Coincidence? I Think Not!!

My son’s first job was with a place in Tustin called “Video Giant.” With his love for movies, it was a dream job. Then he got an offer to work in the video department at Tower Records and left Video Giant. Two months later, Video Giant went bankrupt.

After a couple of years, Tower fired him because of what they perceived as a security violation. Anybody been to Tower Records lately?

He then went to work for Wizards of the Coast, a computer gaming company that even sent him to the Seattle area for management training. He was an assistant manager at the store in the Beverly Center, when he decided he didn’t like retail and resigned. A few months later Wizards of the Coast went belly up.

He then went to work for a subprime lender at the height of the real estate market. I fear he may be personally responsible for the crash!! First Ameriquest, then Argent Mortgage. He was recently laid off by Citicorp. In my post of February 20, I made the statement “Citibank is in trouble!” This morning’s news chronicles that trouble, which is the reason for the latest slide in the Dow.

It’s obvious, isn’t it? Though he doesn’t have bankruptcy, he’s a carrier!!

So, my advice to his next employer: If you know what’s good for you, keep him happy!

Hymns I Love

Many churches are still fighting the “hymns vs choruses” battle, and I have in the last couple of years joined one that has handled it in a prudent manner. I have a choice of attending a service where the music is the traditional hymns, or one where the music is contemporary with an occasional hymn that is usually more up tempo than the original. I have chosen the latter for a variety of reasons. . (I do find it ironic that those who are adamantly opposed to the “new” music have conveniently forgotten that many of our most beloved hymns started out as sacred words applied to popular saloon songs). But I find that in times of stress, I return to my roots, and my roots are in hymns

For example, the economic news today is not getting any better. I have Christian friends, whom I love dearly even though we have opposite political views, who seem happy that the market continues to reel under the new administration. They are evidently buying gold as a hedge against what they believe is a certain nationwide economic collapse. I don’t know enough about economics to know if they are right. I don’t know enough about economics to know which administration to blame. I don’t know if the meltdown will touch my seemingly impregnable State Teacher’s Retirement System. “I don’t know what the future holds…but I know Who holds the future.” That’s the hymn part. There’s probably a contemporary song that has the same message, but at age 60 I go with the familiar, and the familiar is established in hymns. We had another recently during our pastor’s “Spent” series. He is almost my age, and the hymn played for communion moved him so that he had to comment on it at its conclusion. “I sing because I’m happy. I sing because I’m free. For His eye is on the sparrow. And I know He watches me.”

We have a dear friend who just lost a dear friend to illness. She is grieving, and we are hurting for her. I’ve have lost very few people in life that are close to me, but I suspect that will change as I get older. When I am grieving for any reason, I usually wind up thinking of the lyrics of the song written over 100 years ago by Horatio Spafford. His wife and daughters were on an ocean voyage and the ship capsized. His daughters drowned. He took the next ship to England, and when the ship passed the spot where his daughters perished, he stood at the rail and wrote, “When sorrow like sea billows roll. Whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say, ‘It is well, it is well, with my soul.’”

I am a sinner saved by grace. I sometimes blow it. Through the books of people like Philip Yancey I have begun to understand just what the first sentence in this paragraph means. When I fail, and humble myself before my God, what happens? “He walks with me and He talks with me. And He tells me I am His own. And the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known.” If you are young and reading this, you probably have a newer song that does the same for you. But this one is so very special to me.

Our worship team occasionally begins the service with the hymn that begins, “I stand amazed in the presence of Jesus the Nazarene….” Ironically, they sing it much more slowly than the “original” version. And it’s beautiful. I think I sing alto when I sing along with them, because my mom was an alto and I remember standing next to her and singing it with her in church. How marvelous and how wonderful those memories.

It would be fun at some point to make a list of hymns that I love, and the contemporary song that conveys the same message. For example, the lines above from “In the Garden,” are very similar to “He Knows My Name.” “How Great Thou Art” is so similar to “How Great is Our God,” that arrangements put them together. I think I’ll make the list a retirement project.

Secrets of Keeping My Lunch

I don’t have many original thoughts, so I tend to rely on other blogs for inspiration. My friend Mandy mentioned the travails of her son Jagger who had trouble keeping his steak and Gatorade down. I mentioned that I refuse to lose my lunch. She asked for my secret. Here goes—

In a nutshell, I don’t throw up because it scares me. I would rather endure a 72-hour nausea episode than endure a vomiting episode. This leads me to wax poetic.

I would rather be under a nuke
Than puke
I’d rather tease a group of skunks
Than blow chunks
I’d rather attend church in a dress and scarf
Than barf
(See if you can fill in the blanks from here on)
I’d rather be in the path of a crashing comet
Than _____
I’d rather go to Denmark and become a girl
Than ____ (4 letters, starts with “h”)
I’d rather give Jan the credit card and say, “splurge”
Than _____


I think you get my drift. For example, all of us are fearful of one day being diagnosed with cancer. For me, the worst part of that would be the prospect of the side effects of chemotherapy. If I accidently ate spoiled fish (another reason to avoid sushi) and had to drink ipecac to save my life, I would peacefully await death.

The last time I remember “failing” in my resolve, we lived in an apartment in Garden Grove, so that would have been around 1975. Of course, since I wait so long to upchuck (couldn’t thing of a rhyme for that one), it REALLY REALLY hurts when I finally do. Which makes me strengthen my resolve to make sure it never happens again. Which makes it worse when it finally does. IT”S A VICIOUS CYCLE. So when nausea sets in, what do I do? Thinking, “who will rescue me from this body of death,” I pray that it doesn’t end with an episode that feeds my regurgitaphobia. And for over 30 years, that prayer has been answered—(that’s what I REALLY mean when I tell people I feel like the poster boy for answered prayer).

So, in my lexicon, the worst disease in the world is bulimia. The thought that someone would commit that desecration ON PURPOSE is unthinkable to me. When we were first married, I was riding to San Diego with an uncle and Jan’s dad. All of a sudden, Jan’s Dad said, “pull over.” And right there, on the 5 freeway, he stuck his finger down his throat and self-pumped his stomach. I didn’t know him well enough yet to tell him what I was thinking, which was, “What evil supernatural creature spawned you?”

So, for future reference, if I say, “That’s enough to make me puke,” you’ll know I’m really upset with you.

The Love that is My Son

My last blog was about my daughter, so I thought I’d share some thoughts on my relationship with my son. I’ll try to follow somewhat the same format as the other, with the theme being, life is better when they grow up.

Tim’s early school years were not without stress. He was small entering kindergarten, and they almost held him back until they realized, (teacher quote), “There was a genius inside that little body.” When he was preschool age, I was set to drive away from my church softball game when my friend brought me my son I had forgotten was there. This brain lapse occurred a few years later at the rental car agency on Kauai—we almost left for the airport without him. (Thank you, Dennis) He spent many hours in his youth at fields and gyms against his will. While Jennifer loved sports, Tim loved movies and drama. (I should have put both of those in the present tense). This love developed despite two sets of grandparents who were against going to the movies. So we all got in a little trouble when he was 6 or so, and hurt himself. His Nana said we’d pray to Jesus for it to get better. Tim said, “We don’t need Jesus, we have E.T.”
He got suspended in 3rd grade for using the magnifying glass to set fire to ants in the school playground. Didn’t turn him into a serial killer, though.
In church productions, he memorized his lines and everyone else’s. We have old super 8 movies of him in his Dinky the Donkey costume, mouthing everyone’s words as the play progressed.
He and I had numerous one-way lectures about his grades. It wasn’t until 8th grade during one of my tirades that he explained something to me that changed things forever, and made me wonder just how much damage I had caused over the years.
The haunting words of Harry Chapin’s “Cat’s Cradle” were on my mind a lot in high school, because it seemed like every time he was in a play at school, I had an out-of-town basketball game to coach.
But, in keeping with the theme that “it’s better when they grow up,” I can say the following. If he had stayed a little boy:
I wouldn’t have been able to continue the “family tradition” of weekly lunches at Barro’s pizza while he attended Tustin High School. (While Jennifer had ridden with me into the parking lot, Tim wanted to be let off a block away and walk so he wouldn’t be seen riding with Dad to school.)
I wouldn’t have been introduced to the works of Stephen King. Tim has always been a fan, and has been very astute at knowing which of his books I would like and ones I shouldn’t bother opening. (He may have been wrong in recommending “Misery”. Never liked Kathy Bates and I see her in every page in the book.). But I loved The Stand and the Dark Tower Series.
I wouldn’t have watched him grow into his job to the point where he was the “go-to” guy when anyone had a question
I wouldn’t have had a chance to affirm the first time he was terminated from a job. He came home and said, “Dad I got fired because I screwed up like I usually do.” While wondering how much of that self-image was my responsibility, I got a chance to tell him that the company made a big mistake and God had something better in store for him. (By the way, his first 3 employers went out of business shortly after he left. Since, he just got laid off in the mortgage crunch last week, Citicorp is in trouble!!)
I wouldn’t have had an opportunity to watch his incredibly tender heart, mostly directed towards his animals.
We wouldn’t have had a sounding board for our antipathy towards most things conservative.
I wouldn’t have watched him develop the value system that both his earthly and Heavenly fathers are proud of.
I wouldn’t have Anne
I wouldn’t have Sammy (Sheltie)
I wouldn’t have Pippin (Australian Shepherd)
John Eldridge in "Wild at Heart" writes than manhood can't be earned it must be bestowed, usually by one's father. So, my son, I dub thee, "Man."
If I may plagiarize, “This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased”

You Want them to Grow Up

My friend Kristi posted pictures of her oldest this morning and talked of the bittersweet experience of having her take her kindergarten pretest, when it seemed she just started preschool yesterday. I remember those days with my children and grandchildren, and they always bring a sense of , "Where has the time gone?" On those occasions when my dreams contain my children, they are always under the age of 10, even though they are now in their 30s. I have these special memories of my life with Jennifer when she was a child. (I have special memories of Tim, also, and that will be a future blog)
"Away in a Manger" was our rock to sleep song. It wasn't limited to Christmas, it was a year-round song. Even today during Christmas season when we are together and hear or sing that song in church, we exchange a special look to remind us of those times.
There was the time when she was 2 when she stepped on a hot waffle iron (we had a very small apartment) and burned the skin off the bottom of her foot, and I had to hold her while they changed the dressing. She remembers Daddy's comforting words. Daddy remembers the lightbulb experience of glimpsing a little of how Jesus felt when he died for us.
When she was six she taught daddy an evangelistic lesson. I wanted her to get rid of an abusive friend. She was worried that no one else would tell her about Jesus and invited her to church.
Those are just a few. My blogging friends all have children this age, and their blogs are full of lifetime memories such as I've just shared.
But I have this to say to those parents (including Jennifer) who are filled with mixed emotions as their children get older: You want them to grow up.
If Jennifer hadn't gotten older, I wouldn't have the memories of our weekly lunches at Barro's when she was attending the high school where I taught
I wouldn't have the picture of her with her head on my shoulder while she was keeping stats for my basketball team.
I wouldn't have watched her coach my JV basketball team, thinking of corrections for her girls before I did.
I wouldn't have been able to watch her comfort her brother as he put our 16-year-old beagle down.
I wouldn't have sung "Heirlooms" in a duet with her at a church Christmas program.
I wouldn't have danced with her at her wedding, her head on my shoulder as the DJ played, "Can't Smile Without You."
I would have missed the bittersweet moment, getting ready to walk her down the aisle, when the soloist did an impromptu switch from "The Wedding Song," to, "where are you going, my little one, little one? Where are you going, my baby, my love? Turn around and she's tiny, turn around and she's grown, turn around, she's a young wife, with babes of her own."
I wouldn't have Jeff.
I wouldn't have Jolie.
I wouldn't have Jeslyn.
I wouldn't be wiping tears right now.
So, my 30-something friends who watch your little ones get older, let me remind you: It just gets better.

Where I am Right Now

I tend to ramble--I should probably rename my blog "Rambling Man"--and I like to talk about myself--see the first comment on blog #1. The nice thing about a blog as opposed to listening to me in person is that you can close down the blog without hurting my feelings, something that's a little harder to do in person. See, I'm rambling already!

I am a soon-to-be-retired high school teacher. 82 working days left, to be exact. I have been counting down for about 5 years. One of my college classmates who is now president of a seminary, asked a couple of years ago, "then, what's your next adventure?" Didn't have one then, but have been praying for a new passion. Had a VERY small tax business because it was fun, and hoped to build it. God had bigger ideas.

About 6 months ago through a series of "coincidences" I got connected with a guy who is retiring from doing taxes after 66 years. His practice is roughly 15 times what mine is now, and he is turning it all over to me. (Tithing lesson: the projected income from this is roughly 10 times what we've been giving to our church building project). So there was money potential, but no passion.

Then I started going around with him and meeting his clients. I've met about 10 so far, and all but one are senior citizens. At least 3 of those are suffering from varying degrees of dementia. His practice once numbered over 600 clients and now he's down to around 250, and none of the 350 he lost is currently worrying about income tax, if you get my drift. I saw fear in their eyes as I was introduced as his successor, because he is their friend and they don't want him to leave them. He told me he has been wanting to retire for at least 3 years, but didn't want to turn the business over to just anyone and leave his clients hanging. So far, 100% of the clients he has talked to have said they will continue with me.

So, suddenly, I have my passion. I don't want to be their tax man. I want to be their friend who does their taxes. As far as I am concerned, this business is my Malachi 3:10 reward, and the "windows of heaven" that have been opened have nothing to do with money. May God find me faithful to the charge He has given me.

Baby Steps

Ok, blogging friends. This is as far as I've gotten so far. Help.