Charlie Brown's case, he is so trusting in Lucy that he is willing to believe she will not pull the ball away. Even though she does every time, he tries to kick it. Is he insane? Or is he just to afraid to do something different to alter the outcome?

Think about this from a spiritual standpoint... What would you like to change, if you could change anything about your spiritual life? AND, are you doing anything different to change it? I know that I for one, get "stuck in a rut" of going through the same "religious" paces over and over.

My friend Roy Hooker has been writing a ton of convicting stuff lately about everything from praying before eating to attending Church and how we go through the motions without ever attempting to do anything different. For instance, how many of you say the same prayer at the "Appointed Prayer Time" that falls in the slot between sitting down at the table and passing the rolls? This is just one example, but if you sit and take inventory, I'm sure you'll compile a nice sized list in a short period of time.

So, if you are up for it, I want you to think about what you may have settled on as the only outcome for a certain aspect of your spiritual life. Now, ask God to open up a door and teach you what you can do to get a better result. In my case, God's led me to learn more about my family's finances and stewardship so that I can better glorify him. Maybe it's not finances, but something as simple as praying an honest prayer and really thanking him before a meal... Maybe it's overcoming a fear of lifting a holy hand during worship... But whatever it is, try it.

In Charlie Brown's case, two sticks would have teed up that football up good enough to boot it down the field. But, that would have required him to do some work and put forth some effort. He'd have had to found the sticks, trimmed them, and experimented with them until he had the football set up just right. It would have taking some time, some sweat, and maybe even some frustration, but in the end, the result would have been a victory rather than a same ol' same ol' lump on the head...

PS- Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!!!

Typos...

2007-11-15T08:20:00.000-05:00

I've come to the sobering realization that my grammar stinks. I found this out by going through my previous posts and re-reading them in hopes of jogging my memory for a new topic to blog. Well, I got that new topic, after spending about two hours correcting simple words and phrases that I had obviously 'Fat Fingered' the first time around. So, today it's all about 'Typos'.

The word 'typos' is a strange word. I know it's short for typographical error but it kinda sounds like a Greek word. I even envision the Greek god Typos, god of all mistakes, errors, and fat fingers.

As I reviewed the past year or so of posts, the errors I found were mainly simple mistakes that the spell checker had failed to catch. Things like "their" instead of "there", "were" instead of "where", and the occasional run-on sentence. All simple, all common, and all of them making me feel as though I am definitely not smarter than a fifth grader.

My question is why did I make these simple errors? Surely after years of writing and blogging, all of the practice would have paid off and I could write error free. WRONG! And then I am reminded of why they place a spell checker on every word processing program. Heck, that's why they put an eraser on the end of every pencil too.

My friend Andy (an awesome writer), described it best to me when he told me that most times we are more concerned with getting our thoughts down before we forget them, and that we don't worry to much about the grammatical part of what we're writing. Sure, we use the best real-time grammar, spelling, an word choice we possibly can, but we are really more concerned with getting the main points, the guts of the work, in black and white. In my case, I write mainly about my daily life and what God teaches me along the way. So when I write, I try to put down what He has and is speaking to me as quick as I can, because I'm afraid I'll forget these divine thoughts if I don't. And, when we do anything quickly, you better believe there is a higher chance of errors.

Last night in our men's study at Church, my friend Gary (a professional writer) and I were talking about proofreading. He told me that he and a friend in Indianapolis proof each other's pieces prior to submitting them. But, he also told me that after one of his is published, he never fails to find something he would like to have changed or written a little different. I told him I can relate to this every time I skim through a few pages of my book and find some simple little thing that screams at me from the pages, begging me to revise it.

Bottom line is, I've got a long way to go before I am perfect. Actually, though I strive for perfection I know I will always fall short and there is nothing me, you, or Typos the Greek deity can do about it. I can aim small and miss small, but in the end, it's still a miss. Though my humanness is weak and far from perfect, I gotta' praise Him for His grace and the simple fact that I'm forgiven. That really is all that matters, and keeps me typing away...

321 Little Hands...

2007-11-12T08:56:00.000-05:00

"Uncle Donny, Can you come to our Veterans Day program at my school on Friday?"

My niece Chloe's sweet little voice tickled my ears with this request. I couldn't refuse so I told her that I wouldn't miss it for the world. But little did I know what was in store for me.
I arrived at her school Friday morning and made my way to the gym. From what I understood, the teachers and students had put together a Veterans Day program in which each grade would sing a song about America and a State Representative would be speaking. As I got to the gym and plopped myself down beside my Sister-in-Law, she quickly told me that I couldn't sit by her (big shock!) and went on to tell me that I had to go sit 'up front'. I asked her why and she told me that all Vets had to sit together because they would be recognized. So, I made my way up to the chairs next to the podium.

When I got there, I realized that I was one of the younger guys there. I sat down and looked around. In front of me was a man that wore a hat adorned with patches and pins. I saw the words "Ranger" and "WWII Veteran" and even "Jungle Expert" on his cap and thought to myself what stories he could tell. I also saw an older man wearing a Purple Heart medal and another with a Bronze Star.

"JEEEEEZE!" I thought to myself, "I don't deserve to even sit anywhere near these guys." I never saw combat, never served overseas, and the only time I ever got shot at was when an Alpha Company tank mistook our tank for a target and hit us with their machine gun accidentally (luckily we were inside). I was about to get up and move when the music started, and the program officially began. I was stuck, so I nervously scanned over the schedule. To make matters worse, I saw where there was a part of the program when each Vet would be asked to stand and tell their Branch of Service and who we were there to represent. I was nervous about doing this in such a great cloud of Veterans, that is until I locked eyes with Chloe, who was seated in the floor in front of us and she smiled at me. I then realized that I was there for her and she was proud enough of me to ask me to be her representative.

The program went off without a hitch, and I proudly stood up and told my name, US Army, and "I'm here today representing Chloe VanHorn". She smiled at me from the crowd of little faces and I smiled back.

When the program was over, the teacher in charge of it gathered all of us up and formed us into a horseshoe shaped line in front of the podium. We all stood there for a minute wondering what was next. I looked down and saw one of my soccer players approach me, hand me something, and walk off. I looked at what Luke had given me and it was a simple little card he had made for me that said, through stickers and crayon marks, simply "Thanks for being a veteran". I was touched.

That's when the kids showed up with outstretched hands. While I was receiving my card, I failed to notice that the teachers had lined up each class and started them down the line of Veterans shaking hands as they went. So, I started shaking hands. I shook, and shook, and shook, and shook some more. They kept coming in little waves with outstretched hands.

I noticed something about kids during all of this: Only one out of ten would look at you in the eyes when they shook. And One out of maybe twenty would have a firm shake. It's funny, but I have always made presumptions about a person's personality by their handshake and I was getting lots of practice now. I could tell which kids were shy, goofy, assertive, and just plain tough, by the way they shook my hand.

When it was all said and done, I shook 321 little hands on Friday. It is a pleasure to see God's children up close like this and wonder just what these same little hands may one day accomplish. Who knows, I may have shook a President's hand on Friday. Or, maybe a great inventor or scientist. But on the dark side, I may also have shook a murderers hand. So today, my prayers are for the owners of those little hands and for those that shape them into what they will one day become.

Could Your Son Please Watch the Cartoon Network???

2007-11-06T13:50:00.000-05:00

I'm in trouble with my son's Preschool teacher. You might be thinking, "Big deal, it's Preschool and your wife is after all, the principal". I thought those things too, but this time it's not a bad thing I'm in trouble over. Actually, it's funny and his teacher was laughing about it when she told us. The problem lies in the fact that I am raising myself, and I am showing up through my son on a daily basis. Confused? I'll explain:

My little boy is fascinated by war as I have been all my life. Be it cowboys and Indians, infantry duels, or my personal favorite, tank battles, he is all over it. Almost every night, there is a battle of some type in our living room floor. I wrote post about one our epic battles in August, and I must say that they only gotten better, and more interesting as he learns more about all things military.

Case in point- He asked me if ships could fight each other. I explained how they fought and told him about my favorite movie on this subject 'Master and Commander'. He was excited about seeing ships battle, so we watched it together and he has been hooked on Naval history and warfare since then. And, I remind you, he's 4 going on 5...

Along with all of this, I've watched his creative energy flow into his drawings and colorings. It's nothing for him to take a plain white sheet of paper and entertain himself for 45 minutes drawing, working, and asking me strange questions such as, "Dad, what color is France's flag?" and "What are those things called that hold the sails on the tall ships?"

This leads me to being nicely and jokingly reprimanded by my son's teacher. It seems that they have a portion of their class time devoted to free drawing. When each child is finished, they sit in a circle and the teacher holds up each drawing and tells the class what it represents. Usually the kids will draw a tree, or a dog, or something that resembles a house, you know, something normal...

The other day, my son's teacher came to my wife's office with one simple request:

"Could you please let Will watch the Cartoon Network?"

Marci asked what she was talking about. She went on to tell Marci that all Will draws are ships, tanks, flags, and he gives each one of them a particular war or battle that they are in. For instance, one was Custer's Last Stand while my personal favorite was a picture of two ships slugging it out ala Master and Commander. The problem she is having is that she has to write on the picture what it signifies such as, 'This is France's ship and this is England's' and 'This is the cross of St. George and this is the dragon'. The other problem is when it's time to explain each child's drawing to all the others in the class. I guess it would be kind of hard to explain what his drawings are all about in a way that 3 and 4 year old kids can understand.

So tonight, I guess we'll try some Cartoon network and maybe a smattering of Spongebob Squarepants. I'd rather be watching something about the Eastern Front 1944, but we'll have to save that one for another day. And as for the drawings, if asked, I'll advise my little boy to do what I do and that is that you draw (or write) whatever it is that God puts on your heart. It was God that wrote the quality of warrior on every man's heart and there is no way to keep it from coming out from time to time. I just never dreamed it would at 4 years old...

Had A Bad Day...

2007-11-05T08:53:00.000-05:00

"You had a bad day, You're taking one down, sing a sad song just to turn it around..."

I'm down... Yesterday at about 11:30 AM, I came to the realization that an era in my Christian life, with regards to the Church, ended. In the Sunday service, my Senior Pastor passed the baton to a new interim pastor. My Senior Pastor was recently called to shepherd a Church in Phoenix, Arizona. He accepted the calling and Sunday was his final sermon. I wasn't blind to this fact because I knew it had been in the works for a while. But, it didn't sink in until yesterday.

So today, I'm down...

I've heard a few people say, "When the Pastor leaves, I'm leaving too." But then again, I hear that there is another group of people saying, "When he leaves, we're coming back!" Such is the ugly side of this thing we call "Church", and the political crap that comes along with it as self-righteous "Christians" compete in a power struggle to make sure they are glorified rather than God. I look around our congregation and wonder what would happen if Jesus came back right now? But then again, when I start judging, I am becoming self-righteous and sinking to their level.

As for me and my house, first of all, I'm praying about it. Of course, that's the easy answer to give when asked what you think about something/anything. It's the easy answer because, my goodness, who's going to question the fact that you are seeking God's counsel?

Second, I do not attend Church because of a person or the size of the building. I attend Church to celebrate the worship of God that I've been doing all week outside of the Church. If you are going to a Church simply because of a particular person preaching, keep in mind that this is exactly what Jim Jone's flock was practicing as they drank their Koolade.

Third, there is no person, place, or thing that is going to come between me and my relationship with God. And, there is nothing of this earth that I will allow to put a hold on me and jeopardize mine or my family's salvation. It's not worth getting ahead or being glorified in this life to end up going to hell in the end thinking you are saved.

So, I'm sad I'm losing my Senior Pastor and I gotta say that I'd be remiss if I didn't admit that I am envious of the North Hills Church of God in Phoenix, Arizona. It's a tough time right now as my home Church is going through this time of flux, but it will go on. I guess I'll just take the easy way out and say that I'm praying about it...

Halloween Wears Me Out...

2007-11-01T12:20:00.000-04:00

Of course, it wouldn't be my blog unless I posted a picture of Will's costume for this year. Wolverine, or WILLverine as he likes to be called, made his rounds trick-or-treating at all family and friends we could manage to get to within the two-hour time period. The problem with Halloween is that there is never enough time to drive to 10 different houses so that everyone can "OH" and "Ah" over our kid's costume and give him tons of candy that will go bad before we (and I emphasize) WE, can consume it all.

From the Christian perspective, I can see where Halloween should really not be observed (I guess this is the only thing that I can somewhat agree with the Jehovah's Witnesses about). BUT, I have to look at it from the perspective that we are not celebrating the occult, knowingly or unknowingly. I also can say without conviction that I have never dressed up my kid to glorify the Satan. If anything, Halloween has become a Holiday centered on koinonia and Christian fellowship with all the folks we visit. In fact, if it wasn't for Halloween, we would miss out on a perfect opportunity to reconnect, fellowship with, and finally get a chance/excuse to give a hug to some folks that we don't get to see as often as we should.

So, if you're worried about the celebrating a Holiday that some call a "Devil's Holiday", my advice to you is that you pray about it. Then after you've prayed, do what the Spirit tells you. I've done this, and I look forward to buying the costume and seeing my family and friends as we go trick-or-treating. But, my secret pleasure from all this commotion comes after everyone in the Prater house is fast asleep. That's when I like to sneak into the kitchen and pillage the goody bags to suck down a Reese Cup or two, and maybe throw in a hand full of Hershey kisses before anyone wakes up and catches me...

When We All Get to Heaven...

2007-10-30T13:29:00.000-04:00

I had a little glimpse into what it might be like one day when we arrive in heaven. Seriously, me, Marci, and about one hundred other folks got to see it. But, I may have been the only one that picked up on it.

Last night, we went to a birthday party. But not just any birthday party, because this one was for a guy that I respect beyond measure and obviously, by the turnout, I'm not the only one that feels this way about him. At 6PM we (and the other hundred or so) packed into a small Italian restaurant and awaited his arrival. "He" was my boss a few years ago and as I looked around, I knew about everyone there because of my past affiliation with them in the workplace. As I looked around there were smiles everywhere and people were coming up to me and saying the usual, "Man, how longs it been?" and, "Wow it's great to see you!", and my personal favorite, "I was thinking about you guys the other day." For about an hour I had the opportunity to enjoy the fellowship with long lost friends and others that I would have never expected to see. It was a homecoming in itself.

As we were all catching up, a lady stood up and announced, "He's five minutes away!" Many of the folks around me cheered, some clapped, but what amazed me was the sheer energy flowing through the room. I can only describe this as an incredible warmth, obviously from the love everyone has for this man, and it was so strong that you could actually feel the electric energy int he air.

As the tension mounted, another lady stood up on a stool and announced, "He just pulled in, everyone get ready!" That's when a hush fell over the packed room With everyone standing shoulder to shoulder and looking toward the front door, waiting, ready to spring forth the single word that will get the party started. I saw a figure approaching from the outside, then the door opened and in stepped the birthday boy. Next came the resounding:

"SURPRISE!!!!"

As you can imagine, he was grinning from ear to ear as he stood there looking into this sea of friends that had assembled to honor him on his special 50th Birthday. People started mobbing him with hugs, some kisses, and tons of handshakes. I have to admit that I was smiling with a grin that only the Cheshire Cat could have done justice as I got to wish him the best as he passed by and made his way through the crowd, that were all trying to get to him.

That's when it happened.... God spoke to me. Deep down inside, God told me simply,

"You'll get your day like this but it will be a heavenly one. Everyone will be waiting on you to get there and when you do, they'll wrap their arms around you and eternal party will begin!"

But I don't think I had ever thought of heaven like this before. I'd always thought of streets of gold, mansions, and of course the unbelievable presence of God. But, there are going to be all the other Saints that have gone on before us to fellowship with. And, we'll all know, love and respect each other.

So, right now, there is a party going on. An eternal surprise party of sorts and you are going to be the guest of honor at it one day. Since heaven is everlasting and timeless, who knows, someone may be standing up right now and giving the five minute warning for you, while the crowd is building in anticipation of your arrival. But instead of earthly presents, food, or drink, everyone is going mobbing you with love and trying to get the chance to be the first one to take you to see Jesus.

The Voice of the Lord...

2007-10-26T14:28:00.000-04:00

What is it going to take for me to accept the fact that God affirms Himself through others? Nothing... absolutely nothing, because I have been there, done that and have the T-shirt to prove it as of late.

As you may have noticed, I have been bombarding the "Blogosphere" lately with posts about hearing God's voice. Lately, I've been hearing Him loud and clear and have even had what he's speaking to me, affirmed through "Life Stuff". Everything from God telling me what a Selfish Crybaby I am, to God speaking to me through teaching the older adults Sunday school class at Church. It's turned into an almost everyday thing and I'm loving it!

For example, yesterday I had my carpet cleaned. No big deal to most, but the guy that cleaned my carpet attends Church with another guy that I just happened to run into in Lexington at Big Blue Madness in a crowd of 24,000 people. Still no big deal huh? Wrong! There is something both of these guys are connected with that just happens to be something I'm praying hard about and asking God to tell me what to do. Obviously, by running into these guys and talking to them, I have my answer loud and clear.

Another has to do with a good friend of mine from High School that is involved in something that is an issue at Church that I've been praying about. If all goes like I hope, it would be incredible, but there are many speed bumps and obstacles in the way. However, there are a ton of God-sized coincidences and connections that tell me it's going to happen and another unbelievable "God Thing" will occur right in front of me.

There have been a few little things too. For instance, I started the Dave Ramsey Financial Peace University program last week (I HIGHLY RECOMMEND), because I want a Biblical approach to managing money. The first step in it is to have a $1,000 emergency fund in the bank. I decided that I would not take any money out of checking and I decided that I would find this money somewhere else. After some prayers, I listed a bunch of stuff on eBay and let it sell. Guess how much money I made? If you guessed $1,002.37, you'd be correct. How's that for affirmation that what I'm doing is worth it to God!

I guess what I'm getting at is that I'm finding that God speaks through everyday things that are interconnected through a common spiritual thread. I knew this along time ago and that's why I started this blog in the first place. But it's only now (2 years later), that I'm really starting to get a little bigger picture of how He speaks to us. I've learned that when we pray about, ask God to reveal, and seek His face in what we are facing, He'll speak but you have to be ready to hear, or chose to hear/see it.

So, keep your eyes and ears open to what God may be trying to tell you. Or better yet, open your heart to all of those you come into contact with, God will do the rest...

The Selfish Crybaby I Am...

2007-10-23T14:42:00.000-04:00

I learned a lesson from God today through my son. I guess you could say that God threw a real "zinger" at me and it hit me right between the eyes.

This morning, my wife had to go to the Doctor because she was having pain in her abdomen. Not a big deal normally, but she is 5 months pregnant! So, she goes and calls me to tell me she is not allowed to go back to work and has to get blood drawn. I quickly finished up what I was working on and took off from work. I had to go pick up my son at his preschool and take him to meet up with my wife. I got to school 30 minutes before it normally lets out, and at the exact same moment the class was lining up to go out and play on the playground. Will was excited to see me and greeted me with a big hug. I told him we had to leave because Mommy was sick. And that's when it began...

After telling him we had to go, he started crying and saying that he wanted to play on the playground. I told him no, and followed it up with an apology and an explanation that we didn't have time because we had to get to where his mom was at. This wasn't good enough for him and his cries became louder and louder with objections such as, "Everyone else gets to play on the playground," and my personal least-favorite, "It's not fair!".

I remained calm though, and told him that playing could wait because his mom's and the baby's health was a lot more important. This didn't help the situation, and he continued to cry. I told him that he needed to see the big picture and listen to me, but this was to no avail. After all, he is only 4 years old and playing is his passion. When I had finally heard enough, I simply said to him, "I am not talking to you until you stop crying and get ahold of yourself. Then I'll tell you why we have to go." His cries continued for a moment, but when he realized that I was ignoring him, he settled down with a few muffled sniffs.

It was in this "quiet" that God spoke to my heart and told me,

"This is how you act towards me when I try to get you to do my will and you want to do what your selfish Self wants to do you big crybaby!"

Wow! What a kick in the hindquarters this was as I'm driving down the highway with a four year old sobbing in the car seat next me.

After a little while, I asked him if he loved Mommy and baby Rylan (that's in her belly). He told me he did very much. That was when I explained to him how it's scary to us when she feels bad and we are afraid for the baby. He seemed to understand this and his tears dried up. And better yet, when he got to his Mom, he gave her a big hug and asked how Rylan was doing.

So, now I know how God feels when he tells us to do something and we refuse. What he sees is a grown up crying and stomping around like a four year old denied his playground privileges. The scariest thing is when He decides to stop speaking to us until we come to our senses. My prayer today is not only for the health of my wife and unborn son, but also for my own spiritual ears to be perked up and my Self to be crucified so that I won't be such the "crybaby"...

Listening to God...

2007-10-22T13:52:00.000-04:00

I had the honor of leading the Older Adult Sunday School class on Sunday morning. I like to say that I led rather than taught, because I am half the age of most of them and the amount of spiritual and life wisdom in that room was overwhelming. Overall, I was truly humbled to share the message God had placed upon my heart. But I was even more humbled to have them receive it like they did.

All week long, God was leading me to speak on how we hear Him. So, I spoke on how God speaks to our hearts in a quiet voice, even though we expect a vocalized form of communication. I began the lesson by reading through Psalms 29, of how God's voice thunders, shakes, and strips the bark off the cedars of Lebanon. But, I've never had Him speak to me that way, and all the years of wisdom in the room also agreed that they hear a quiet voice within them. So, we talked about the "Still Small Voice" after that.

During my lesson, God revealed something in one of the scriptures that I have read and heard many times before. Isaiah 30:21 says this:

...and whenever you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear this command behind you: "This is the way, Walk in it."

I have always considered that scripture to simply mean that God will direct our paths (the right ones) whenever we feel like we do not know which way to go. But, I've never gone much deeper than that. I've always stopped with the idea that we are bee-bopping along through life, and when we come to a place of uncertainty, all we have to do is listen to where God tells us to go, and walk in it. But is this really all there is? Just go through life and when your stumped go to God, just like when you turn to the back of a crossword puzzle book for the answers? Here's what He revealed to me through a co-worker:

There's this fellow I work with that is almost deaf. Before I knew his condition, I had already noticed that he was always looking to the left and/or alternating to the right anytime I talked to him. I thought he had a problem with making eye contact until someone told me he could hardly hear. It was then that I realized he was simply turning his head so that he would have a direct line from my mouth to his ear drum. It took me a while to get used to this, but realized that the good thing about it is that he was paying enough attention to me that he would turn his head and aim his ears at me so he wouldn't miss anything.

So what about how this relates to listening to God? Sure, God is always talking to us and directing our paths and hoping that we will listen. But the sad fact is, we don't always listen to Him either by choice, or because of the millions of distractions and endless chatter thrown up by the world and the enemy that cause us to be hard of hearing. God revealed this about hearing Him:

To hear Him, we must focus on Him by aiming our whole self at Him so that we will not be distracted and so that His voice will have a straight line from His mouth to our hearts.

This is illustrated through the scripture by turning to the left or the right so that we are in direct "ear-shot" of His mouth. Now I realize that to better hear God, I gotta' be like my buddy at work and act as if I'm hard of hearing. No more "Selective Listening" as my wife called it one time...

Exercising Our First Amendment Rights...

2007-10-18T13:56:00.000-04:00

I always knew that the First Amendment to the Constitution gives all Americans the right to freedom of the press, religion, speech, and peaceful assembly. But, I never dreamed that I would finally find the exact place in the Smokey Mountains that is set apart and sanctified for this very purpose! Last week, we stopped at the North Carolina/Tennessee border that is located at the top of the mountain. This is the traditional stop for just about every person that ever goes to the Smokey Mountains because it has bathrooms and it gives you a chance to recover from the car sickness you may have developed on the curvy road up.

Since Will had never been there, we thought it'd be a good time to stop and let him see the mountains, take a few pictures, and of course allow my pregnant wife to visit the restroom. While walking to the restroom, I noticed this sign and just new it was a blog post waiting to happen.

Signs like this are very peculiar to me and they make me wonder what the real story behind them could be. I imagine that at sometime in the past, someone felt their first amendment rights were violated so they "Made a Federal Case out of it", and obviously won. Their victory granted them the privilege to stand by this sign, erected in their honor, and express themselves in whatever way they felt led. As you can see, Will and I expressed ourselves in this shameless manner, while countless tourists filed by us, just wondering what the heck we were doing.

This sign makes me wonder if we sometimes wait for a certain location or time to express ourselves for the Lord? Over the past hundred years or so, our society has grown to believe that Church and Christianity is simply a "Sunday/Wednesday Thing". I'm pretty sure that if you were to walk up to a stranger on the street and ask them when do people go to Church, you'd get this answer. Even I grew up believing this way. That is, until I realized that God is too big to put in a box and drag out whenever it's "His" time, of which we have deemed to be between the hours of 6 and 8PM Wednesdays and 9 to 12AM Sundays.

These truths I know: God is too big to put in a box, We are on God's time and he is not on ours, and most importantly, Christianity is a lifestyle of worship that occurs every day, all day in everything we do.

So, if you go to Church on Wednesday and Sunday that's great! Keep it up!! Just realize that Church services are not the only times that are set aside for worshipping God. Church services are simply a time to come together with other Christians and celebrate the worship you have been doing all week long.

Gone to Hell, Could've Been Saved...

2007-10-16T08:41:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about the story "Jonah and the Whale". Yeah, I know it wasn't necessarily a whale. Could've been a whale, a shark, a whale shark, or any other 'Great Fish' that swims in the sea. Anyway, I've been thinking about the story, and how God told him to "GO!" and Jonah went. He went so quickly that he ran the other way, stowed away, was thrown overboard, and swallowed by a leviathan and spent three days and nights in it's belly repenting.

But to do the story justice and go deeper, I have to start at the beginning of the story where God tells Jonah to "Go". God told Jonah he needed to get himself over to Nineveh and preach about the town's wickedness. Obviously, the whole town was a mess and God was pretty fed up with them. The part that strikes me funny, is that God gave Jonah a taste of the message he was to preach when he got there (the wickedness part), but later we find out that God gave the rest of the message after the whale/fish puked him out on the beach. If you'll recall, the rest of the story is that Jonah goes to Nineveh, tells the town it's going to be overthrown/destroyed if the people don't repent, the whole town repents and is spared.

The big question that I have is this:

What happened to those people God was trying to reach that died sometime during the three days and nights Jonah was in the belly of the great fish and not reaching out to them as God instructed him?

Obviously, the town of Nineveh was thoroughly wicked. So much so that God was getting ready to destroy it. But since He is gracious, He would send Jonah to warn them. But when Jonah ran and didn't get there when God wanted him to, people were still doing the same wicked things, dieing, and going to hell. Nineveh was a large town so I'm pretty sure they had several die in those three days. I can't help but wonder how many of those that died and went to hell could have been spared and eternity of separation from God, had Jonah not been a coward and RAN AWAY WHEN GOD CALLED HIM.

So, is there anything you are running from today? Or better yet, is there a conflict or disagreement that you know is going to turn into a fight, so you have resigned yourself to run from it, and take a coward's stance? Remember, if God is for you who can be against you...

Dancin' Across the USA...

2007-10-05T15:22:00.000-04:00

Once again, it's that time of year when we load everybody up, and head out in the family truckster for another vacation adventure. But this time, it's off to the mountains, rather than the beach.

I'll be back in a bit with lots of stories to tell about what God has taught me on this trip through His creation and my family. I'd appreciate prayers for safety and an unveiling of some mystery that He would allow me to have a glimpse of. ..

"Hey, hey, easy kids. Everybody in the car. Boat leaves in two minutes... or perhaps you don't want to see the second largest ball of twine on the face of the earth, which is only four short hours away? "

--Clark W. Griswold, National Lampoon's Vacation (1983)

How My Son Got a Soccer Partner...

2007-10-04T14:42:00.000-04:00

As I announced in an earlier post, we are expecting our second child on leap day (Febraury 29th). Today, we found out that it is going to be another BOY!!! So, my son now has a soccer partner on the way, just like the kid in this video. I've had this vid on my myspace page for a few months. Do yourself a favor and watch it. It's authentic in every way, even down to the Manchester United jersey...

Interlocking Pieces, Unlimited Restoration...

2007-10-03T10:19:00.000-04:00

A few years ago, we spent a week at Disney World in the Wilderness Lodge. The day we left to come home, we bought the coolest set of Lincoln Logs for Will (he was 2 years old at the time). This set was comprised of enough interlocking pieces to build a model of the Wilderness Lodge, and it even came with the entrance arch and the Disney character totem pole. I thought it was really cool, and couldn't wait to get time to build it with him.

A few weeks later, he and I unpacked the set and started building the Lodge. I followed the instructions to the 'nth degree and an hour later, had constructed an exact replica of the Wilderness Lodge. I was very proud of my accomplishment, so I went to get Marci to show her. While I was in the other room, I heard a loud crash, followed by several other strange, wood-on-wood tones. I hurried back to where the noise came from, and of course, the Lodge I built was now in pieces. And as you can imagine, I was a bit upset that the masterpiece I had so painstakingly crafted, now lay in pieces on the living room floor. But it was not only in pieces, there was a two year old boy wading through the bits of wood, kicking them as he went.

I tried to build a few other things with him right after this incident, but he wasn't too interested. He wouldn't help me build and opted for playing with his other toys. That is until I had built something large enough to destroy and he would return and smash, crush, and stomp. By now, it was crystal clear that Will wasn't ready for Lincoln Logs, so I packed them back into their tin, and stored them away.

While cleaning out a closet a few weeks ago, I found the tin and decided to reintroduced the logs to our older, "more mature" son (now he's four going on five). This time, he fell in love with them and we've spent a lot of time as of late, building towers, forts, planes, and even dinosaurs out of Lincoln Logs. But, I still see a little bit of the wild side (that I love) in him when we finish playing with what we've built, and it's time to start over. Of course, before you can start building again, you gotta' tear down the old one. And believe me, Will still has his uncanny talent for tearing down in a couple of seconds, what took us hours to build. But, since it's not the Wilderness Lodge, I actually enjoy watching him tear it down.

I've always heard that things have to get to there lowest point before they can get any better. But just where is the "lowest point"? In the case of the Lincoln Logs, its when there is no structure, just pieces. But what about in the real world? Obviously, the lowest point is when you feel all hope is lost, you think there is nowhere else to turn, your back's up against the wall, and you have hit the proverbial "Rock Bottom". But, the good thing about hitting bottom is that it makes you realize that there is nowhere to go but up! I bet you are ready to charge out of the tunnel and kick your problem in the butt after that motivational speech aren't you! Not if you're human...

Here's the deal spelled out as simply as I can. When "the wheels come off" in our lives and it seems like everything is torn apart (like the Lincoln Logs), there really is hope. No matter what sort of shambles things are in, be it in your family, finances, or even your church, God designed you to be an over comer. You were crafted by the Master and are comprised of a multitude of parts and pieces that are unique to you, and fit together to in a certain way that maximizes your talents and gifts. The problem is, many times some of our pieces aren't put together the way they need to be and our lincoln-log-existence may be leaning, or even worse, fall down and crash into pieces. But, Jesus is there to put us back together and make us whole, and even better, to make us NEW. It is only that we ask Him, turn it over to Him, cast our cares upon Him, and humble ourselves enough to realize that we just can't do it on our own.

So, if you are finding yourself at the rock bottom side of something today, look up! He is above, waiting for us to ask for help and calling us to turn to Him. His shoulders are big enough to carry any burden we have, even while He's doing a a NEW thing in our lives through His divine restoration.

Then the One seated on the throne said, "Look! I am making everything new." Revelation 21:5

Hearing God...

2007-10-01T08:32:00.000-04:00

Praise the Lord that He always thunders His voice to us so that we can here Him over every distraction! His voice is so loud that I have to carry extra ear plugs to pass out to all the people within a mile of me whenever he and I are "hanging out". If it wasn't for His unique clarity, I wouldn't know what choices to make, how to behave, or where to go if it wasn't for the crystal-clear, booming voice of God...

Did you ever hear the voice of God? I mean, did you ever have a voice boom out at you and speak truth to you in such a way that you knew it was none other than the Almighty? I guess if your name is Moses and you lived in the Old Testament times, this was quite normal. But what about today?

A few years ago, my wife and I were at Disney World in Florida with our Student Ministries Pastor and his family. We had been in the Magic Kingdom for about 15 minutes when suddenly, out of nowhere came a booming male voice that said,

"Attention Children of all ages, the Magic Kingdom is proud to announce that the parade will begin in five minutes."

None of us were expecting this voice. I'm pretty sure that all of almost jumped out of our skin when this voice came from wherever it came from (I didn't see any speakers), and assaulted us. I'm sure that some of it was due to the fact that were a bit road-wearyh having just completed the 16 hour journey by car. But, one funny thing that I do remember doing was turning to Pastor Peter and saying something to the effect of, "This must be how Moses felt."

He replied with a witty, "I know, I was getting ready to take off my shoes and lay down face first on the ground!"

It's a shame that God doesn't speak in the Old Testament style as He did to Moses. I know it would make my life a whole lot easier because I could simply do as I'm told and follow like a sheep should. But then again, I humbly admire the fact that God loves us so much that he is willing to risk it all with us, and allow us to accept or reject Him. But it all starts with hearing Him. Or better yet, learning how He likes to speak to us.

I've heard people say that God speaks to them through everything from movies to songs on the radio. I even heard a man at Promise Keepers tell an incredible account of how God uses birds (yes I said "Birds") to speak to him. I personally hear God in my heart through daily life and the "STUFF" that it entails. Actually, that's the reason I started this blog because I realized that God was speaking to me in the mundane, daily life stuff, and I was afraid I would miss it if I didn't collect my thoughts and write them down on this weblog. But the funny thing is, when He shows me what it is He wants me to learn, He whispers it. Not like an audible whisper, just a quiet little assurance in my heart that this is from Him, and is intended for me to take and use.

So, always remember that God is speaking all the time, in hopes that we will listen. Our problem is that we are looking for a verbalized speech instead of a quietness. I guess that's why they call it a whisper because it is so quiet. But to be able to hear God, we've got to draw close to Him in everything we do. Just like we cannot hear another person whisper to us from across the room, we cannot hear God if we put distance between ourselves and Him. I guess that's why God used this picture of whispering in someones ear to remind me of how important our spatial relationship to God really is...

"Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you..." (James 4:8)

Now I Know Why I Had to Come Here...

2007-09-26T21:17:00.000-04:00

Did you ever think about how many stories of Jesus' ministry begin with phrases such as, 'While traveling', 'While passing through,' 'As He went', etc.? In fact, just about all of His "hands-on" ministry moments occurred while He was on the road from one point to another. I had never thought about this until my Pastor made it a point of our discussion earlier this evening. He expanded it by saying quite simply, we need to be ready at all times and be walking God's way. Because after all, we are on His time not ours.

This really struck a chord with me because the primary reason that I write this blog is to expand upon and ruminate over the little things that God teaches me in my daily walk with Him. But it's not like He communicates in a thunderous voice, because that would be too easy. I really have to believe that He is a God that likes to woo us and test us to see if we are paying attention to what He's doing around us. I do my darnedest to pick up on the soft whispers and quick glimpses of Him that I see though out my every day, (and some might even say boring) average-Joe kind of life.

Anyway, tonight's discussion of how ministry happens 'along the way' was kicked off by my telling a story about a divine appointment that I had a couple weeks ago.

It was the usual Thursday morning at work and I was just getting my day started, when my phone rang. I looked down at the caller Id and saw that it was my boss on the other end, so I quickly answered. He told me that there was photographer coming today because he wanted to take some pictures of our facility. I asked why, and he told me that this photographer travels the world taking pictures of plants like ours to be used in a book he's writing. Obviously, I was interested to meet another published author, but I had this strong desire to say no because I didn't want to give up my time for some person that had nothing to do with my workplace, or it's success. But, since my boss asked me to, I agreed to take him around our place and show him whatever he wanted to see for however long he needed to see it.

I met him a few minutes later and proceeded to give him the nickle tour. He was impressed with our site and took a few shots of our processes in motion. After we finished the tour, I asked him how he had gotten into this hobby. He told me that he was a dentist for twenty years and made enough money to pursue this hobby he was so passionate about. I went on to ask him where he lived and he told me he had recently moved so that he and his wife could help his brother start a Church (Now I was really interested).

Then, the big kicker came... I asked him where he was going when he left our site, and he told me he was on the way to the DC area for a congregational conference on Men's Ministry. He told me that his congregation was trying to develop and implement some new directions in their ministry to men and he was going there to learn and share ideas. THIS WAS REALLY GETTING GOOD!

I told him that Men's Ministry is my passion and I help Churches develop their men's groups. I went on to tell him about my book and the recent study group that I led. He was pretty shocked and his parting words to me were:

"Now I know why I had to come here"
Praise the Lord for divine appointments that happen 'Along the Way'. I think that my friend Herschel said it best when he said, "God set this meeting up eons ago". I pray that God will use this meeting for His glory. I also pray that I can continue walking along HIS WAY so that I can be IN THE WAY for many more meetings like this.

So, next time a meeting just springs up out of nowhere and you instantly dread it, or don't want to do it, Remember: The enemy hates any sort of unity between Christians that may strengthen the Kingdom. He will use everything in his power to discourage you from meeting with whomever God is sending your way. My advice today is that if it comes out of the blue, walk in it.

In With the Sin Crowd...

2007-09-24T15:04:00.000-04:00

I've been hanging on to this photo that I snapped back in June, searching for a way to use it in a blog post. What you see here is a photo of how we deal with nuisance birds (in this case pigeons), where I work. Here you see a metal trap full of birds that were lured into it by bait, which in this case was cracked corn.

The process for trapping birds goes like this: You spread corn on the inside of the trap, birds fly over, see the corn, walk into the little doors that close behind them, eat the corn, and then are to dumb to figure a way out of the trap. And, since pigeons are very social animals, the more of them you have in a trap the better. In fact, other pigeons flying by will see a bunch of their buddies, not knowing they are in a trap, and fly down to join in on the food and fellowship. The problem is, their search for fellowship ends with them being caught the same way.

I originally took this photo to simply prove that the pigeon abatement project I was heading up was progressing. But when I downloaded the photo, I realized something peculiar:

If you look at the far left side of the photo, there is one single bird outside of the cage. He's looking in at the others as if he wants to join them but he can't find the entrance. Even though his friends are held captive and he has all the freedom in the world, he wants what they've got and trys his best to become a prisoner himself.

Later on in the same day that I snapped this picture, I made another visit to the trap. Although it had been about six hours, the same little guy was still pacing back and forth around the cage, trying to find a way in. I stood there and watched him as he tried to figure out where the door was and I couldn't help but wonder why he didn't just fly off and be free rather than enter captivity. And just then, he made it. He found the door and entered the trap where his friends were. I'm sure in his little pigeon mind he was elated to have finally joined up with those he had obviously envied enough to shed his freedom for life in a cage. But he did it! He got in to where there was food to eat, water to drink, shade, and like-minded pigeon friends to party with.

Can you draw a parallel between sin and pigeon traps. I know it may sound a little silly, but think about it: Sin tempts us, lures us in, promises the moon and stars, but always ends in destruction. Think about sins, secret sins such as adultery, pornography, gambling, etc... No one can commit these sins for very long until they end up hurting themselves or someone they love. The Bible is crystal clear when it teaches us that the wages of sin is death. Just like this little pigeon, he's tempted, enticed, and things sure look greener on the other side. But what is he giving up? He's saying hello to bondage and goodbye to FREEDOM!

The sad ending to this story is that when this little bird gave up all of his freedom and entered the trap, he sealed his fate. The birds are lured in, fed well, and kept in good company. But once a week, the exterminator shows up and destroys them one by one.

The Spiritual Heritage of a Tattered Bible...

2007-09-21T08:18:00.000-04:00

I WRITE NOTES IN MY BIBLE!!!

Most everybody I know writes in their Bibles. But, there are a select few that do not. Some feel that it is disrespectful to write in God's Word, and I completely understand and actually admire this level of reverence. But there are a few that take the verse in Revelation that says not to "Add or Detract", to mean they cannot write on the pages. I don't understand this line of thinking though. But however you feel about it, I want to tell you about what my friend Hal shared with me.

Hal told about how he had carried his particular Bible for 30 or so years. In that time, he never wrote in it's pages or marked up the scripture as in the picture to the left. When Hal became a Grandfather a few years ago, all that changed. He started thinking ahead to how one day, one of his grand kids would inherit his Bible. And, they will eventually hand it down to future generations, should the Lord tarry. Hal was concerned that his future generations would look at his pristine Bible and wonder if he ever even used it. So, he began taking notes, jotting down thoughts, and using the margins of it's pages to record what God taught him.

I never thought about how our personal Bible can be such a big part of our spiritual heritage that we pass on to our posterity. Although it is simply the Holy textbook that we used during our short time on earth, it is also a concrete symbol of our love of and devotion to God. But even more important than a book with messing handwriting and highlight stains, what we do with that love of God as we walk with Him is priceless. This is because the spiritual decisions we make during our short time on earth, will have an eternal affect every generation of our blood line. So, what heritage are you handing down?

Aim Small Miss Small...

2007-09-20T08:07:00.002-04:00

"So all I have to do is hit the target?"

"Well... Yes... but there is more to it than that."

"What else is then?"

"You have to hit an exact place on the target."

"Where?"

"Just aim at a small spot, even smaller than the tip of the arrow, and do everything you can to land it there."

"But why such a small spot? I can hit that bulls eye from way back there."

"Bulls eye is too big. Think smaller. Aim small, miss small."

I had the pleasure of shooting a custom made longbow last night. I shot one years ago, so I kinda remembered the proper way to do it without hurting myself. But, when I say years ago,I'm talking 15+.

Our target was a white 3'x3' foam box with a bulls eye in the center and was placed about 30' away. I thought it looked like fun so I volunteered to go first, since none of the other 8 had stepped up. I took the bow, inserted the arrow, pulled back the string and let it fly. Of course, I missed the whole darn thing with the first shot. But I redeemed myself in my second attempt and hit the foam box with a resounding thud.

The difference between each shot was that in the first attempt, I just pointed the arrow at the white foam box and let it fly. But in the second shot, I aimed at a small white speck on the center or the red circle inside the middle black line, on the bulls eye that is located on the foam box. My aim had become more precise and limited to a smaller spot, and the results were much better.

I've been reading alot about golf lately. Not the hokey stuff and techniques that are guaranteed to take strokes off your game, but the real fundamental stuff that most folks miss when they tee it up. The most helpful thing to my game is visualizing the shot before you take it. I like to stand behind my ball and picture in my mind the ball flying through the air, landing on an exact spot and coming to rest at a precise location. By doing this, it gives me a plan of attack that is much more focused than simply aiming at the flag and swinging. Do I hit them all like I picture them? Not hardly. In fact, in a recent interview, Tiger Woods said that he will only hit 3 or 4 exactly like he pictured. So, it's OK to miss a little as long as your focus is true, your alignment is correct, and you see the bigger picture of what you want to do.

My Pastor shared with us how we need to use this same type of visualization when we take aim on our marriages, families, and especially when it comes being the Priest of our homes. We need to hone in on the small things that will strengthen our relationships and draw us closer to God. By aiming at and improving the small details, the larger things and future problems we're going to face will more easily fall into place, because of the foundation we've built.

Looking back, I should have used my golf technique for visualization when I took my first pull on the longbow. Luckily, I remembered to do just that prior to my second shot. I didn't hit the small white speck that I had envisioned, but I only missed small.

Home Alone and Listening...

2007-09-19T14:04:00.000-04:00

Tonight.... I... Will.... Be.... Home... Alone! AHHHHHH!!!!

My wife and son have gone out of town to a conference and left me at home all by myself. Most men would probably jump for joy at this type of time off from the family. Some may even plan on doing nothing more than becoming a slug that moves from in front of the sweet, life-giving TV set long enough to pay he pizza guy. It's funny, but that doesn't even sound the least bit enticing to me.

Instead of resting and relaxing when my family is gone, I normally end up doing more work than normal. When they are away, I've found that time passes much quicker if I keep myself occupied and active. Over the next couple of days, in addition to my "Real Job", I plan to golf, catch up on laundry, work on a couple of home improvements, and do whatever else that I'm not thinking of right now that needs my attention. By my own estimates, come Friday evening when they come rolling in, I'll be exhausted but happy to see them, and hold them again.

Along with my selfish little projects, I'm looking forward to spending time alone with God. When the house is quiet and I'm alone I plan to pray, but even more, I plan to listen. I have this feeling that God wants me to hear something, but I don't know what it is yet. I would appreciate your prayers for safe travel and my covering during this time. Word of God speak...

Dark Football

2007-09-18T08:40:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was my lovely wife's birthday! Will and I took her out to eat and then over to her mom's for ice cream and cake. We were the first members of the family to arrive, so to occupy our time, Will and I went outside to play baseball. Well, it was actually a leather ball and an over sized plastic bat. I pitched, he hit, he pitched, I hit, and we worked up a sweat running the imaginary base paths. We played for probably an hour before the rest of the family arrived and we could get on with the birthday festivities. The ice cream flowed, the cake was cut, and the presents were opened. After all of this, there was one problem: Night had fallen on us and Will still wanted to play. I told him that it was too dark to play and he told me,

"No problem Dad, lets go out and play dark football."

"What is dark football?" I asked.

"You take the football, throw it and try to catch it in the dark. It's lot's of fun," He said in his four year old wisdom.

"How many times have you played dark football?" I had to ask.

"I haven't," He said, "I just invented it."

With that, we went outside and spent the bigger part of an hour throwing a football at each other in the dark. It may sound silly, but it was really fun because of the challenge it presented. The moonlight made it so that you could faintly see the other person, and you could even see them throw it, but it was too dark to properly judge the path and flight of the ball. You knew it was coming at you because you could catch a fleeting glimpse of it, but it was really hard to tell when it would hit you. Most of the time, the ball would hit you in the face, belly, or other more sensitive areas, before you could react (Thank goodness it was a Nerf Ball). With every throw, laughter ensued. Especially if the ball landed on your nose. This silly game of dark football turned out to be one of the more enjoyable games Will and I have played.

So, dark football and life have alot in common don't they? You can faintly see things coming at you. And, you can make your best guess at how they will turn out. But in the end, you catch some and the rest hit you in the nose. But in life, there aren't many Nerf balls. Sure, sometimes life is good but we usually take those times for granted. That is, until real-life slaps us in the face and we forget the high times and our focus is centered on the deep valley.

So, hows your game of night football? Maybe I should ask how your game of life is going? Before you answer it, I've got to tell how our game of night football ended:

As we stood there in the moonlight throwing a football and getting hit over and over, my wife's Aunt came out of the house. It was time for her to go home, so she made her way to her car that as parked near where we were playing. We said bye to her and she started the engine. When her headlights came on, we could see! Now we had a real night game under the lights. Our game in the dark was now transformed. We could now see the ball coming and catch it before it hit us. She actually sat there for about five minutes because she noticed how excited Will had become by playing under the lights. But soon enough she had to leave, and we went back to playing in the dark, getting hit in the nose, tripping over things, and laughing at each others foolishness...

"Then Jesus told them, "You are going to have the light just a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, before darkness overtakes you. The man who walks in the dark does not know where he is going. Put your trust in the light while you have it, so that you may become sons of light." (John 12:35-36)

Judas' Embrace...

2007-09-17T14:00:00.000-04:00

The hearing began with an opening statement from the leadership that told why this meeting had been requested. Internal squabbles, gossip, and anger had been building for some time, and had finally come to a head on this cool evening. Most in attendance were angry and felt as though they had been betrayed by their leaders. Some were there simply because they were confused over the recent rumblings they had been hearing through the grapevine. The rest must have been there to show support for their leaders that now stood in judgement of men.

Grievances were aired that involved procedural technicalities that some saw as hindrances to them. A time of discussion took place, in which each side told their personal reason why they felt strongly about what was bugging them. And why they wanted change to come. Some even claimed that they, themself had advised against certain things but no one wanted to listen to them.

As the discussion wore on, whispers were heard and the level of angst in the room began to grow. Angst cascaded into personal attacks hurled at the leaders like fiery darts. This condemnation was comprised of many things, but the most common was: "I have no respect for you!" The anger of the aggrieved was so evident, so real, and so vile that the presence of evil was felt by the discerning few in attendance. Blow after blow was received, blood was spilled, and wounds, deep wounds, were created...

But after all of this agony was received, the person that it landed on humbly handed out apologies. A flaming arrow would strike but blessing would be returned. But were these apologies necessary? Should they have ever been issued? God's word tells us that we should ask forgiveness from others that we may have wronged, so that we may be forgiven, just as God forgives us. But what if these same folks are speaking nothing but condemnation? Forgive them anyway... gulp... so that your consciouses may be clear and you can stand blameless before the Lord. And do not repay evil with evil.

As the meeting was hastening toward a close, the leader of the aggrieved asked to speak. He was a large man, and when he took the floor, all eyes were on him. Most were unsure what he would say and some feared what he might physically do. As he stepped up, he placed his arm around the beaten down man's neck in a half-embrace. As his words began to flow through the air, everyone began to wonder how he would treat the man he had a hold of. His words were soft at first, but then began building to a passionate tone. He spoke of how he did not "Hate" the man he was holding, but how he had actually kissed him when he had last seen him. He then addressed the crowd by saying that he nor his group had done anything wrong. His list went on how he had done great things, and how they had prayed with others, and how they had helped people, and how they had worked hard to do God's work, and how they had tithed, and how they...they...they.

I'll stop right there for now. ..

What you have been reading is my own modern day take on how Satan can manipulate people to do his bidding. The setting here is a meeting in a Church and the people are the congregation and their Pastoral leadership. Obviously, this exchange has grown out of these folks personal and therefore fleshly desire for change. They have an idea of how they want things done in their own mind and they are unhappy with the status quo. So, they meet with the leadership. However, they've failed to realize that there is someone else in attendance that wants to change some things in the Church as well. His name is Satan and all he wants is division, condemnation, and to reclaim the ground he lost to Christ.

So, he whispers in ears and helps thoughts become vocalized into flaming arrows and darts that are aimed at the heart of their intended victim. And what better person to harm than a person called by God to lead His people? The words, "I Don't Respect You!" cut to the bare bone of any leader and cause wounds that may never heal and will leave horrible scars. Satan also thrives on "Self First" as best witnessed in the argument by the group leader how "HE" and "THEY" had done great things. And Satan loves a spirit of diminishment to enter the picture so that all will become discouraged.

I guess what I'm really wanting you, the reader, to take from this is that Satan is real. And, even if you are a Christian, he will try to use you however he can. He knows that a Christian person can cause much more harm than a non-Christian, and he is gunning for you. AND, he can go right inside of your Church too! So, armor up and be strong against him. Encourage your leadership for they are under constant bombardment. The enemy prowls like a roaring lion and he ONLY comes to steal, kill, and destroy.

Believing an Author Over THE AUTHOR...

2007-09-14T08:40:00.000-04:00

Since I was published last year, I've enjoyed hearing from my readers. Especially, those that have a problem with something I've written and have it felt necessary to point out where I am wrong and only they are right. 99% of the these disagreements have been over topics of doctrinal differences. But that's OK, because the arguments I've received are what I like to call "Church Stuff" and have nothing to do with the fact that Jesus was the son of God, died for our sins, arose, ascended, and will come back one day so it's up to us to tell everyone about Him. This is much more important than deciding between who's the most right: Wesley or Calvin.

When I wrote 'A Warrior Culture', I went to great lengths to craft it's message in such a way that it would be accepted across denominational lines. And by His grace and for the most part, it has. In fact, I've heard from Baptists, Methodists, Church of God, Pentecostal Holiness, and even Catholics that have enjoyed the book and have applied it to their lives. This is what has made the work I put into that project "WORTH IT"!

But today, I'm concerned about problems that could arise within Churches if a group of people buy into a particular author's works, writings, and interpretation of God and forsake the doctrinal teachings of the Church they are attending. Case in point:

I've read almost every book that John Eldredge has ever written. I love his style and I think he is one of the greatest spiritual motivators of men that is alive today. His ministry has helped thousands of men to realize they are in a battle, are called to be heroes, and their heart is essential to their survival. Some of his stuff is a little too hokey and poetic for me, but overall, I agree with about 80% of everything he teaches.

For this exercise, I'll use the fact that he condones drinking alcohol and teaches that there is nothing wrong with it as long as you do not become a drunk. Granted, this same type verse can be found in the new testament and can be easily defended/argued by both sides. However, many Churches have the abstinence of alcohol spelled out in their doctrine.

Lets say this group of men decide that it's time to go out and tell the rest of the Congregation that it's now OK to drink alcohol and the Church needs to get with the times and loosen up on the Doctrine. Remember, the doctrine of this Church clearly says, "No consumption of alcoholic beverage", but they go against the Church and refute it simply because of Eldredge's (an author) argument. In essence, this group thumbs their noses at the doctrine they have learned under for however long they've been in the Church.

Doctrines were created by men so that we can have order, structure, and a way to interpret the Gospel. Many doctrines sprang from a disagreement that escalated into a Church split, and then into the formation of a new denomination. Did you ever wonder why there are so many different Baptist Churches? If you said, "Doctrinal differences" then you are correct! But, trust me when I say that doctrine is essential, if we are going to conduct Church. Doctrine is more than just a bunch of rules and laws telling you what you can and can't believe. Doctrine gives the Church body boundaries and a common flag to rally around.

Getting back to my case, let's say that some member of this group are in Church leadership, and some are new to the faith. If some are covenant leaders, are they not violating covenants they made with God? And what of those new to the faith that witness this rift? It's scary to think about conflicts that occur and the train wreck that's left to clean up after new teaching and doctrine collide.

So what? If anything, I'm just trying to get the point across that not everything you read is going to line up with what your Church is built around. We have to discern what we read and allow the Spirit to speak to us. Or, to make it easy... when you come across something that throws up a flag about your Church's doctrine, get out the book and look it up. That book is the Bible and it is THE DOCTRINE.

Men's Vogue???

2007-09-12T14:15:00.000-04:00

Today's "Daddy-Duty" involved taking Will to the dentist. I really don't like to take him... but I had to. I usually try to avoid taking him because he has an extreme fear of the "Sharp things they touch your teeth with". I can relate to him because I wouldn't want to lay on a table and let someone twice my size scratch around on my teeth either. But anyway, I took him, he cried... loudly at times, and then we went to the mall and bought a toy for his bravery.

In between the screams and crys that were pouring out of the exam room, I attempted to occupy my time by perusing the magazine selection in the lobby. I first grabbed the local society mag and scanned it, looking for people I know. After I set it back on the table, I noticed that the office staff had suddenly turned the Muzak up, obviously to drown out my child's screams. Or, maybe they were doing it for their own sake? I digress...

As I looked through the selection of magazines, I saw "Coastal Living", "Readers Digest", "Men's Vogue", and "Southern Living". Wait a minute... Men's Vogue? I'd heard of, and seen "Vogue" before, but had no idea that there was a male counterpart publication. I couldn't resist so with a chuckle and a grin, I picked it up and scanned through the pages.

The first thing I noticed was the fact that at least 70% of the magazine was devoted to advertisements for clothes, jewelery, and cologne. But, not the typical clothes/jewelry/cologne that I consider MANLY. There was nothing with the brand names Under Armor, LL Bean, Adidas, or even Brut by Faberge. All of the clothing was in the form of suits, or over stylish stuff by designers with odd names, worn by feminine looking male models. Most of the things I saw would probably get me beat up if I were to wear it in certain parts of my town. But, I really don't have anything to worry about because I probably can't afford, nor would I have any reason or event to purchase these clothes.

The remaining 30% of the magazine was comprised of articles. There was one piece about a particular presidential candidate, one on styles for the fall, and one about some writer I've never heard of. The most shocking thing to me was the fact that the only sports I found was a half page piece about the Red Sox. Granted, I'm a Yankees fan so anything Red Sox is avoided. But, I actually read the article about them because there was nothing else of substance that I could find in the mag to sink my teeth into.

After I had returned the magazine to the table, I couldn't help but wonder:

Who thought up the concept for this publication?

My humorous side was now stirred up, and I immediately pictured a bunch of overweight guys, bellied up to a bar somewhere, talking about how they wished they had way to find out the most recent runway fashions for men. And then I pictured a whole bunch guys discussing the finest dress socks in the dugout between innings of their softball game. Then I thought about how many men I personally know that would subscribe to a fashion magazine (I'm still at zero as I write this).

Anyway, I have to believe that there are only two groups of people that care enough about men's fashion to devote themselves to a project such as men's vogue: Women and homosexual males. Obviously, women and fashion magazines go hand in hand. But do hetero men really care? Sure, we want to look nice and maybe even appear somewhat fashionable. But a magazine about it? Today I'm at a loss and I can't see how a magazine like "Men's Vogue" can find enough male subscribers to keep the business afloat. But then again, maybe they rely on Doctor and Dentist Offices and the homosexual population to pay the bills. As for me, give me a Golf Digest for reading, and a new polo shirt every now and then and my fashion till is full.

Declining the 'Dad of the Year' Award...

2007-09-11T07:58:00.000-04:00

I donny prater hereby decline any possibility of being nominated for 'Dad of the Year 2007.'

Throughout the annals of childhood fears, there is none much scarier than this little red-headed fellow to the right named CHUCKY. In the 'Childs Play' movies, he is a demon possessed Good Guy doll that comes to life and kills a whole bunch of people. I guess what makes him so scary is the fact that he is a little boy's favorite doll. But what is a doll to a child? My little boy has a nappy, dirty white rabbit he won in a 50 cent crane game at Shoney's two years ago that he considers highly exalted among his multitude of stuffed animals. I guess its because whenever he is sad, tired, hurt, or afraid, he can always count on Rabbit to be there for him. NOW, imagine Rabbit came to life through some Chucky type demon possession, and started killing everyone. Just the thought of that is enough to warp the psyche of my son and lay the groundwork for many years of future counseling.

A couple of weeks ago, Will and I were in the TV room and I was switching channels, trying to find something to put on as background noise while we played little green army men. I turned the channel and it landed on the F/X Network, and guess what was on... 'Bride of Chucky'. But more specifically, it was at the wedding scene and there was a close-up of Chucky's bride and her blood stained face. Worst of all, Will was standing there, mouth agape, looking at the screen. It was about five seconds until he ran through the house yelling, "Mommy! Daddy's scaring me and making me watch a movie about these dolls with blood on their faces". I quickly changed the channel, but the damage was already done.

Just then I heard, "Donny! Stop scaring him!".

I had some explaining to do... So, I slowly walked to the bedroom and told how it was an accident. Then I had to explain to Will how it was just a movie about a mean little doll named Chucky and that we will never watch it again. Will was OK with that so we went on to play little green army men, with Playhouse Disney as our backdrop.

BUT... Here's where I lose Dad of the Year- Later that evening, Will and I were playing hide n' go seek in the house. When it was my turn to hide, I ducked into a closet in the guest bedroom and waited on him to show up at the door. When I heard him enter the bedroom, I disguised my voice in the most sinister way possible and said:

"He, he, he... I'm Chucky!"

Obviously, this scared the snot out of my little boy, and he ran through the house crying and telling Marci what I had done. I got in trouble as usual and had some damage control to do with him... and her... because both were a bit angry with me. But why did I do this? I knew it would scare him, but I did it anyway. I also knew that it would upset my wife, but I did it in spite.

Today, I am pondering/praying Colossians 3:21

"Fathers, do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged"

I Give, I Quit, I Surrender...

2007-09-10T13:02:00.000-04:00

I hate to lose.... It's contrary to my personality and it really ticks me off. But, I also hate to win by an overwhelming margin. Weird huh? Anyway, I recently threw up my hands in surrender, submission, failure, or any other word you may be able to come up with that means "I give up". And, to beat it all, the root cause of my failure is the enemy! I fought him, but in the end, it was not worth prolonging the battle and possibly losing the entire war.

Here's the scoop: Back in April, I decided to start an online Christian golf community. I've always been a big fan of the online message boards where people can post a thought, question, or any other thing they desire and receive feedback from folks all over the world. So, I researched the web and found that there really was only one place where Christian golfers could do this, and it was buried deep in a very popular Christian forum website. So, I designed my site to be better and easier to use. The problem was, it was too easy to use.

After the first month, there were about ten or so guys on the message boards, chatting and sharing ideas. Some had really deep theological questions, while many others had bits of random silliness that we guys are best known for. I monitored the forums closely to make sure someone didn't post something that didn't have a place. I even made a new friend in Australia that helped me out with this.

By the end of June, he and I were starting to notice a lot of advertisements were being placed on the forum for pornography and drugs. By July, the problem had swelled to the rate of about ten per day. This was when I took control of all sign ups for the forums and made it so that everyone must be personally approved by me. I did this by reviewing each request for an account and personnally clicked the "Approve" button if they seemed legit.

By the middle of August, I was receiving anywhere from 50-100 requests per day! AND, not one person that requested an account was an honest to goodness person that wanted to share their faith and their handicap! This is when I decided that it was not worth it and I decided to pull the plug on the FORE God!!! website.

I would love to sit here and tell you that the main reason I had to pull the plug was because of a lack of time on my part to sift through each and every profile that was emailed to me. I would also like to sit here and blame it on money, because it does cost money to run a website. But neither of those are the real reason I had to pull the plug. The real reason that I killed the site was because of the temptation to look at the pornographic images that I faced day in, day out.

Everyday, I would receive my list of emails from new people requesting accounts on the website. I took each one of them as a good-faith effort to join a Christian community, and I would review their profile to see what they were all about. Most of the time, you could spot the bad ones because they would have links to various websites in their profile that their names alone, told me that they were either pornographic or drug related.

But it was the other ones that were the most dangerous. Many of the profiles seemed pretty much legit and I would go ahead and open the links they provided only to be slapped in the face with perverse images. At first, I would quickly close them and delete the profile. But the more of them I received, the more numb I became to what I was seeing. I'm not saying that I dwelled on these sites or anything like that, nor did I bookmark them for later viewing. The fact of the matter is, the numbness to these bits of sexual perversion was kiling me. It's a fact of human nature that the more numb you become to something, the more accepting you are to it. This is obvious by the way that America has seemed to accept the sin of abortion and homosexuality as just the way life is.... But the biggest problem I have is that whenever a pornographic image flashes in front of most men's eyes, it's somewhat permanently embedded into your mind. Even though you know it's wrong to look at and think about, it's there, somewhere, and trust me when I say, the enemy knows where it is and will use it the next chance he gets.

Although I gave up on my golf ministry, I have achieved a victory in my life through surrender. Who knows what would have happened had I kept "Checking Out" the profiles. Pornography is a slippery slope and it only leads to destruction.

Look! Up in the Sky!!!

2007-09-08T21:03:00.000-04:00

Today's soccer match was disrupted by a UFO. Yes, I said U-F-O. It was such an overwhelming distraction that my entire team stopped playing, froze where they were, and one by one pointed and told me of the anomaly they saw.

"Coach Donny! LOOK!!!" one by one they all shouted and pointed.

I quickly looked behind me, and there in the sky it was! But what was it? Was it a bird? A Plane? Superman??? No... it was a single, red balloon. But this balloon was special. There must have been some kind of existential/supernatural attraction that drew the attention of my entire team, off the game and onto a single floating piece of rubber in the sky.

The problem with this "Siting", was the fact that while this episode was taking place, the opposing side dribble past my squad and was on their way to the goal. I quickly snapped to my team, "Great guys! Its a balloon! But this is a soccer match and you need to get going!" After this, they slowly took their eyes off the floating balloon and went back to playing soccer.

As the match went on, I was actually a little aggravated by the entire episode. I even thought to myself, "I can't believe that they are more concerned with some stupid balloon than the match they are playing in." That's when the Holy Spirit checked me by telling me that I had lost site of what this team/league/sport is all about:

It's just a game and these are 3 and 4 year olds!

After that swift kick in the behind, I went back to coaching with a different approach that involves fun and not winning. Like most other red-blooded American males, I have a strong drive to win. So much so that sometimes I forget about the little things like making sure everyone plays an equal amount of time, gets treated the same, and most of all that everyone has fun. I try to keep these in check, but at the time this balloon went flying by, I was extremely wrapped up in the match, and was wanting nothing more than my team to score a goal (even though this league does not keep score).

So, today I'm thankful that someone released a red balloon into the sky at just the right time. Maybe someone accidentally let go of the string, or maybe it was done on purpose. Actually, I know it was done on purpose through Him and was meant for me. Thanks Daddy...

If Time and Money Were No Object...

2007-09-07T12:21:00.000-04:00

At Promise Keepers in 2004, I sat through an interesting session about doing what God wrote on your heart. I can't remember the guys name, but it really doesn't matter because I remember what he told us. He had everyone take out a sheet of paper and write the words, "If time and money were no object, what would you be doing." In other words, he gave us a blank check to search our hearts for what we wanted to do with our lives. Best of all, the sky's the limit.

I remember that time so vividly that I can even describe what shirt I was wearing, where I was sitting, and who was with me. I remember with precise detail, the three words only three words), that I jotted down. Whats funny about this is that I should have been able to write a novel about the many different careers I'd love to have. You see, at that time, I was recently laid off from my job, had lost my home, and my wife and I were raising a 6 month old boy. As you can see, it was a pretty difficult time for me and my family, and all I wanted was a job that would allow me to get us back on our feet. But, what I wrote down will surprise you. I simply wrote down:

Baseball Bat Maker

"A What?" you may ask. Let me explain all of this.... At that precise moment in time, I wanted nothing more than to own a business where I personally turned wooden blanks on a lathe, into finely crafted pieces of home run hitting power. I had been turning bats in my basement (when I had one) for about a year and I just knew that my bats were destined for the playing fields and ballparks of America. Heck, if Sam Holman of the company Sambat could build a bat making empire, then why couldn't I? I had a logo, all the equipment, the skill to make bats, and tons of desire. The only problem was, I didn't have the money support my family, and all the other things that come along with that. So, as with most dreams, I finally got a job, quit making bats for lack of time, and moved on to the next hobby.

One year later, same question asked by another guy at Promise Keepers, this time in Nashville. By this time, my child was almost two, had a great job, a home, and a Golden Retriever. Financially better off and ever growing in God's word. My answer to the question this time:

Wooden Boat Builder

"HUH???" You may say... This time, I had become obsessed with sail boats. I had always wanted one and decided that I was going to build one from scratch. I read every book, bought plans, and experimented with the different techniques. The problem was that I did not have the time, nor the space to build what I wanted (a 20' Sloop). So, I soon scrapped that idea and moved on.

The next year (2006) in Louisville, same question, new answer:

Writer

At this point in time, I had just been published and knew that writing is one thing that God wrote on my heart. I love to write, but it is another such activity that doesn't quite "pay the bills" so to speak. But, who knows what God has in store. I hope to write more books, but recently, work has taken the bulk of my time (as usual), and my blog is all that is keeping my creative writing juices flowing.

I missed PK this year, so I didn't get to do this little exercise. I wonder what I would have written this time? With my rekindled obsession with golf, I wonder... Oh well, I'll stick to writing, and still dream of playing baseball on my sailboat...

Choosing Sides...

2007-09-04T08:36:00.000-04:00

I was a big man on the playground back in Elementary School. My game was kickball, and I was an ace at kicking the long ball and scoring lots of runs for the team. It was because of my "long foot" that I was always picked quickly when we chose sides for a game. But that was in kickball, if it were any other sport, I would be among that last few chosen. But it was OK, because I knew I was destined for greatness if the PKA (Professional Kickball Assoc.) were ever developed.

When I think back to those days of choosing sides for a child's game on the playground, I am reminded how similar divisions between adults can be. For instance, when an event such as a divorce occurs, everyone lines up and joins either "Her" team or "His" team. Instead of him and her choosing sides, the teams are drawn simply out of loyalty. Sometimes, coercion plays a part, but most of the time, it is simply out of friendship.

The game begins when the first pitch is hurled in the form of the story. The story is simply what each person views as their reason for their rift with the other person. The big problem with the story is that there really is two sides to every story. That said, it's impossible to see the big picture without knowing EVERY intricate detail of both side's story. This is the conundrum that makes it impossible for both sides to agree with each other. So, the game/battle begins and is hurled into a state of perpetual motion that is hard, if not impossible to slow down.

Along the way, feelings are hurt, insults are hurled, and assumptions are made that cause the rift to widen and deepen. But this rift has become something much more than a personal, him to her problem: It turns into a "His Group" versus "Her Group" war. When this happens, the battle lines are drawn and there is no unity, only division.

I've seen this scenario played out time and time again in everything from divorces to political debates, and last but not least in Church squabbles. When we become so engrossed in a split that we chose sides and shun the other group, we have played into the enemy's hand and done his bidding. I'm sure Satan licks his chops and jumps for joy when those claiming to be children of the King turn a disagreement into bitterness and allow it to take hold of them and grow into their hearts. Is it out of pride that we cling to a root? Sadly, the answer is "Yes". But to make matters worse, when we allow pride to control how we relate with another person, we are allowing Satan to control us because "Pride" is his number one device and is not of God.

So, if you find yourself choosing sides in a petty little squabble among brothers, take it to the Lord first before you jump in and enlist in one side's army. Pray it through, discern the spirits, and most of all communicate not only with God but with those that are spewing forth the rhetoric you're hearing. Pray in the Spirit and remember that all of us are in a war with the real enemy Satan. When we join battles against each other, he wins...

Go Harry, It's Your Birthday, Go Harry...

2007-08-28T12:41:00.000-04:00

Every morning, my wife wakes me up just before she leaves so that I don't oversleep. But I can't help but think she likes to wake me up because I get to sleep longer than her because she has to be on the job an hour before me. So about 6:30 every morning, I hear the sweet words, "I'm leaving." It is at this moment that I am roused to my feet by the loving, and deeply romantic, "Can you hold the dog?" When the fragrance of these words from my lover maranade my ears, I get up, give her a kiss goodbye, then I feed and restrain our 75 pound Retriever so that he doesn't knock her over, out of love of course...

After she leaves, I head back to the bedroom and turn on the TV. It's at this point in time when Will normally wakes up and we watch a show together. But not just any show... we watch a new kids show called Hip-Hop Harry. At first, I was intrigued by the name of the show. The words 'Hip' and 'Hop' conjure up tons of images in my mind. Everything from fashion shows to rabbits spring around inside of my head, but these are both wrong. This Hip-Hop is referring to the urban music/dance/culture that has sprung up around dancing and rap music in the past 20 years or so. For me, every time I hear "Hip-Hop" I immediately think of MC Hammer rapping "You can't touch this", shaking and gyrating his body, and all the while shuffling his feet side to side like a crab, before jumping up and down, spinning, stomping... well you get the point.

Anyway, Hip-Hop Harry is a fairly new show and it's actually pretty good. It teaches kids things like how to deal with each other's personalities, sharing, and also how to get along. My favorite part is when they sing a song called I love to learn and then have a little show and tell session with an "Expert" in some particular field. For example, one day they had a woman on the show from a zoo that taught the kids about birds. It was actually interesting and even I learned something! But then again, I know I'm not smarter than a 5th grader so big shock!

So, if you come across Hip-Hop Harry, watch it and don't be afraid to let your kids watch it. I warn you though: At one point they sing the "Do the Harry" song where all the kids get to show off their different dance moves. My little boy likes to dance along, but his favorite part is when they are singing the song and Harry says, "SOMEBODY SCREAM!!!" At that moment, my little boy lets out a blood-curdling scream that I'm sure could wake the dead. It used to scare me when I would hear it because I would normally be in the shower and come running through the house soaking wet, soap dripping to the floor, just to make sure he wasn't hurt. Other than that, I give Hip-Hop Harry a big thumbs up.

He Sucks the Life Out of Me...

2007-08-23T08:57:00.000-04:00

I need your prayers... I REALLY need them with regards to a certain someone that I deal with on the job. Actually, I need to be in praying about this more and more because I am slowly being transformed into the guy at the right every time I lay eyes on this person. I've got a real problem and I'm afraid it's putting distance between myself and God.

About two years ago, I had a run in with this individual over something that had happened where we work. He came to me and asked where I stood with regard to a choice he had made regarding our place of work and benefits he felt were owed to him. What strained our relationship was the fact that when I am asked for my opinion, I give it. I don't hold back because my opinion is simply that: Mine. So I went on to tell this person that I didn't appreciate the fact that he had brought suit against the company that employs him, feeds his family, and pays him really well. I also told him that his entitlement attitude sucks and is a perfect snapshot of whats wrong with our part of the country. Obviously, he didn't want to hear this so since that day, our run-ins are a bit strained. But was I wrong? Was giving an opinion bad in this case?

I talked with someone I admire about this, and was shocked to hear that he feels the same way about this person. In fact, my friend told me, "Every time I see (that person) coming my way, I can feel the life being sucked out of me." I went on to tell him of our exchange and asked if he'd had a similar one. He told me no and went on to say that it's just because the guy is always on a soapbox about something, and 99% of the time, he's wrong about his facts, but he keeps going because he doesn't know any better or is not smart enough to realize it.

When I step back and look at this through human eyes, I'm kind of relieved that I am not the only person who has a hard time with this person. In fact, its comforting to know that someone I admire feels the same way, and with totally unrelated circumstances. That gives me some hope...

But when I look through spiritual eyes, I see that I have a serious heart problem that I must deal with and ask God to heal me. It's pretty obvious that even though this man is just one of those people that are hard to deal with, Jesus said to love them anyway. So my question is, "How do you love someone that sucks the life out of you?" Or even better, "What have I done wrong? All I did was give him my opinion." Those questions are where I need to start.
Obviously, those two questions are the usual line of defense/bull that most of us use to justify strained relationships with others. When we say things like, "I didn't do anything..." most likely, deep down in our heart, the Holy Spirit is probably prompting us to realize that yes we did. We may not have done something physically, but there is obviously something in the recesses of our minds that cleaves to the part of our selfish nature known as "The Grudge" that needs to be crucified. A grudge is a GINORMOUS toehold of the enemy that will breed bitterness in our hearts. Given the room to grow, grudges will grow in our hearts, smother out the good things of God, and distance us from His Holy communion.

That said, I've got some work to do. Actually, I've got some gardening to get busy on. Lots of digging, cutting, and replanting of new life...

Gun Tube Humor...

2007-08-16T14:14:00.000-04:00

"I tank, therefore I am"...

When I was in the Army, I was a crewman on an M1 Abrams Main Battle Tank. I got to drive, load, shoot, and command 60 tons of metal that is designed for one thing: destroying the enemy or anything else that gets in it's way.

I was looking through my pictures I snapped at Ft. Knox and came across this one from the Patton Museum. What you are looking at in this picture is the side view of an M1A1 Abrams' 120 millimeter gun tube and the words that some tanker lovingly stenciled onto it.

It is a military tradition to name your tank and stencil it onto the gun tube. However, many times this turns into some catchy slogan such as the one to the left, that proudly adorns this gun tube for all to see. In my time in the service I saw a little bit of everything painted on the tanks. My tank had "Iron Warrior" painted on it's gun tube (kinda generic). While others had things such as "Ragamuffin", "Deuces Wild", "Big Daddy", "Death Dealer", and a bunch of other names. Sadly, most of the names are much too obscene to write here.

In this particular instance, I find it extremely creative to use "Answer to This". Think about it this way: You are on a battle field, you look up, and there in front of you is this beast with it's main gun leveled at you, locked, cocked, and ready to rock 'n roll your world. What would you do? Running wouldn't work unless you can run faster than 55 mph. Hiding is out of the question because the Abrams has thermal sights that can see your body heat signature. Really, your only option would be to surrender, but the tankers I know would have already lit you up before you could have managed to think these options through. To put it lightly, you're screwed.

How many times do we feel this way in life? How many times do we get through one problem only to come face to face with an even bigger, more ominous one? The good news is that God is bigger than any problem you may have. And just like Paul wrote, His grace is sufficient for ANYTHING.

Although the Abrams is impressive, tough, and a beast of a battle machine, it is vulnerable and can be defeated. The tank is little match for fast moving aircraft that can fire missiles, bombs, and guns that will destroy it. So remember, next time you are faced with an M1 Abrams-Sized problem, don't think about your options to avoid the problem, just call for help. God is there and ready to send you all the close air support you may need by way of His grace. Always keep in mind that He hasn't brought you this far to leave you.

Excuse Me While I Whip This Out...

2007-08-13T12:40:00.000-04:00

Today is Monday. More specifically, it's my lunch hour and I'm writing in my blog. Today, I'm a little sore, a tad tired, but happy to be plugging away at the daily grind. Now that I've written how I/Me/Myself feels, I've realized that it's time to focus and find what direction God is prompting me to go. I actually have no idea what the next few lines will be about but I realized a few minutes ago that I only have a short amount of time to whip out a blog post to satisfy my personal goal of writing every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Maybe I should write about goals and schedules? What about not having enough time to do what I want to do? What about the latest book I'm reading? No, no, no.... I'm going to just write what He gives me. So, excuse me while I whip this out.

I played golf Saturday and Sunday, thus the soreness. But, it's a good kind of sore because I can truly say that I am obsessed with the game. So much so that if I were given the choice of playing a round or eating the finest steak dinner, I'd quickly tee up a Titleist and smack it down the fairway (and probably into the rough). But why this obsession? Is it the fact that I am a good golfer? Well I'm not. The reason I love golf is because that I am an average golfer with lots of room to improve. LOTS OF ROOM TO IMPROVE is what keeps me going to the range and hitting buckets of balls, putting in my living room each evening, and watching the golf channel late at night in hopes of finding the "Missing Link" in my swing. Golf is one game that you cannot reach a level where you have no room to improve. Even Tiger Woods takes lessons because he knows that to stay competitive and on top of his game, you have to be willing to learn.

How do we keep this same hunger to learn in our Christian lives? Or let me ask it this way: Given the choice between learning more about Jesus and how to share him, or eating the finest steak dinner, which would you choose? Sadly, I would probably be eating the steak, along with many, many other Christians that have been Christians long enough to think they know it all and there's not much else to learn. It seems like many of us grow stagnant in our faith, and tend to get stuck in a rut or what I like to call "Spiritually Dry". I've been there, and if you hang around long enough, you probably will too. A friend of mine told me that spiritual dryness is cyclical and unavoidable, but I don't agree. I have to believe that we grow complacent by human nature, but that the enemy is always there waiting for any opportunity to distract us and turn our eyes off God and onto other interests.

Today, I've got some really good news for anyone going through a dry spell:

YOU DO NOT KNOW EVERYTHING THERE IS TO KNOW ABOUT GOD

You may find yourself bored with the Sunday message. Or, you may be tired of going to Sunday school and find it somewhat painful to sit through. But whatever it is, here's the diagnosis for spiritual dryness, from personal experience of course: The most oft heard words from a "Dry Person" are 'I'm just not getting fed spiritually'. I'm sure you've heard this said. Heck, I've said these words myself. But since I realized that there is always something new to learn, it has turned into a struggle with my own self allowing ME to learn/listen. I guess pride keeps us from admitting we don't know everything, while our own flesh puts on a false self to make us appear that we do.

So, get over yourself! Get out your Bible but don't open it until you've prayed for God to reveal something new to you. Then open it up and read for depth not for distance. I know I need to do this myself and as a matter of fact, I'm going to reach over and get my brand new Golfer's Bible while I still have a few minutes. I'll close for now so excuse me while I whip out the word of God.

Drumroll Please......

2007-08-10T12:22:00.001-04:00

TAH DAH!!! It's official. Yesterday, Marci and I went to the Doctor and had it confirmed that yes, there is a baby "In the Oven". God's blessing us one more time with a child and I have to say that I am excited!

Yesterday, the Doctor told us the due date was March 5th but I asked him to schedule it for February 29th so that our child could be a leap-year baby. Is this weird? Will this mess up my kid? Do I only have to buy birthday presents once every four years? Oh well...

So, even though it's hard to tell what you are looking at, trust me, there is a baby with a head, arms, legs, and a little heartbeat being formed by His hand right now! How humbled, excited, and thankful I am...

I Cried. Then I Cried Some More...

2007-08-08T10:40:00.000-04:00

11:30 PM Monday night, as my wife and son were asleep next to me, I cried. Not loud but soft as tears ran down my face. In fact, I cried myself to sleep. The tears came after I read the last sentence and closed the cover of the book 'Caddy for Life : The Bruce Edwards Story'. You're probably asking why I was crying over a book about golf. Well it's pretty simple: Bruce Edwards was Tom Watson's (my childhood golf hero) Caddy and this book is the story of his life and how he died of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis otherwise known as ALS or Lou Gehrig's Disease.

Although I was a huge Tom Watson fan, I have to be honest that I never knew the name of his caddy, let alone know that he died. I was out of golf for the past few years and Bruce wasn't diagnosed until 2003 and died in 2004. During that period of time, I had become a father, lost my job, lost my home, and finally launched into a new career in early 2004. So as you can imagine, golf was the last thing I was concerned with. It was a real surprise when my boss told me about this book and how I needed to read it. After completing it, I am glad I did and although it's full of heartbreak, it's also an incredible story about two men with a 'David and Jonathon' type friendship. Pick it up and read it if you can, it's a good break from the constant stream of Christian books I had been reading.

Can we read too many Christian books? Personally, I think we all need a break from time to time to clean our reading glasses, clear our mind, and return with a new set of eyes. About two years ago, I realized that all I had been reading and writing was Christian in nature. I actually started to feel some burnout and that scared me. At the behest of my wife, she suggested I take a break and read something for fun that is outside of the "Christian Ghetto". What would I read for fun? I had already read all the Bill Bryson books, so I turned to my two life-long loves: Baseball and the New York Yankees. As fate would have it, the next morning, there was a special on the Today Show about a new book about the life and death of Lou Gehrig called 'The Luckiest Man'. I was excited about the interview with the author, so that night I picked up a copy and didn't set it down for a month as I read, re-read and took in every word. When I finished it, I realized that it was fun to read a non-Christian book and it also made me more, MUCH MORE, aware of the horrible disease ALS that is forever linked to the Yankee legend. I have even done my own research about treatments and charities that support finding a cure.

As of today, there is no cure for ALS and if you are diagnosed, you are told that no matter what you do, you have 1 to 5 years to live. But it's not that you will be fine and then just drop over dead in that time period. Actually, you will slowly waste away and loose the ability to speak, walk, use the bathroom, swallow, and eventually stop breathing. And, everyone around will watch you slowly die.

My father in law died in a similar manner but his disease was called AMYLOIDOSIS. His dieses also kills the body slowly much like ALS. But instead of attacking nerves, amyloidosis is a blood disorder in which you cannot rid your system of proteins and your body has no other choice than to deposit them in organs such as the kidneys, heart, and brain until it smothers our their proper function. Like ALS, my father in law's disease was hard on the family because all of us watched him waste away little by little. There were a few glimmers of hope, but nothing that lasted more than a day or so.

In closing, this life is tough and you can count on one thing: You will die one day. I am being drawn to supporting research for finding a cure for ALS and Amyloidosis and plan to become more involved in charities for both. But I am always reminded that on that fateful day, be it a heart attack, an accident, or heaven forbid a terrible disease such as ALS or amyloidosis, when we die there is really only one thing that matters and that is your relationship with God. No amount of money, research, snake oil, or stuff can change the fact that you will "Meet Your Maker" one day and be judged. Have you accepted or rejected Him? This is THE question you must researh and have an answer to before you die...

Let's Have a Battle...

2007-08-06T10:34:00.000-04:00

"The human race was saved from destruction today by a joint task force of warriors led by their commander Optimus Prime and assisted by the Power Rangers, Luke Skywalker, the Ninja Turtles, and several nameless green army men..."

Will's arm in a cast has forced Marci and I to alter our normal weekend plans. Our default weekend activities used to be centered around the pool we belong to, and my personal favorite, golf. Well, all that changed when I (ACCIDENTALLY) broke/dislocated Will's arm and it was placed in a cast. And speaking of that cast, it's big and red so I am reminded of what I did every time I look at him... So, this weekend, we spent the majority of our time indoors, but did venture out for Chuck E Cheese and Build a Bear Saturday (more guilty shopping). And followed by Church and lunch on Sunday.

So, what do you do to keep a four year old occupied and not bored all weekend? Easy, you have a battle. But not just any battle:

A full scale, non-conventional, all out free for all war, that will decide thefate of the entire human race and the galaxy for that matter!!!

In the past few weeks, Will has acquired a huge amount of toys. In fact, it's as if he's had some sort of mid-year Christmas type influx of everything from Transformers to little green army men. He usually played with his toys very selectively. What I mean is, he would play with only one group such as Transformers only, Power Rangers only, or Army Men only. Last week, however, I asked him, "Wanna' see how I used to play with my army guys when I was little?" That was the question that changed everything in his play habits, because I proceeded to show him how I would put all my toys together and then divide them into two forces of joint combat teams, then set them up, and fight it out to death, of course. I did however, leave out how I incorporated the use of firecrackers in my battles, but we'll save that for much, much later.

Isn't this a great snapshot of not only the warrior nature of our God, but also, the very fact that no matter how young you are, there is always a battle to be fought. But not just any battle... this battle is for our very soul and rages around us at all times with one common theme:

Good verses Evil

And, it's to the death. Although we cannot see this battle in real life, it's there and snapshots of it can be seen in news stories from war zones, public trials of murders, and every other evil thing not of God. The battle is real, dynamic, and deadly and I hope that I am not the first one to tell you that you are smack dab in the middle of it. The battle will end when we die or when Christ returns, but until that time, it's up to us to stay strong, courageous, and protect ourselves by putting on the full armor of God, DAILY.

Yesterday, Will and I had a battle of epic proportions in his room. He was the leader of the good guys, and his side was comprised of the green army men, the Autobot Transformers, four little dogs, two M1 Abrams, one Apache helicopter, Aslan from Narnia, the Power Rangers, and the Ninja Turtles. Obviously I got the shaft on this one because I was manned with the tan army men, four stormtroopers, Darth Vader and two planes. My objective was to take the good guy's castle, that was guarded by a dragon. Long story short, I lost, he won, and the world that is his room is restored because of the bravery of his warriors. But to come to think of it, isn't this how

the Book ends?

New Bibles...

2007-08-03T08:19:00.000-04:00

I bought a new Bible. Not just any Bible, but 'The Golfers Bible'. Since I rediscovered my passion for the game and became obsessed with golf two years ago, I've been eyeing this Bible but would not purchase it, simply because of the work that's involved...

Did I say "WORK"?

Yes, sadly, I saw the act of buying a new version of His Holy Word as an extra amount of work that would be required of me. So I've resisted buying, even though I've had a burning desire to do so. This work that I'm talking about is transferring all of my notes I've taken over the past five years in my handy little pocket sized Bible. You see, I believe in jotting down thoughts, quotes, and message themes next to key verses. I also underline, highlight, and draw little figures on the pages in a sort of code language, short hand derivative that only I can understand. And as you can imagine, five years of this adds up to quite a few squiggly lines and strange characters.

But, when I was at the mall the other night, buying toys for Will (out of guilt over the broken arm ordeal), I came across one copy of the Golfers Bible in Borders. At that moment, I felt so prompted to buy it that I couldn't resist. I grabbed it from the bottom shelf and bought it. When I got home that night, I couldn't wait to see what made this Bible different from the others. I just knew that this Bible had to have some special quality or feature that would speak to me AND maybe even help my golf game too.

I opened the package and removed the bible. The first thing I noticed is the fact that it has a very nice leather shell with a flap to keep it closed. I guess this is to keep your bulletin from falling out as you walk down the fairways or practice on the chipping green. Next, I noticed that it's a different translation. I'm used to the NIV and this one is the Holman Christian Standard. SO, I turned to John 3:16 and made sure it was OK, and it was.

My lingering question was still, "What makes this a 'Golfers Bible'?" Is it the fact that it has a cool little logo of a golf ball and clubs on the front? Or maybe it's the fact that it has about ten or so devotions with great golf course pictures throughout the chapters? Maybe it's because it has a fill in the blank page titled "Golf Record" on the second page where most Bibles have 'Marriage/Birth/Death Records'. Really, none of this makes it a golf specific bible. Sure it has some golf related items in it, but you could easily glue some devotionals into the Bible you carry now and get the same effect.

What struck me was the fact that the Bible is for everyone. Whether you are a golfer, soccer player, sheep shearer, or underwater basket weaver, The Holy Bible is the Word of God and is His love letter to you. And no matter how it's packaged, it is specifically designed for you and is unchanging, infallible, and perfect. So no matter how you package it, it's still the Holy Word.

I really do like this Bible and I'm actually through Psalms in the transferring of my notes. The funny thing is, I've been thoroughly enjoying re-reading my notes, revisiting sermons I've heard in the past, and most of all getting into His Word and letting God show me a few things I may have forgotten/missed. Obviously, this was the reason He prompted me to buy this Bible. As you may remember, I wrote the other day about a need to get back into studying and this is a great way to do it. Thanks for making me study God.

My Own Spiritual Cast...

2007-08-01T15:07:00.000-04:00

Well, I feel like crap! Monday's visit to an Orthopedic Specialist gave us three options: Surgery and a cast, an MRI and a cast, or simply a cast to be removed in three weeks at the follow up visit. Obviously, we choose the last option. So, summer by the pool is out, golfing, baseball, pretty much anything that has to do with our favorite outdoor activities is a no-no until the end of August. Oh well, it could be worse.

Will's arm in a cast has made me think about rest and renewal spiritually. In the same way that his arm is set in place to be able to heal and avoid any further injury, we need seasons where we can be put into traction, so to speak, so that God can renew and heal us of our spiritual wounds. I know that lately I've seemed to develop a bit of distance between God and myself. I'm not angry at Him or anything, it's just that I've fallen away from my devotional life, and even worse, my prayer life is not where it needs to be. But, I've put a plan into motion to get back to where I need to be.

Just as Will's arm is in a cast for three weeks, I am placing myself in a sort of spiritual cast for the next three weeks. Someone suggested I fast, but I have decided to feast. But not upon food, chocolate, etc.... I'm going to feast on the Word, pray more spontaneously, and most of all, continue to work on keeping my spiritual eyes and ears open, ever listening and watching for God's Holy hand to show up. Prayers please.

It's a shame it took my son's broken arm to make me realize where I've been falling short lately. But, if the smile in the picture is any indication, he sure doesn't mind the cast. In fact, he's been showing it off to everyone he comes into contact with. The only bad thing is, when asked what happened, he is quick to tell them, "Dad broke my arm"...

A Peek at God's Countenance

2007-07-30T07:54:00.000-04:00

There is nothing worse than when your child is in pain. That is, except for when you are the one that caused their pain in the first place. Thursday night, Will and I were having our own version of World Championship Wrestling on the bed. The match was a full scale, championship death match full of body slams, pile drivers, and of course, high flying action off the top rope (the headboard). The match was great, until we got in trouble by a certain Elementary Principal that just so happens to be my wife. So, we toned it down and did away with the headboard layout slams and just stuck to the basic roughness. Then, it happened….

With him laughing hysterically, I lifted Will up in the air to do another body slam onto the bed. As I dropped him onto the mattress, I noticed that his arm was behind him, then I saw it bend the wrong way! I knew he was hurt even before the tears started to fall. I quickly picked him up and he was jumping around crying and holding his arm that was hanging limp by his side and not moving. I grabbed his forearm and felt it move up, then he started to move it again and the tears really began to pour. Long story short, I had most likely dislocated it at the elbow then popped it back in. The X-rays did not show any breakage, but the Doctor put it in a sling and said, “Don’t use it much until you see an orthopedist”… We did as told and decided to make this a nice weekend for him with a trip to Louisville Slugger, a baseball game (the River Bats and the Durham Bulls), and a trip to see Fort Knox and let him do some “Tankin” like Daddy used to do.

We had a great time this weekend, but as I downloaded the pictures into my computer this morning, I was sad. Just like in this picture (staged of course), I am sad when I see my son with his arm in a sling because I am reminded that, I did this to him… I was the one harmed him… I caused his pain. Me, his Daddy, his protector, I hurt him. I try to justify it with things like, ‘It was an accident,’ and ‘It’s all part of the game we were playing,’ and the catamount reason, ‘But I never set out to hurt him, it just happened’. Could God be teaching me something here?

Once again, God has reminded me that I hurt Him when I do not follow his lead and live outside of His will for my life. I know I’ve done things in the past that could have put His arm in a sling as I’ve body slammed my way through life. But I also know that there is healing through surrender. My friend Roy calls this being complete in your brokenness and I am starting to understand it more and more. I must be more broken and yield to His will if I’m ever going to have the abundant life He promises. I gotta’ be honest and say that I’ve been a bit dry spiritually as of late but this is a huge wake-up call. It’s taken the look of pain on my son’s face to be able to visualize what God’s countenance may be, and it scares me…