Sheer Goofiness

We adopted a shepherd puppy for my daughter's birthday in February. This is not our first dog, in fact, we already have a fluff-n-luv at home, so we knew what to expect (but it has been eight years, so there are somethings we have forgotten.)

With having a puppy in the house, there is the amazing, soft, loving part where you ask yourself "why didn't I adopt this fluffer-nutter earlier, what a cutie! She is fun to play with, she is afraid of the oddest inanimate things, and she sleeps on your feet while you do the dishes. And then there is the poo part that comes in tandem with it, many times in the wrong places, at the wrong times, between the wrong toes. And it doesn't take too long for you to realize why God made them so cute, or they would be so dead.

Beyond the innocence, the kisses, and tootsie roll surprises, a pup brings something to life's equation something that I think we all so desperately need. Sheer goofiness. I think that life would be more fun if we all resolved ourselves to, (at the right times) a measure of sheer goofiness.

In remembrance of goofiness, here are some fun things I that I have done through the years. I hope they inspire you, and that you will share some of your stories, too.

I have blown streams of bubbles over the top of my cubical with my fan.

I have bubble-wrapped many car tires.

Filled a locker with popcorn.

Offered plastic chicken legs to people at the strangest times.

With kids in tow, I would stalk my wife's car, and when she went into a store, I would move it very far away from where she parked, and then we would wait to watch her look for it.

Called one of our kids at school, had them come to the phone in the office just to tell them I set a new personal record in bench-press that morning. She still laughs about it.

Once, on a day over 100 degrees, I turned the heater on in our van until I was pouring sweat, and found a great polka channel before I picked up our kids from the mall.

I love to make up dialogue for people walking into and out of stores. It can really be a fun way to pass the time while waiting for someone.

I have a watch that can control TV volume— a source of great fun at the gym.

I have been known to four-wheel in a two-wheel drive vehicle, hitting the brakes, jerking the wheel and engaging the wipers, sometimes while dropping the kids off at school.

I have great impressions of Alpaca salesmen and Indian Cobra dealers I use when I leave voice-mail. My Jimmy Stewart is 98% on, and of course I can do Arnold Schwartzenegger very well.

Your turn!

If Memories Were Sparrows

If memories were sparrows they would nest in my hair, and sing in my ear their songs of deliverance.

If memories were sparrows, I would mend up their broken, and set flight the dark wing—the wild thing on bow.

If memories were sparrows, I would feed them on dreams and the seeds of my longing, shelter their offspring from rain and from fire.

And then they would flourish—guarding my journeys with song ever-present

On earth and in sky.

If memories were sparrows.


This poem, written for "The Great Poem Caper"
to see more about The Great Poem Caper
the blog of L.L. Barkat: "seedlings in stone".

Too Much Love

These cold Fall Wisconsin mornings, my daughter and I wait for her school bus in our "rural" driveway. It's not a lot of time, but I am thankful that I get to spend these moments with her.

We play frisbee with our dog, and admire the way the morning sun back-lights her, making the edges of her white fur glow.

We examine the structure of snowflakes that land on her black gloves.

We have a special routine of hugs and handshakes that we go through each day. We also recite God's promises we have memorized. Some mornings, it's so cold we can see our breath as we practice these verses, saying them out loud into the air.

Recently it has been, "For you have not received a Spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind," out of 2 Timothy. This was verse we learned at bed time, and very appropriate the days she is feeling anything but courageous.

One morning, after saying this verse to me, I looked into her big blue-green eyes, misty with emotion. She hugged me tightly, not wanting to let go and then she said, " I think I have TOO MUCH love, dad."

On Growth

All growth
leads to contact
to touching
and being touched
where our life force flows.

I don't have time
for the waiting rooms of small talk,
to play at being alive,
to resolve religious problems.

My growing is
having a yearning that hurts,
being breakable by words alone,
and taking the risk
of living on the edge.

But that is how we meet.
Our brokenness touches
and in our craving for the light
we lift off,
dancing angels with weighty feet.

—Ulrich Schaffer

Unexpected Surge

Every time we stand in church to sing, my 8-years old daughter nestles into my side and my arm goes around her. This always reminds me of the closeness I can have with Christ my Father, and how dearly He loves me. Sounds simple, but trust usually is, right? I am looking to once again trust Jesus like this, but I struggle with even the best evidence perceivable in my own life, because of the scars that seem not to have healed.

Ten years ago we left our home and jobs in California and used all of our savings to follow the leading of the Lord to join a floundering missions organization. Pouring ourselves into the people, the work and the culture for almost six years was not a difficult choice. We had some great times of growth, and we saw so much good! And to be a part of such an accepting and close-knit group was incredible. To this day believe we were following the Lord's leading to be a part of this work He was doing in Asia. The eyes of our heart were opened—but in more ways than we were hoping for.

It has been four years since my family was abused and abandoned by those in leadership of this mission organization. Our family was not alone. Many families were preyed upon and many left shortly after we were kicked out, and the number has grown to about 20-30% of the staff. I believe that us being fired opened the eyes to the toxicity of this dark religious environment. This will sound twisted, but I was so grateful to be let go, grateful that I didn't have to choose, because I was very willing to stay and suffer for the sake of the gospel there...and I now see that I just didn't have to, and that my family would have paid a very steep price if we stayed there.

When abuse, lies and abandonment come from those you trust and love—even though my family and I have made it through (and things are so, so good now) I still struggle with the fear. My feelings unexpectedly surged this month when I was physically drained from surgery, medication, no gym-time, and chronic physical pain. I know the time to think rationally is not when one is under such stress, but like a flood, there were these feelings that I thought I had long said goodbye to. I mean, I was the one who just left my last position, I was not forced out. I have a great job now that has been unmatched in respect and care. What do I need to do before I am healed?

I feel like I will be abandoned by those closest to me, that I will be misunderstood, spiritually abused if I allow anyone close, if try to stop or point out abuse, or simply disagree with anyone. These are the things I did that brought down the boom at the dot-org.

So, I have been thinking a lot lately about why I feel the way that I do and what conditions accelerate these bad feelings, what feelings are present exactly, and what has conditioned me to behave this way. Trying to identify what I exactly feel is difficult. How do I break free from this victim mentality? Is it a victim mentality?

Do I just need to just trust Him, to allow His arm around me, and know He is standing with me (like my daughter does when we sing at church) and allow even more time and circumstance to heal me, or...do I need professional counseling? Yes, I want to be fully healed.

When I first thought of blogging, I was hoping to only write about the good things in life that I did not want to forget because I wanted to think only about them and forget my recent past. I was coming out of these painful times and the denial part was wearing off, and I didn't want to wade through the muck of processing it all. I was, and may still, not be strong enough. But wow, it feels good to even have these few clear thoughts written out.

Six Random Things

I had the honor of being tagged by my gluten-free friend to list six random things about myself. Here goes!

1. I love watermelon. My grandpa had a hidden watermelon patch in the sandy soil of his cornfields. After he cut sample squares to taste a few with his Case pocket knife, he would cut me large pieces with his machete on the tailgate of his pickup, and we would feast! It was warm, but very sweet and extremely juicy.

2. My wife and I were house-parents for 11 years: seven in a sorority and four in a group home for pregnant teens.

3. We served as missionaries for six years, stationed state-side, but have traveled throughout India.

4. Rodeo Clown: I think a lot about this profession—how they step into the bull to avoid the horns. Probably my true calling or a reflection of the way I think about life.

5. This weekend marked 22 years for Mrs. 23 Degrees and I. I truly found favor with the Lord by finding her—and she still laughs at all of my jokes.

6. An Etch-A-Sketch, a wheat penny, Stone Crossings, a small bust of Abraham Lincoln, an "I Love you daddy" note from my daughter, and a photo of my son on the football field: a few things on my night-stand.

If you are game, I would love to tag:
Laama Momma
LL Barkat
A Reluctant Blogger
And I tag Kirsten back, because I know she has six more random things she has thought of since this post that she wants to share.

The Ground is Down There

My feet dangled over the edge of my dreams for a of couple of months, as I waited to jump into my new job. It was tough sitting there, wanting to immediately leave, and I was tired of the posturing and office politics. But I waited, giving thanks that this new path had opened up, seemingly with no prompting from me.

Thinking about how great it would be to leave, I felt a long-missed sense of freedom and often found myself swinging my legs, anticipating the new adventure.

Some days I wondered if it was all true. I tried to focus on my day to day tasks as I felt feelings of relief and also some small doubts that it may not turn out. But conditions were poor and steadily getting more out of control where I was at. At no point did I wonder if I should stay. These days gave way to the reality of what I believed to be His hand leading me beside quiet waters: confirmations and re-assurances that He sees me and knows every detail.

Typing up my notice gave me goose bumps. Turning it in felt like a 1000 pounds lifting from my shoulders. My two weeks went quickly and my last evening was spent raising glasses and telling stories, getting hand shakes and hugs from friends and enemies.

I have just finished my second week at my new post and my feet haven't touched the ground. There is a sense of honor, care and humility present at my new work place that has given me wings. Even the atmosphere is ultra-creative with wide open spaces, sculptures suspended from the ceiling, space to roam, think, draw, move. No cubicles, no clock watchers.

I realize I am still honeymooning, but wow, what a honeymoon!