About two months ago, we got some upsetting news about my sister Amy. She has been battling breast cancer for almost five years now. At the end of May, they found a new spot on her scans. This time it was on her brain. Yeah, that’s kind of a big deal. So naturally, we all freaked out over that one. It’s bad enough when it went to her bones, but we knew that cancer in her bones isn’t necessarily life threatening. But any time you mess with someone’s brain, you don’t know what is going to happen.
A little bit later, my sister-in-law Jenn called my mom to see what was going on with Amy. Again, I was with my mom when she was talking to Jenn. While she was talking to her, my three year old niece was in the background freaking out because she got two drops of water on her shirt she was wearing. Jenn kept telling her that it was ok, but Emily kept saying back, “No, it’s NOT ok!” My mom was laughing at that and told me what was going on. When Jenn got back on the phone, the conversation turned serious again, and she continued to tell Jenn what the news was.
I was struck by how ironic it was that we thought it was funny that Emily was freaking out over what was clearly not a big deal. I mean, really? Two drops of water on your shirt? Come on, kid, relax. What’s the problem? Don’t you trust your mom when she tells you it‘s not a big deal? It’s under control. But to a three year old girl named Emily, that apparently was a big deal to her. And all she could think was, “No, it’s NOT ok!”
The thought struck me right then and there that God might be in heaven looking down on us saying the same thing. I mean, really? One spot on Amy’s brain? Come on kids, relax. What’s the problem? Don’t you trust your Father in heaven when he tells you that nothing is impossible for him? It’s under control. But to us, it is a big deal. All we can think was, “No, it’s NOT ok!”
I don’t say that to make light of her situation. But I think that God sometimes wants to give us strength, courage, and peace, and all we can do is think, “No, it’s NOT ok!” We trade his peace for our panic.
It reminds me of the story in the Bible when Jesus was in a boat with some of his friends. They were fishing, and Jesus was laying down sleeping. A big storm came up and the guys were getting pretty scared. But Jesus kept sleeping. They went to wake him up and told them what was going on. I’m sure they were freaking out about what was going on (no, Jesus, this storm is NOT ok!). Jesus just spoke the words, “Peace, be still” and the storm stopped. It was almost like he was telling them, “What’s the problem? Don’t you know I am here? Don’t you realize I have everything under control? It IS ok.”
There are so many things in our lives that we can apply that to. Everyone has their own story here, I’m sure. But since it’s my blog, I’ll apply it to me here. I have mentioned before, but through some of the things that I have lived through, I have wondered where God was.
Are you there, God?
Do you hear me?
Do you see what’s happening?
No, it’s NOT ok!!!!
But he is here.
He does see.
He does know.
All he has to do is say the word, and the storms will stop.
Sometimes he does that.
But sometimes he allows the storms to continue, and he sits down right next to us and keeps us safe through it.
I remember a friend of mine named Kari telling the kids at the camp I worked at (and all of us on staff, too) a story one night about some of the difficulties she went through with her own family and how she had a hard time dealing with it. As part of her talk, she played a song called “Sometimes He Calms the Storm.” The chorus has these lines:
Sometimes he calms the storm
With a whispered “Peace be still”
He can settle any sea,
But it doesn’t mean he will.
Sometimes he holds us close
And lets the wind and waves go wild
Sometimes he calms the storm
And other times he calms his child.
Did you catch that last line? Other times he calms his child. God can bring peace-- either to the situation itself, or to the person dealing with it. Either way, he wants to tell us that it will be ok. I think I need to start agreeing with him on that one. It’s easier said than done, for sure. But I believe that God can and will help us out when we lean on him.
So hey, I’ll trade you-- my panic for your peace, ok? Cool, thanks.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Be careful what you ask for... you just might get it
Have you ever been the answer to someone’s prayer? Maybe you have been, and just didn’t know it. I’m guessing that the people in this story didn’t know that they were that.
A couple of days ago, Friday, I worked 7am to 4pm. I was really tired that day, and for whatever reason, it was a difficult day for me. As the day went on, I was getting more and more upset and even angry. For those of you who know me well, you should know that I am not an angry person. Even if you don’t know me that well, I don’t think that I come across as an angry person. I’m not usually like that. But I wasn’t really myself on Friday. I was praying all day that God would help me to snap out of this and get over whatever was going on. It was turning into a big pity party for me, and I was the only one attending. It wasn’t a very fun party, trust me. When the end of my shift finally came, I just wanted to go home and maybe take a nap or something. Or maybe even go beat someone up (I had a couple people in mind, but probably would have settled for just about anyone at that moment). But I had to stop and get gas before I drove home. The gas station that I normally go to was full, so I drove about a block down the street to the other one there in town.
As I was filling up my tank, I noticed that there was a man near the corner of the parking lot, standing on the side of the road, holding a sign. (My first reaction was to go beat him up, but I changed my mind.) His sign said that his vehicle broke down and he needed help. There where I work, I’ve never seen anyone standing there holding signs like that. I see it all the time in downtown Akron, but not there. And I thought that God was telling me that he was the answer to my prayer. It didn’t really make sense to me that this random guy who was broken down could somehow help me out, but that’s what I was thinking.
So, being Mr. Mechanic (that was a joke) I went up to him and asked him what was going on and how I could help. He said that his tire on his RV blew out and he needed a new one. Well, I don’t usually carry around spare RV tires in the back of my car, but I just happened to have one that day.
OK, that was a lie. But wouldn’t that be a cool story if I did? I think I would have been more surprised than he would have been. But that’s not how this went. Sorry for the distraction. Let me continue. . .
I didn’t have an RV tire with me, but I did ask him if he was hungry. He said he was fine, but maybe his buddies in the RV were hungry (I didn‘t even know that there were “buddies“ involved). He suggested that I go to the empty parking lot across the street where the RV was parked, knock on the door, and find out if they wanted anything. I’ll make this story shorter by telling you that there were three buddies in there, and they did want food. So we walked back across the street and ordered some cheeseburgers for all of them.
While we were waiting for the food to be made, I asked them what they were doing. They were traveling from Pennsylvania back to Arkansas, and they broke down here in Ohio. These guys had just come back from a gathering in Pennsylvania that sounded a lot like Woodstock. I guess there were people from all over the country that come there, and they just kind of all live together in peace, love and all that goes along with that (and probably more). Honestly, these guys kind of looked like they belonged at Woodstock (and really smelled like it too). They looked, acted, and talked like modern day hippies. They started telling me how they were all Christians and they go there specifically to spread God’s love there. They serve food there and sit around the campfires at night, building relationships with the other people there and sharing God with whoever cared to listen.
When the food came, the head guy (he just called himself Preacher) asked if I wanted to come back to the RV to join them for dinner. They said they had plenty of lawn chairs and were going to set up in the parking lot to eat. So I walked across the street to eat dinner with three hippies (there’s a sentence that I’ve never said before). The other two were named Virgil and Huckleberry. It was so cool to hear their stories and to find out what prompted them to live this kind of lifestyle-- one very different from my own. The oldest one, Preacher, said that he had a good job and big house, but decided to give it all away and travel the country in his RV wherever God wanted him to go. When he needs things, he said he just relies on God and the generosity of strangers. And he always gets where he needs to be. I spent over an hour talking and listening to these guys before getting back into my car and heading home. It was one of those moments where I couldn’t believe where I was and what I was doing. I never would have expected that my day would have included stopping at Hardee’s and buying dinner for three hippies. But it was cool. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
So at the beginning of the story, I mentioned that these guys were an answer to my prayers that day. I think just making a real connection to someone else helped take my focus off of me and on to someone else. And that was the answer to my prayers that I needed. I’ve realized that God has been answering my prayers in similar ways the past couple of weeks too.
Let me rewind about three weeks. Some of you received an email from me then, and in it I was pretty much angry and disappointed with the world and everything and everyone in it. Wasn’t too happy at that time. I don’t really apologize for that-- I am big on honesty and telling it like it is, and reaching out when you have troubles. That’s how I was feeling at the time. I don’t think that I handled it wrong, so I’m ok with that. However, I’m doing better than I was at that time. I gotta be honest, though, I have had a hard time getting over all of what has been going on.
For whatever reason, these past several weeks have been really difficult on me. As I said in my last email, I think that all of the crap that has been going on all sort of caught up to me at once, causing me start on a downward spiral. (I promise that this entry is not going to be a big downer, trust me. But I do have to recap a little, for those who are just joining us.) For whatever reason, losing my older brother was on my mind a lot more than usual, and then dealing with my sister Amy’s sickness suddenly got harder too. Plus, all of the garbage that I have been living with and trying to make sense of over the past several years all of a suddenly made less sense than ever and that became really hard to deal with, too. It never really seems to go away. Ever. Any of it. And it really sucks sometimes.
I try really hard to honor God through my anger and disappointment. I don’t think that those are sinful responses. I think that they are normal and we should accept that and maybe try to learn from them.
But I can point to three days in particular during that three week period in which I was really upset about everything. The first one was a Wednesday, about three weeks ago (when I sent the email to some of you). The second was a Sunday about a week and a half ago. And the third was the Friday that I just described. And I just realized the other day that on all three of those days, when I prayed to God for help, that he did send me help on those days, in the form of another person. Maybe his answer is not to just snap his fingers and just magically change our mindset. Could it be that when God wants to intervene in a situation, that he works through other people to do just that?
On that Wednesday (about three weeks ago) that I just described, after having a really bad day, I ran into someone, a stranger really, just on a random fluke, and we starting talking. It turns out that we both have similar senses of humor and we had each other laughing throughout our conversation. We have talked several times since then, too, and have created a real friendship there. It didn’t occur to me until just recently that maybe God had a hand in that. He knew that I was having a hard time, and he orchestrated a random meeting, with a stranger no less, that really did snap me out of the state of mind I was in. The same thing happened on that Sunday. I talked that day to another friend of mine who I hadn’t talked to in a really long time. He just kind of called me out of the blue and we were able to reconnect. And then this meeting with the hippies on Friday was the same situation. God heard my prayers, and his solution was to choose to send other people along to help-- in the form of real, authentic connections and community.
I am realizing more and more the value of building community with other people in our day to day lives. I think that it something that many of us are lacking. We go to work, come home, eat dinner, maybe talk to some of our friends or family, go to bed, and then do the same thing all over again. I think God calls us to deeper connections with people than many of us really engage in. Deeper than just “hey, how are you?” There seems to be a powerful healing component to building those real, authentic connections with other people. The Bible even talks about us being in the body of Christ, and when one part suffers, we all suffer. That to me is the definition of community. Suffering with other people when they suffer. Laughing with them when they laugh. And everything in between. I think that sometimes there is nothing more spiritual and godly than friends getting together to laugh and share what is going on.
I don’t know if its just me, but I am hardwired to build connections with other people. My hunch is that we are all like that to some extent. I can spend hours talking to someone about nothing, just talking and laughing with them. It’s funny that I can’t even sit through an entire movie most of the time, but I can talk for hours with a complete stranger about nonsense. I think that shows me that God made me that way. Don’t get me wrong. I have some great friends who I honestly believe would do anything for me if I needed it. Some of my friends have traveled long distances to see me when I needed to see them. Others have helped out in ways that I am truly humbled by. I would say that I do have those real connections with some of them. But I think it’s really cool that on the days when I needed it most, God went out of his way to set me up with some different people to remind me that he hasn‘t forgotten about me.
I’m not going to lie, though. There are still times that I struggle to stay afloat throughout everything that is going on. I guess I would ask that you would continue to keep me and my family in your prayers. A friend of mine told me just recently that he thought that, and I quote, “crap is a test.” After we laughed about how ridiculous that sentence sounds, we both agreed that there is some element of truth to that. A test is designed not only to see what you learned, but to help you learn too. If you’re never tested, you have no motivation to really learn anything. Although, to be honest, you don’t know how badly I want to hear someone say, “This is only a test. If this had been an actual emergency, the sound you just heard would have been followed by instructions . . . “
Oh well… I guess not.
So Stewart, Dan, Virgil, Preacher and Huckleberry-- have you ever been an answer to someone’s prayer? I guess now you can say you have.
A couple of days ago, Friday, I worked 7am to 4pm. I was really tired that day, and for whatever reason, it was a difficult day for me. As the day went on, I was getting more and more upset and even angry. For those of you who know me well, you should know that I am not an angry person. Even if you don’t know me that well, I don’t think that I come across as an angry person. I’m not usually like that. But I wasn’t really myself on Friday. I was praying all day that God would help me to snap out of this and get over whatever was going on. It was turning into a big pity party for me, and I was the only one attending. It wasn’t a very fun party, trust me. When the end of my shift finally came, I just wanted to go home and maybe take a nap or something. Or maybe even go beat someone up (I had a couple people in mind, but probably would have settled for just about anyone at that moment). But I had to stop and get gas before I drove home. The gas station that I normally go to was full, so I drove about a block down the street to the other one there in town.
As I was filling up my tank, I noticed that there was a man near the corner of the parking lot, standing on the side of the road, holding a sign. (My first reaction was to go beat him up, but I changed my mind.) His sign said that his vehicle broke down and he needed help. There where I work, I’ve never seen anyone standing there holding signs like that. I see it all the time in downtown Akron, but not there. And I thought that God was telling me that he was the answer to my prayer. It didn’t really make sense to me that this random guy who was broken down could somehow help me out, but that’s what I was thinking.
So, being Mr. Mechanic (that was a joke) I went up to him and asked him what was going on and how I could help. He said that his tire on his RV blew out and he needed a new one. Well, I don’t usually carry around spare RV tires in the back of my car, but I just happened to have one that day.
OK, that was a lie. But wouldn’t that be a cool story if I did? I think I would have been more surprised than he would have been. But that’s not how this went. Sorry for the distraction. Let me continue. . .
I didn’t have an RV tire with me, but I did ask him if he was hungry. He said he was fine, but maybe his buddies in the RV were hungry (I didn‘t even know that there were “buddies“ involved). He suggested that I go to the empty parking lot across the street where the RV was parked, knock on the door, and find out if they wanted anything. I’ll make this story shorter by telling you that there were three buddies in there, and they did want food. So we walked back across the street and ordered some cheeseburgers for all of them.
While we were waiting for the food to be made, I asked them what they were doing. They were traveling from Pennsylvania back to Arkansas, and they broke down here in Ohio. These guys had just come back from a gathering in Pennsylvania that sounded a lot like Woodstock. I guess there were people from all over the country that come there, and they just kind of all live together in peace, love and all that goes along with that (and probably more). Honestly, these guys kind of looked like they belonged at Woodstock (and really smelled like it too). They looked, acted, and talked like modern day hippies. They started telling me how they were all Christians and they go there specifically to spread God’s love there. They serve food there and sit around the campfires at night, building relationships with the other people there and sharing God with whoever cared to listen.
When the food came, the head guy (he just called himself Preacher) asked if I wanted to come back to the RV to join them for dinner. They said they had plenty of lawn chairs and were going to set up in the parking lot to eat. So I walked across the street to eat dinner with three hippies (there’s a sentence that I’ve never said before). The other two were named Virgil and Huckleberry. It was so cool to hear their stories and to find out what prompted them to live this kind of lifestyle-- one very different from my own. The oldest one, Preacher, said that he had a good job and big house, but decided to give it all away and travel the country in his RV wherever God wanted him to go. When he needs things, he said he just relies on God and the generosity of strangers. And he always gets where he needs to be. I spent over an hour talking and listening to these guys before getting back into my car and heading home. It was one of those moments where I couldn’t believe where I was and what I was doing. I never would have expected that my day would have included stopping at Hardee’s and buying dinner for three hippies. But it was cool. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
So at the beginning of the story, I mentioned that these guys were an answer to my prayers that day. I think just making a real connection to someone else helped take my focus off of me and on to someone else. And that was the answer to my prayers that I needed. I’ve realized that God has been answering my prayers in similar ways the past couple of weeks too.
Let me rewind about three weeks. Some of you received an email from me then, and in it I was pretty much angry and disappointed with the world and everything and everyone in it. Wasn’t too happy at that time. I don’t really apologize for that-- I am big on honesty and telling it like it is, and reaching out when you have troubles. That’s how I was feeling at the time. I don’t think that I handled it wrong, so I’m ok with that. However, I’m doing better than I was at that time. I gotta be honest, though, I have had a hard time getting over all of what has been going on.
For whatever reason, these past several weeks have been really difficult on me. As I said in my last email, I think that all of the crap that has been going on all sort of caught up to me at once, causing me start on a downward spiral. (I promise that this entry is not going to be a big downer, trust me. But I do have to recap a little, for those who are just joining us.) For whatever reason, losing my older brother was on my mind a lot more than usual, and then dealing with my sister Amy’s sickness suddenly got harder too. Plus, all of the garbage that I have been living with and trying to make sense of over the past several years all of a suddenly made less sense than ever and that became really hard to deal with, too. It never really seems to go away. Ever. Any of it. And it really sucks sometimes.
I try really hard to honor God through my anger and disappointment. I don’t think that those are sinful responses. I think that they are normal and we should accept that and maybe try to learn from them.
But I can point to three days in particular during that three week period in which I was really upset about everything. The first one was a Wednesday, about three weeks ago (when I sent the email to some of you). The second was a Sunday about a week and a half ago. And the third was the Friday that I just described. And I just realized the other day that on all three of those days, when I prayed to God for help, that he did send me help on those days, in the form of another person. Maybe his answer is not to just snap his fingers and just magically change our mindset. Could it be that when God wants to intervene in a situation, that he works through other people to do just that?
On that Wednesday (about three weeks ago) that I just described, after having a really bad day, I ran into someone, a stranger really, just on a random fluke, and we starting talking. It turns out that we both have similar senses of humor and we had each other laughing throughout our conversation. We have talked several times since then, too, and have created a real friendship there. It didn’t occur to me until just recently that maybe God had a hand in that. He knew that I was having a hard time, and he orchestrated a random meeting, with a stranger no less, that really did snap me out of the state of mind I was in. The same thing happened on that Sunday. I talked that day to another friend of mine who I hadn’t talked to in a really long time. He just kind of called me out of the blue and we were able to reconnect. And then this meeting with the hippies on Friday was the same situation. God heard my prayers, and his solution was to choose to send other people along to help-- in the form of real, authentic connections and community.
I am realizing more and more the value of building community with other people in our day to day lives. I think that it something that many of us are lacking. We go to work, come home, eat dinner, maybe talk to some of our friends or family, go to bed, and then do the same thing all over again. I think God calls us to deeper connections with people than many of us really engage in. Deeper than just “hey, how are you?” There seems to be a powerful healing component to building those real, authentic connections with other people. The Bible even talks about us being in the body of Christ, and when one part suffers, we all suffer. That to me is the definition of community. Suffering with other people when they suffer. Laughing with them when they laugh. And everything in between. I think that sometimes there is nothing more spiritual and godly than friends getting together to laugh and share what is going on.
I don’t know if its just me, but I am hardwired to build connections with other people. My hunch is that we are all like that to some extent. I can spend hours talking to someone about nothing, just talking and laughing with them. It’s funny that I can’t even sit through an entire movie most of the time, but I can talk for hours with a complete stranger about nonsense. I think that shows me that God made me that way. Don’t get me wrong. I have some great friends who I honestly believe would do anything for me if I needed it. Some of my friends have traveled long distances to see me when I needed to see them. Others have helped out in ways that I am truly humbled by. I would say that I do have those real connections with some of them. But I think it’s really cool that on the days when I needed it most, God went out of his way to set me up with some different people to remind me that he hasn‘t forgotten about me.
I’m not going to lie, though. There are still times that I struggle to stay afloat throughout everything that is going on. I guess I would ask that you would continue to keep me and my family in your prayers. A friend of mine told me just recently that he thought that, and I quote, “crap is a test.” After we laughed about how ridiculous that sentence sounds, we both agreed that there is some element of truth to that. A test is designed not only to see what you learned, but to help you learn too. If you’re never tested, you have no motivation to really learn anything. Although, to be honest, you don’t know how badly I want to hear someone say, “This is only a test. If this had been an actual emergency, the sound you just heard would have been followed by instructions . . . “
Oh well… I guess not.
So Stewart, Dan, Virgil, Preacher and Huckleberry-- have you ever been an answer to someone’s prayer? I guess now you can say you have.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Rainbow Joe
(This is a current post-- I just wrote it today)
I went to a thrift store the other day and bought a couple of things. One of them was a backpack. Inside the backpack was a couple of surprises. One was a small piece of paper with one typewritten sentence on it. All it said was “Vote for Rainbow Joe.”
So I guess I just want to publicly state that whoever you are, and wherever you are, Rainbow Joe, I’m rooting for you. You have my vote. Anyone who calls themselves Rainbow Joe and then aspires to public office is cool in my book. So if you’re out there somewhere, drop me a line. Let me know if you won.
I went to a thrift store the other day and bought a couple of things. One of them was a backpack. Inside the backpack was a couple of surprises. One was a small piece of paper with one typewritten sentence on it. All it said was “Vote for Rainbow Joe.”
So I guess I just want to publicly state that whoever you are, and wherever you are, Rainbow Joe, I’m rooting for you. You have my vote. Anyone who calls themselves Rainbow Joe and then aspires to public office is cool in my book. So if you’re out there somewhere, drop me a line. Let me know if you won.
Sean
Wow, this story is my favorite of all of them. This is, without a doubt, one of the most amazing experiences that I have ever been a part of in my life. It's kind of long, but such a cool story.
December 28, 2009
Hey everyone. I wanted to share a story with you that has been going on in my life over the past couple of months.
At the beginning of October, I started volunteering on Friday evenings in downtown Akron, working with group that feeds and clothes the homeless and those who are down on their luck. One thing that I have really enjoyed about this group is that they encourage the volunteers to get to know the people that are coming out for assistance, instead of just giving them food and sending them on their way. Every week before I go, I always pray that God would open doors for me to talk to people that may be hurting and may need to hear about God. He has answered that prayer several times that I can point to, but I want to tell you about one in particular.
At the end of October, there was a young man that was there getting food and some other things that he needed. My job that night was to hand out batteries to those who needed them. I approached him and asked him if he needed batteries, and then introduced myself. He told me that his name
was Sean, and I gave him some batteries. I found out that he was homeless, living in a tent in the woods. I didn’t ask a lot of questions at that time, but I instantly felt a connection with him. I felt God telling me that he was someone that needed to be reached out to.
The next day, Saturday, I was in downtown Akron again doing some other things. As I was going to get back on the highway to come home, there at the entrance ramp was Sean and another guy, standing there, holding a sign saying that they needed money. I pulled over and got Sean’s attention and asked him if they had eaten yet today. He told me that he wouldn’t mind a cheeseburger or something, so I went to Burger King, got him a cheeseburger, and brought it back to him. He told me how surprised he was that someone actually knew his name and was going out of their way to help him out.
The next time that I saw him was on another Friday night, where he came to get food and clothing again. He remembered who I was, and seemed glad to see me. He began talking to me about how he couldn’t believe that he was in this situation. He had a job at one point, but ending up losing it when he moved to Ohio, and had nowhere else to go. He was from Nebraska, and he had a sister who lived in Canton (which is about a half hour from Akron), but he had nowhere to go to live. His sister was struggling herself, and couldn’t really take him in. I told him that the next time I saw him and ran into him, we could get lunch and talk. He seemed open to that.
I began praying big prayers every day for him. I felt very strongly that God had something big in store for him and that God really wanted to get his attention. I honestly believed that and was excited to see what was going to happen as a result. I asked God if I could be used in this process, and if he would open the doors for that and allow me to be used however He thought best. I told him that I would volunteer for the job if He would show me what to do. That’s how strongly I felt that God had something in store for Sean.
It took a week or so before I ran into him again. We made plans to meet the next day for lunch. There was a place down the road that he told me he would meet me at. And sure enough, when I got there, there he was, waiting for me. We got a table, and the first thing he asked me was, “So, are you a Christian?”
I told him I was, and he told me that he could tell. He said that he thought that no one else would go out of their way to learn names and to get to know people unless they were a Christian. He began telling me some of his story about how he became homeless, some of the struggles he was having, and what he wanted to do with his life. He was only 23 years old and had lived a whole lifetime of experiences already. He seemed like a very honest, genuine guy who was really trying to get his life back on track. He wasn’t perfect, but neither am I, or anyone else for that matter. As he was telling me his story, I was amazed to hear that some of the struggles that he had dealt with were some of the same things that I had dealt with in the past too. I have been through some difficult experiences in the past several years, and I had been praying that God would allow me to use my story to help someone else. I believed that this was an answer to my prayers.
The conversation did turn to spiritual issues. I asked him what would happen if he died that night. He told me that he has gone to church off and on for several years now, but he had fallen away from God. He told me that he hoped he would be in heaven, but he didn’t know for sure. I was able to explain to him from Romans 6:23 about how the wages of sin is death, but that God has a gift of eternal life for him through Jesus if we accept it and believe it. He told me that he had heard that before, but it made sense to him that day. He later told me that later that evening he went to another outreach event for the homeless, and a preacher there preached from that same verse. So he told me that he thought that God wanted him to hear that message. I told him that I had been praying for him every day and that I believed that God had something big in store for him. He didn’t seem to believe that God would really have big plans for him, so I told him that I would believe it for him until he agreed
We made plans to meet again the next week, which we did. He was really opening up to me, and told me how glad he was that God had sent him a friend that would look out for him and point him in the right direction. He was a good guy, outgoing and a really likable guy. We were becoming friends through this process. He was trying to enroll in the University of Akron, but was struggling with the financial aid process. I have a friend who works for the University, so I told him that I would make some calls and try to hook him up with some people that could help. Sean told me that he would call me the next morning to find out what I had found out.
The next morning came and went, and I didn’t hear from him. Another day went by, and still no word from him. A week went by, and I was really getting disappointed, wondering what happened to him. I was kind of angry with him, actually. I had spent hours with this guy, and made phone calls trying to help him out, and then he just disappeared. I was still praying for him every day, but getting a little discouraged.
I found out the next Friday night from a guy who knew him that he had gotten a job working at a motel, and they were allowing him to stay there. I was happy for him that he had gotten housing somewhere, but I had no idea where he was or how he was doing.
On Saturday night, I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize. When I answered it, I was surprised to hear Sean’s voice. He asked me if I would be willing to take him to church with him in the morning. I told him that I would, and then asked him where he was. He told me that he was staying at a motel. I’ll never forget when he told me where he was.
“Sean, you‘re like a mile from my house right now!,” I answered.
So apparently, the day after we met for the last time, some guy came down recruiting people to come work at his motel. Sean was the only one that took him up on it, and he had been staying there all week and hadn’t been able to call until then. So Sean now was about a mile from me, literally. He was living pretty much right in my neighborhood now. He had no idea that I lived so close, but wanted to know if I was anywhere near him so he could go to church somewhere in the morning.
I was kind of blown away by that. I mean, of all of the places that he could have relocated to, he ends up right in my hometown, outside of Akron. And of all of the people that could have been hired, he is the only one who decided to come here. And of course, it’s the one person that I specifically believed that God pointed out to me to get to know. I believe that God took me up on my offer that I was willing to get to know this guy and point him toward Him.
So I brought him to church with me the next morning. He had moved here with almost nothing but a couple of changes of clothing and a couple of his personal items. Interestingly, my church was doing their Christmas outreach for the less fortunate the same day after church, so we stuck around for that to get Sean some groceries and some toys to give to his niece and nephew for Christmas.
We began getting together a couple of times a week to hang out and talk after work. He was really getting excited about getting his life back on track and we decided that we were going to read parts of the Bible and then get together to discuss what we thought about it. Things were looking up for him, and I think that he started to believe that maybe God did have a plan for him after all. He really liked coming to my church, and planned to keep coming.
A couple of days before Christmas, he got a hold of his sister in Canton and asked if he could come spend Christmas with her. She agreed, so I drove him down there on Christmas Eve in the afternoon. He was glad that he wouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone. I told him that I would be back to pick him up after I got off work the day after Christmas. I had bought him two Christmas gifts– a study Bible and a wallet. I gave them to him on the drive down to Canton, and I told him that they represented the two things that he said that he wanted most– to get back on track with God and to get back on his feet financially. I told him that neither one of them were going to do him any good unless he actually used them. He was excited about reading the Bible, and told me that not only was he going to read it himself, but that he was going to read some of it to his sister over the weekend. When I dropped him off, he gave me a hug, thanked me for bringing him down there, and said how glad he was that I was his friend. I told him that I would see him in a couple of days and then left.
The next morning, on Christmas, I got a call from his mom. Sean had used my phone to call his mom in Nebraska before, so she had my number and knew that we were friends. She told me that shortly after I had dropped Sean off at his sister’s, her house caught on fire. Sean was the only one home at the time, but he didn’t make it out. Sean was killed in the fire.
I was crushed. That’s the last thing that I expected to hear about him. Even now, writing these words, it’s with a sense of unbelief. Did I really just type the words “Sean was killed in the fire”??? Is this for real? On one hand, this makes no sense to me at all. I mean, he was just getting back on track. He was just starting to turn his life around. He had just made a commitment to God to follow him. He had issues that he was dealing with, but he seemed to want to change those things in his life. And then this happens??? He survived living on the streets, only to be killed at his sister’s house? I just saw him a couple of hours before he died. I talked to him. I said goodbye to him with the expectation that I would see him in a couple of days. I gave him a Bible that he was excited about reading. Why?
But on the other hand, this makes perfect sense. I felt strongly that God was calling me to get to know this guy. To show him God’s love. To show him unconditional love. To tell him about what it meant to be saved and be assured of your future home in heaven. To share my struggles with him and his with me. To show him that you don’t have to be perfect to be a Christian. All of that. What if I hadn’t responded to that? What if I hadn’t asked Sean where he would go if he died? What if we hadn’t had that conversation? Where would he be now? That’s a scary and humbling thought to know that God would choose to use me, of all people, in this process. Knowing the end of the story, though, helps me make sense of the sense of urgency that I felt for him. When I had been thinking all along that God had something big in store for him, I didn’t have that wrong. God knew that Sean’s time was almost up, and he was giving him one more chance to make sure that he was ready. That’s a pretty big thing.
About a week after the fire, Sean’s sister called me. She wanted to me to know that when they found Sean’s body in the house, he was holding the Bible that I had just given him. I’m not sure what to make of that, except that I think that is so comforting to know that even in the midst of the horrible situation that was going on around him, that Sean knew where to go for comfort. In his last conscious moments, he had to have known that God was with him and he wanted to be inseparable from God’s presence. I was told that he was buried with that Bible, too.
I am sad, and mourning the loss of a friend. I had really gotten to know him, and I really l
iked him. He was a good guy. We talked for hours and laughed about the dumb stuff that happened to us during the day. He was a very real, down to earth, humble guy. He was a friend. I never expected when I started going to Akron on Friday nights to come away with a friend, but that is what happened. As sad as I am right now, I am also happy for him right now too. Everything that he wanted, he now has. He has a place to live. He is happy. He has a future. He definitely did not spend Christmas alone. He is not only on track with God, but he is literally living with God. He is complete and he is free.
So Sean, to you I say, goodbye for now, my friend. I, too, am glad that we are friends. I will see you again. And tell my brother that I said hi.
(This story was read at Sean’s funeral. He was taken back to where he grew up in Missouri and buried there. Since it was so far away, I wasn’t able to go.)
December 28, 2009
Hey everyone. I wanted to share a story with you that has been going on in my life over the past couple of months.
At the beginning of October, I started volunteering on Friday evenings in downtown Akron, working with group that feeds and clothes the homeless and those who are down on their luck. One thing that I have really enjoyed about this group is that they encourage the volunteers to get to know the people that are coming out for assistance, instead of just giving them food and sending them on their way. Every week before I go, I always pray that God would open doors for me to talk to people that may be hurting and may need to hear about God. He has answered that prayer several times that I can point to, but I want to tell you about one in particular.
At the end of October, there was a young man that was there getting food and some other things that he needed. My job that night was to hand out batteries to those who needed them. I approached him and asked him if he needed batteries, and then introduced myself. He told me that his name
was Sean, and I gave him some batteries. I found out that he was homeless, living in a tent in the woods. I didn’t ask a lot of questions at that time, but I instantly felt a connection with him. I felt God telling me that he was someone that needed to be reached out to.The next day, Saturday, I was in downtown Akron again doing some other things. As I was going to get back on the highway to come home, there at the entrance ramp was Sean and another guy, standing there, holding a sign saying that they needed money. I pulled over and got Sean’s attention and asked him if they had eaten yet today. He told me that he wouldn’t mind a cheeseburger or something, so I went to Burger King, got him a cheeseburger, and brought it back to him. He told me how surprised he was that someone actually knew his name and was going out of their way to help him out.
The next time that I saw him was on another Friday night, where he came to get food and clothing again. He remembered who I was, and seemed glad to see me. He began talking to me about how he couldn’t believe that he was in this situation. He had a job at one point, but ending up losing it when he moved to Ohio, and had nowhere else to go. He was from Nebraska, and he had a sister who lived in Canton (which is about a half hour from Akron), but he had nowhere to go to live. His sister was struggling herself, and couldn’t really take him in. I told him that the next time I saw him and ran into him, we could get lunch and talk. He seemed open to that.
I began praying big prayers every day for him. I felt very strongly that God had something big in store for him and that God really wanted to get his attention. I honestly believed that and was excited to see what was going to happen as a result. I asked God if I could be used in this process, and if he would open the doors for that and allow me to be used however He thought best. I told him that I would volunteer for the job if He would show me what to do. That’s how strongly I felt that God had something in store for Sean.
It took a week or so before I ran into him again. We made plans to meet the next day for lunch. There was a place down the road that he told me he would meet me at. And sure enough, when I got there, there he was, waiting for me. We got a table, and the first thing he asked me was, “So, are you a Christian?”
I told him I was, and he told me that he could tell. He said that he thought that no one else would go out of their way to learn names and to get to know people unless they were a Christian. He began telling me some of his story about how he became homeless, some of the struggles he was having, and what he wanted to do with his life. He was only 23 years old and had lived a whole lifetime of experiences already. He seemed like a very honest, genuine guy who was really trying to get his life back on track. He wasn’t perfect, but neither am I, or anyone else for that matter. As he was telling me his story, I was amazed to hear that some of the struggles that he had dealt with were some of the same things that I had dealt with in the past too. I have been through some difficult experiences in the past several years, and I had been praying that God would allow me to use my story to help someone else. I believed that this was an answer to my prayers.
The conversation did turn to spiritual issues. I asked him what would happen if he died that night. He told me that he has gone to church off and on for several years now, but he had fallen away from God. He told me that he hoped he would be in heaven, but he didn’t know for sure. I was able to explain to him from Romans 6:23 about how the wages of sin is death, but that God has a gift of eternal life for him through Jesus if we accept it and believe it. He told me that he had heard that before, but it made sense to him that day. He later told me that later that evening he went to another outreach event for the homeless, and a preacher there preached from that same verse. So he told me that he thought that God wanted him to hear that message. I told him that I had been praying for him every day and that I believed that God had something big in store for him. He didn’t seem to believe that God would really have big plans for him, so I told him that I would believe it for him until he agreed
We made plans to meet again the next week, which we did. He was really opening up to me, and told me how glad he was that God had sent him a friend that would look out for him and point him in the right direction. He was a good guy, outgoing and a really likable guy. We were becoming friends through this process. He was trying to enroll in the University of Akron, but was struggling with the financial aid process. I have a friend who works for the University, so I told him that I would make some calls and try to hook him up with some people that could help. Sean told me that he would call me the next morning to find out what I had found out.
The next morning came and went, and I didn’t hear from him. Another day went by, and still no word from him. A week went by, and I was really getting disappointed, wondering what happened to him. I was kind of angry with him, actually. I had spent hours with this guy, and made phone calls trying to help him out, and then he just disappeared. I was still praying for him every day, but getting a little discouraged.
I found out the next Friday night from a guy who knew him that he had gotten a job working at a motel, and they were allowing him to stay there. I was happy for him that he had gotten housing somewhere, but I had no idea where he was or how he was doing.
On Saturday night, I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize. When I answered it, I was surprised to hear Sean’s voice. He asked me if I would be willing to take him to church with him in the morning. I told him that I would, and then asked him where he was. He told me that he was staying at a motel. I’ll never forget when he told me where he was.
“Sean, you‘re like a mile from my house right now!,” I answered.
So apparently, the day after we met for the last time, some guy came down recruiting people to come work at his motel. Sean was the only one that took him up on it, and he had been staying there all week and hadn’t been able to call until then. So Sean now was about a mile from me, literally. He was living pretty much right in my neighborhood now. He had no idea that I lived so close, but wanted to know if I was anywhere near him so he could go to church somewhere in the morning.
I was kind of blown away by that. I mean, of all of the places that he could have relocated to, he ends up right in my hometown, outside of Akron. And of all of the people that could have been hired, he is the only one who decided to come here. And of course, it’s the one person that I specifically believed that God pointed out to me to get to know. I believe that God took me up on my offer that I was willing to get to know this guy and point him toward Him.
So I brought him to church with me the next morning. He had moved here with almost nothing but a couple of changes of clothing and a couple of his personal items. Interestingly, my church was doing their Christmas outreach for the less fortunate the same day after church, so we stuck around for that to get Sean some groceries and some toys to give to his niece and nephew for Christmas.
We began getting together a couple of times a week to hang out and talk after work. He was really getting excited about getting his life back on track and we decided that we were going to read parts of the Bible and then get together to discuss what we thought about it. Things were looking up for him, and I think that he started to believe that maybe God did have a plan for him after all. He really liked coming to my church, and planned to keep coming.
A couple of days before Christmas, he got a hold of his sister in Canton and asked if he could come spend Christmas with her. She agreed, so I drove him down there on Christmas Eve in the afternoon. He was glad that he wouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone. I told him that I would be back to pick him up after I got off work the day after Christmas. I had bought him two Christmas gifts– a study Bible and a wallet. I gave them to him on the drive down to Canton, and I told him that they represented the two things that he said that he wanted most– to get back on track with God and to get back on his feet financially. I told him that neither one of them were going to do him any good unless he actually used them. He was excited about reading the Bible, and told me that not only was he going to read it himself, but that he was going to read some of it to his sister over the weekend. When I dropped him off, he gave me a hug, thanked me for bringing him down there, and said how glad he was that I was his friend. I told him that I would see him in a couple of days and then left.
The next morning, on Christmas, I got a call from his mom. Sean had used my phone to call his mom in Nebraska before, so she had my number and knew that we were friends. She told me that shortly after I had dropped Sean off at his sister’s, her house caught on fire. Sean was the only one home at the time, but he didn’t make it out. Sean was killed in the fire.
I was crushed. That’s the last thing that I expected to hear about him. Even now, writing these words, it’s with a sense of unbelief. Did I really just type the words “Sean was killed in the fire”??? Is this for real? On one hand, this makes no sense to me at all. I mean, he was just getting back on track. He was just starting to turn his life around. He had just made a commitment to God to follow him. He had issues that he was dealing with, but he seemed to want to change those things in his life. And then this happens??? He survived living on the streets, only to be killed at his sister’s house? I just saw him a couple of hours before he died. I talked to him. I said goodbye to him with the expectation that I would see him in a couple of days. I gave him a Bible that he was excited about reading. Why?
But on the other hand, this makes perfect sense. I felt strongly that God was calling me to get to know this guy. To show him God’s love. To show him unconditional love. To tell him about what it meant to be saved and be assured of your future home in heaven. To share my struggles with him and his with me. To show him that you don’t have to be perfect to be a Christian. All of that. What if I hadn’t responded to that? What if I hadn’t asked Sean where he would go if he died? What if we hadn’t had that conversation? Where would he be now? That’s a scary and humbling thought to know that God would choose to use me, of all people, in this process. Knowing the end of the story, though, helps me make sense of the sense of urgency that I felt for him. When I had been thinking all along that God had something big in store for him, I didn’t have that wrong. God knew that Sean’s time was almost up, and he was giving him one more chance to make sure that he was ready. That’s a pretty big thing.
About a week after the fire, Sean’s sister called me. She wanted to me to know that when they found Sean’s body in the house, he was holding the Bible that I had just given him. I’m not sure what to make of that, except that I think that is so comforting to know that even in the midst of the horrible situation that was going on around him, that Sean knew where to go for comfort. In his last conscious moments, he had to have known that God was with him and he wanted to be inseparable from God’s presence. I was told that he was buried with that Bible, too.
I am sad, and mourning the loss of a friend. I had really gotten to know him, and I really l
iked him. He was a good guy. We talked for hours and laughed about the dumb stuff that happened to us during the day. He was a very real, down to earth, humble guy. He was a friend. I never expected when I started going to Akron on Friday nights to come away with a friend, but that is what happened. As sad as I am right now, I am also happy for him right now too. Everything that he wanted, he now has. He has a place to live. He is happy. He has a future. He definitely did not spend Christmas alone. He is not only on track with God, but he is literally living with God. He is complete and he is free.So Sean, to you I say, goodbye for now, my friend. I, too, am glad that we are friends. I will see you again. And tell my brother that I said hi.
(This story was read at Sean’s funeral. He was taken back to where he grew up in Missouri and buried there. Since it was so far away, I wasn’t able to go.)
The Homeless Couple
Last fall, I volunteered with a group that fed and clothed the homeless in downtown Akron on Friday nights. This is a story about some of the people that I met there. Not really a funny story like some of the other ones, but still a cool story.
October 24, 2009
Last Tuesday, I worked an early morning shift, and I was off by 11:00 am. As I was driving home, I was thinking about some of the people that I met on Friday night. I actually met a lot of people that night, but I got to talk to several of them for longer periods of time. There were a man and a woman– husband and wife– who were homeless and told me a little bit about their life on the streets and some of the di
fficulties they have faced. There was another man who came back to Akron because his mother was dying, and lost his job as a result, and now had no place to go. While I was thinking about them today, I really felt that God was telling me that he wanted me to drive through downtown Akron on the way home and find the husband and wife that I had talked to. I can’t exactly explain how I knew that God wanted me to do that, but I really felt strongly that I needed to go home that way instead. So went a different route on the way home and headed downtown.
As I was driving, I started this inner dialogue with myself, asking myself, “This is crazy! What am I doing? How am I supposed to find two people in the entire city of Akron? And what do I do if I find them?” As soon as I asked myself that, I felt again that God told me that I should buy them lunch and talk with them.
So I started arguing about that. Where am I going to get them lunch? I don’t even know these people. Am I supposed to drive them somewhere? Do I trust these people– almost strangers– to get in my car and go somewhere? What should I talk to them about if we do eat lunch? What are they going to think if I show up offering to buy them lunch?
But I continued on, heading downtown. When I got there, I told God that if He wanted this to happen, he would have to lead me to them. I had no idea how to find these people. So I drove around downtown Akron, looking around for them. I drove through some of the streets, looking out my windows for them. When I didn’t find them, I concluded that it was just a weird idea that I had, and agreed with my earlier arguments that there would be no way I could find them in the middle of the day in the city of Akron. I decided that since I had a library book that was due tomorrow, I would run in to the Akron library really quick, renew it, and then head home.
As I walked into the library and turned the corner, this couple was actually walking out of the library at the same time! Can you believe that? What are the odds of that? I saw them, and said to them, “I can’t believe you guys are here! I was just thinking about you!” I think my jaw about hit the floor. I was genuinely shocked to actually see them. They remembered me from Friday night and we stood and talked for a couple of minutes. They told me that they were just there killing time and were about to go outside to get some fresh air. I joined them outside where we talked for a couple of minutes more.
Inside, I’m thinking to myself,
“Am I really supposed to get them lunch?
Where are we supposed to go?
I don’t know if I want to drive them somewhere in my car, but I don’t think there’s any place really close to eat at”
I decided just to ask them if they had eaten lunch yet (they hadn’t). I nervously asked them if there was anyplace within walking distance that we could go, and they told me that there was a café attached to the library, so we went down there. The thought occurred to me that it was really interesting that I met them right at a location that had a place to eat. God must have had a hand in that.
I spent two hours with them that afternoon, eating and listening to their stories. They are an amazing couple of people. To the rest of the world, they have nothing– no home, not much money, etc. But they did nothing but talk about what Jesus has done for them, and how God has protected them and blessed them in so many ways. It was such an encouragement to me to hear their stories and their perspective on things. We talked about how God can use them, even on the streets, to shine His light in such a dark place. We each shared some passages from the Bible that have been encouraging to each of us. I told them I would pray for them, and they offered to pray for me too.
I struggle sometimes with how to interact with homeless people. It’s easy to say that I don’t think that I am better than them, but I think that deep down, many of us still feel that way to some extent– that we are going to come “fix” them and make them like us. My experience today showed me that I truly can be blessed and encouraged by their stories and experiences. As we were leaving, they thanked me. Not for lunch, but they specifically thanked me for listening to them. They told me that no one really ever listens to them. What they needed was not necessarily another handout, but someone to reassure them that they are, in fact, real people with real stories and real struggles. They really are children of God, created in His image. And it turns out that I think God wanted me to be there to have them encourage me, not necessarily the other way around!
What is interesting too, is that I was leaving the library, the other gentleman that I mentioned at the beginning of this story was also in the library and I had a chance to talk with him for a couple of minutes. I really felt that I was exactly where God wanted me to be at that time.
These people helped to put real faces and stories behind some of what we do. It has helped open my eyes to what God is doing among some of the poor people in Akron. I only hope and pray that I can have faith like they do, despite whatever I may be facing in life.
Brian!
October 24, 2009
Last Tuesday, I worked an early morning shift, and I was off by 11:00 am. As I was driving home, I was thinking about some of the people that I met on Friday night. I actually met a lot of people that night, but I got to talk to several of them for longer periods of time. There were a man and a woman– husband and wife– who were homeless and told me a little bit about their life on the streets and some of the di
fficulties they have faced. There was another man who came back to Akron because his mother was dying, and lost his job as a result, and now had no place to go. While I was thinking about them today, I really felt that God was telling me that he wanted me to drive through downtown Akron on the way home and find the husband and wife that I had talked to. I can’t exactly explain how I knew that God wanted me to do that, but I really felt strongly that I needed to go home that way instead. So went a different route on the way home and headed downtown.As I was driving, I started this inner dialogue with myself, asking myself, “This is crazy! What am I doing? How am I supposed to find two people in the entire city of Akron? And what do I do if I find them?” As soon as I asked myself that, I felt again that God told me that I should buy them lunch and talk with them.
So I started arguing about that. Where am I going to get them lunch? I don’t even know these people. Am I supposed to drive them somewhere? Do I trust these people– almost strangers– to get in my car and go somewhere? What should I talk to them about if we do eat lunch? What are they going to think if I show up offering to buy them lunch?
But I continued on, heading downtown. When I got there, I told God that if He wanted this to happen, he would have to lead me to them. I had no idea how to find these people. So I drove around downtown Akron, looking around for them. I drove through some of the streets, looking out my windows for them. When I didn’t find them, I concluded that it was just a weird idea that I had, and agreed with my earlier arguments that there would be no way I could find them in the middle of the day in the city of Akron. I decided that since I had a library book that was due tomorrow, I would run in to the Akron library really quick, renew it, and then head home.
As I walked into the library and turned the corner, this couple was actually walking out of the library at the same time! Can you believe that? What are the odds of that? I saw them, and said to them, “I can’t believe you guys are here! I was just thinking about you!” I think my jaw about hit the floor. I was genuinely shocked to actually see them. They remembered me from Friday night and we stood and talked for a couple of minutes. They told me that they were just there killing time and were about to go outside to get some fresh air. I joined them outside where we talked for a couple of minutes more.
Inside, I’m thinking to myself,
“Am I really supposed to get them lunch?
Where are we supposed to go?
I don’t know if I want to drive them somewhere in my car, but I don’t think there’s any place really close to eat at”
I decided just to ask them if they had eaten lunch yet (they hadn’t). I nervously asked them if there was anyplace within walking distance that we could go, and they told me that there was a café attached to the library, so we went down there. The thought occurred to me that it was really interesting that I met them right at a location that had a place to eat. God must have had a hand in that.
I spent two hours with them that afternoon, eating and listening to their stories. They are an amazing couple of people. To the rest of the world, they have nothing– no home, not much money, etc. But they did nothing but talk about what Jesus has done for them, and how God has protected them and blessed them in so many ways. It was such an encouragement to me to hear their stories and their perspective on things. We talked about how God can use them, even on the streets, to shine His light in such a dark place. We each shared some passages from the Bible that have been encouraging to each of us. I told them I would pray for them, and they offered to pray for me too.
I struggle sometimes with how to interact with homeless people. It’s easy to say that I don’t think that I am better than them, but I think that deep down, many of us still feel that way to some extent– that we are going to come “fix” them and make them like us. My experience today showed me that I truly can be blessed and encouraged by their stories and experiences. As we were leaving, they thanked me. Not for lunch, but they specifically thanked me for listening to them. They told me that no one really ever listens to them. What they needed was not necessarily another handout, but someone to reassure them that they are, in fact, real people with real stories and real struggles. They really are children of God, created in His image. And it turns out that I think God wanted me to be there to have them encourage me, not necessarily the other way around!
What is interesting too, is that I was leaving the library, the other gentleman that I mentioned at the beginning of this story was also in the library and I had a chance to talk with him for a couple of minutes. I really felt that I was exactly where God wanted me to be at that time.
These people helped to put real faces and stories behind some of what we do. It has helped open my eyes to what God is doing among some of the poor people in Akron. I only hope and pray that I can have faith like they do, despite whatever I may be facing in life.
Brian!
Sweaty Bubba!
Here it is folks, the classic Sweaty Bubba story. This one happened several years ago too, but I still have people ask me about him. Here is the story:
OK, in my never ending quest to keep you informed of the latest developments of my life, I submit to you this next chapter in my life story. This one is entitled Sweaty Bubba and the Possums.
Our story begins at about 11:00 last night (Friday). I got home and my house looked the same as normal. I had no idea that things were about to become very interesting.
I sat down to check my email. My house was pretty dark and quiet at that time. While reading through the email, I heard a noise behind me. When you live alone, it’s not that often that you hear noises in your house that you aren’t able to identify. I turned around, and there was a possum about six feet away from me. He was the size of a small cat. He was running around, playing, sniffing and just checking out what he must have thought was his new home. This was a new thing for me to have unexpected visitors in my home. I wasn’t expecting company, especially at that hour. He must have read my mind because he looked at me, stopped, and then ran down the hall.
What does one do when one finds a possum running through one’s house? I’m not an expert on this topic by any means, but the first thing I did was close the bedroom door. That’s right. Close the bedroom door. Having unexpected visitors in the living room is one thing. Having an unexpected overnight guest is another. If this critter was planning to stay, he was not going to stay in my room. He had to find his own room. Problem solved (yeah, right). I went back to reading my email.
Five minutes later, I looked down, and there at my feet was the possum again. Geez, this possum was pretty brave, I thought. I have to admit that having the possum so close to me freaked me out. I just stared at it. I didn’t know what else to do. When in doubt, just stare. That’s what I did. He eventually realized that someone was staring at him and looked up. He apparently was more freaked out than I was. He took off down the hall.
At this point, I got out the rat poison that I had in my cupboard (yes, I keep rat poison in my cupboard). I also got a rat trap and set it. If you’ve never seen a rat trap, let me tell you. They’re big. The trap is about the size of a videotape. It’s like a miniature guillotine. This’ll get him, I thought. He’ll eat the peanut butter and in the process he’ll lose his head. Fair trade, I think.
So I went to bed. And forgot about it. Sort of. I did dream that the possum got caught, but ran away. It’s a good thing that my door was shut so he couldn’t get in. I kept reminding myself that. “He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. . . ”
And it’s right about at this point that you, the reader, are thinking, “Oh no, he got in!” Let me assure you, he didn’t get in the bedroom. I’m sorry if I falsely foreshadowed something that didn’t really happen. I did use foreshadowing, but not about the possum getting inside the bedroom. Keep reading . . .
I woke up and went out to check the rat trap. Guess what happened? The trap was gone! There was no sign of the rat trap anywhere. There was no hair, no sign of a struggle, and certainly no possum head. The possum and the trap were gone. This will go down in history as one of those great mysteries. Where is Jimmy Hoffa buried? Where is Adolph Hitler’s body? What happened to the Roanoke colonists? What happened to that possum and the trap in my living room?
The answer is, I don’t know. I looked everywhere. There is absolutely nowhere that I can see in my house where he might have gone. He just disappeared. No clues, no forwarding address, nothing.
Fast forward to 1:00 this afternoon (Saturday). I went into my bathroom. I looked down and almost eliminated the need for using that bathroom. There was a possum in my bathroom! I looked at him, he looked at me and for an instant our eyes locked. He then hissed (I promise, he hissed!) and lunged at me. I made one of those weird noises that people make when they are scared. (Why do people make noises when they are scared? What purpose does that serve? Why did God give us that reaction? I’ll never know. It’s another one of those mysteries, I guess.) It wasn’t a scream, but it was a weird noise nonetheless. I ran out, and shut the door behind me. My bathroom is connected to my bedroom, and I was protecting that bedroom at all costs. Go ahead and tear up the bathroom, just leave my bedroom alone.
My heart was pounding and I was breathing really quickly. I peeked into the bathroom and the possum seemed to doing the same thing. He was cowered in the corner and his body was throbbing up and down with every quick breath he took. I got a closer look at him through the crack in the door. He didn’t seem to be missing any appendages from the trap incident. He wasn’t carting around a trap. Amazing.
I went out into the kitchen and realized that this possum must have sent out invitations to my house. There was a noise under my sink. I opened the up cupboard and there was another possum under there! I began thinking that maybe I was in the middle of a science fiction story in which rat traps don’t kill the possums, but actually makes another copy of it when activated. How else could I explain the fact that one possum turned into two?
At this point, I was thoroughly freaked out. I wanted those possums gone, the sooner the better.
I called my landlord Mary Jo (because that was her name) and told her I had possums. She told me that she would call someone right away. That conversation was pretty uneventful, and I don’t think I can make the dialogue between her and me any more interesting or funny, so I won’t even try. What I can tell you about is what happened next. That certainly was interesting.
About an hour later, a truck pulls up in my driveway. Have you ever seen the movie Arachnophobia? Remember the part that John Goodman plays? This guy reminds me of John Goodman from this movie. A nice guy, but just . . . well . . . funny. Funny in an unintentional kind of way. Big, sloppy and dumpy looking. I didn’t know his name, but he looked like his name should be Bubba. If anyone ever deserved to be called Bubba, he was it. Bubba came walking up to my house.
“How ya’ doin?” Bubba asked. And before I could answer, Bubba responded for me. “A lot better if we can get rid of these little buggers, huh?”
“Yep,” I told him and did a polite little laugh. But I was thinking, is this guy really my only hope? Is this my only chance of being rid of the possums?
He came in and immediately strapped on his knee pads.
Yes, you read that correctly. Knee pads. I never thought that in an exterminator’s tool kit, one of the items would be knee pads. But Bubba put them on.
He asked me where the possums were. I pointed to the sink, so he made his way there. He got down on the floor and shined his flashlight under the sink. He stopped, sat up, and said, “Whew!”
“What?” I asked, thinking he found the possum and the trap, or maybe, just maybe, he solved one of the mysteries.
Bubba looked at me and said, “I’m sweaty!”
I looked at Bubba. Sweaty? Is that some sort of exterminator’s lingo or something? What did he mean, sweaty?
“Give me a paper towel,” he said. So I rushed over to get him one.
Apparently, to an exterminator, ‘sweaty’ means the same thing that it means to you and me. He wiped his face and arms off with the paper towel and went back to work.
Bubba kept asking me where the possums were and he kept putting glue traps on the ground. Glue traps are simply a way to trap the possum on a piece of really sticky cardboard. It doesn’t kill the possum; it just traps them so they can’t go anywhere.
So I asked him, “How do I kill the possums once they get stuck?”
“Oh, ya’ just getcha a little gun and shoot ‘em,” he explained.
A little gun? A little gun!? Are you kidding? I may live in redneck country, but I am not a redneck. I didn’t get my complimentary “little gun” upon taking residence here.
So I told him, “ I don’t have a little gun.”
“OK, just call me,” he said.
OK, Bubba, I thought. I have no idea who you are. I don’t even know your name. Would I look in the phone book under B for Bubba or S for Sweaty?
So I told him, “OK.”
I have no idea what I’m going to do if a possum comes along and steps on that trap. Maybe he’ll just starve to death.
Bubba went out to his truck to get some poison to put under the house. He came back and informed me that he forgot his poison to put under the house. He said he would have to come back later. “Ok, I’ll be home for a while,” I told him.
“Well, I can’t come back until Monday at the earliest,” he said.
Monday???!!! Are you serious? What if the possums don’t get caught? What if I don’t get me a little gun? What if there’s more than one Sweaty Bubba in the phone book? A million thoughts swirled through my head as he turned to go. I felt like Rose from Titanic when she was in the freezing water and the rescue boat was passing by. “Come back! Come back!” I felt like screaming. “Don’t leave me here with these possums!”
But he left. And here I sit, constantly looking over my shoulder to see if there is a possum watching, waiting for me. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why. The possums might have won.
I’ll keep you posted . . .
(Just as a follow up to this story-- I did end up gettin' me a little gun. It was a little air gun, similar to a BB gun, but looked more like a pistol. That was mother's day weekend when all of this happened. On Sunday afternoon, I was talking to my mom on the phone and a possum ran through the living room. I quick put the phone down and starting shooting. Do you remember Jeff Foxworthy and his "you might be a redneck" jokes? Well, I got back on the phone and told my mom, "you might be a redneck if you interrupt your mother's day phone call to shoot the possum running through your living room!" Such a surreal moment . . . )
OK, in my never ending quest to keep you informed of the latest developments of my life, I submit to you this next chapter in my life story. This one is entitled Sweaty Bubba and the Possums.
Our story begins at about 11:00 last night (Friday). I got home and my house looked the same as normal. I had no idea that things were about to become very interesting.
I sat down to check my email. My house was pretty dark and quiet at that time. While reading through the email, I heard a noise behind me. When you live alone, it’s not that often that you hear noises in your house that you aren’t able to identify. I turned around, and there was a possum about six feet away from me. He was the size of a small cat. He was running around, playing, sniffing and just checking out what he must have thought was his new home. This was a new thing for me to have unexpected visitors in my home. I wasn’t expecting company, especially at that hour. He must have read my mind because he looked at me, stopped, and then ran down the hall.
What does one do when one finds a possum running through one’s house? I’m not an expert on this topic by any means, but the first thing I did was close the bedroom door. That’s right. Close the bedroom door. Having unexpected visitors in the living room is one thing. Having an unexpected overnight guest is another. If this critter was planning to stay, he was not going to stay in my room. He had to find his own room. Problem solved (yeah, right). I went back to reading my email.
Five minutes later, I looked down, and there at my feet was the possum again. Geez, this possum was pretty brave, I thought. I have to admit that having the possum so close to me freaked me out. I just stared at it. I didn’t know what else to do. When in doubt, just stare. That’s what I did. He eventually realized that someone was staring at him and looked up. He apparently was more freaked out than I was. He took off down the hall.
At this point, I got out the rat poison that I had in my cupboard (yes, I keep rat poison in my cupboard). I also got a rat trap and set it. If you’ve never seen a rat trap, let me tell you. They’re big. The trap is about the size of a videotape. It’s like a miniature guillotine. This’ll get him, I thought. He’ll eat the peanut butter and in the process he’ll lose his head. Fair trade, I think.
So I went to bed. And forgot about it. Sort of. I did dream that the possum got caught, but ran away. It’s a good thing that my door was shut so he couldn’t get in. I kept reminding myself that. “He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. . . ”
And it’s right about at this point that you, the reader, are thinking, “Oh no, he got in!” Let me assure you, he didn’t get in the bedroom. I’m sorry if I falsely foreshadowed something that didn’t really happen. I did use foreshadowing, but not about the possum getting inside the bedroom. Keep reading . . .
I woke up and went out to check the rat trap. Guess what happened? The trap was gone! There was no sign of the rat trap anywhere. There was no hair, no sign of a struggle, and certainly no possum head. The possum and the trap were gone. This will go down in history as one of those great mysteries. Where is Jimmy Hoffa buried? Where is Adolph Hitler’s body? What happened to the Roanoke colonists? What happened to that possum and the trap in my living room?
The answer is, I don’t know. I looked everywhere. There is absolutely nowhere that I can see in my house where he might have gone. He just disappeared. No clues, no forwarding address, nothing.
Fast forward to 1:00 this afternoon (Saturday). I went into my bathroom. I looked down and almost eliminated the need for using that bathroom. There was a possum in my bathroom! I looked at him, he looked at me and for an instant our eyes locked. He then hissed (I promise, he hissed!) and lunged at me. I made one of those weird noises that people make when they are scared. (Why do people make noises when they are scared? What purpose does that serve? Why did God give us that reaction? I’ll never know. It’s another one of those mysteries, I guess.) It wasn’t a scream, but it was a weird noise nonetheless. I ran out, and shut the door behind me. My bathroom is connected to my bedroom, and I was protecting that bedroom at all costs. Go ahead and tear up the bathroom, just leave my bedroom alone.
My heart was pounding and I was breathing really quickly. I peeked into the bathroom and the possum seemed to doing the same thing. He was cowered in the corner and his body was throbbing up and down with every quick breath he took. I got a closer look at him through the crack in the door. He didn’t seem to be missing any appendages from the trap incident. He wasn’t carting around a trap. Amazing.
I went out into the kitchen and realized that this possum must have sent out invitations to my house. There was a noise under my sink. I opened the up cupboard and there was another possum under there! I began thinking that maybe I was in the middle of a science fiction story in which rat traps don’t kill the possums, but actually makes another copy of it when activated. How else could I explain the fact that one possum turned into two?
At this point, I was thoroughly freaked out. I wanted those possums gone, the sooner the better.
I called my landlord Mary Jo (because that was her name) and told her I had possums. She told me that she would call someone right away. That conversation was pretty uneventful, and I don’t think I can make the dialogue between her and me any more interesting or funny, so I won’t even try. What I can tell you about is what happened next. That certainly was interesting.
About an hour later, a truck pulls up in my driveway. Have you ever seen the movie Arachnophobia? Remember the part that John Goodman plays? This guy reminds me of John Goodman from this movie. A nice guy, but just . . . well . . . funny. Funny in an unintentional kind of way. Big, sloppy and dumpy looking. I didn’t know his name, but he looked like his name should be Bubba. If anyone ever deserved to be called Bubba, he was it. Bubba came walking up to my house.
“How ya’ doin?” Bubba asked. And before I could answer, Bubba responded for me. “A lot better if we can get rid of these little buggers, huh?”
“Yep,” I told him and did a polite little laugh. But I was thinking, is this guy really my only hope? Is this my only chance of being rid of the possums?
He came in and immediately strapped on his knee pads.
Yes, you read that correctly. Knee pads. I never thought that in an exterminator’s tool kit, one of the items would be knee pads. But Bubba put them on.
He asked me where the possums were. I pointed to the sink, so he made his way there. He got down on the floor and shined his flashlight under the sink. He stopped, sat up, and said, “Whew!”
“What?” I asked, thinking he found the possum and the trap, or maybe, just maybe, he solved one of the mysteries.
Bubba looked at me and said, “I’m sweaty!”
I looked at Bubba. Sweaty? Is that some sort of exterminator’s lingo or something? What did he mean, sweaty?
“Give me a paper towel,” he said. So I rushed over to get him one.
Apparently, to an exterminator, ‘sweaty’ means the same thing that it means to you and me. He wiped his face and arms off with the paper towel and went back to work.
Bubba kept asking me where the possums were and he kept putting glue traps on the ground. Glue traps are simply a way to trap the possum on a piece of really sticky cardboard. It doesn’t kill the possum; it just traps them so they can’t go anywhere.
So I asked him, “How do I kill the possums once they get stuck?”
“Oh, ya’ just getcha a little gun and shoot ‘em,” he explained.
A little gun? A little gun!? Are you kidding? I may live in redneck country, but I am not a redneck. I didn’t get my complimentary “little gun” upon taking residence here.
So I told him, “ I don’t have a little gun.”
“OK, just call me,” he said.
OK, Bubba, I thought. I have no idea who you are. I don’t even know your name. Would I look in the phone book under B for Bubba or S for Sweaty?
So I told him, “OK.”
I have no idea what I’m going to do if a possum comes along and steps on that trap. Maybe he’ll just starve to death.
Bubba went out to his truck to get some poison to put under the house. He came back and informed me that he forgot his poison to put under the house. He said he would have to come back later. “Ok, I’ll be home for a while,” I told him.
“Well, I can’t come back until Monday at the earliest,” he said.
Monday???!!! Are you serious? What if the possums don’t get caught? What if I don’t get me a little gun? What if there’s more than one Sweaty Bubba in the phone book? A million thoughts swirled through my head as he turned to go. I felt like Rose from Titanic when she was in the freezing water and the rescue boat was passing by. “Come back! Come back!” I felt like screaming. “Don’t leave me here with these possums!”
But he left. And here I sit, constantly looking over my shoulder to see if there is a possum watching, waiting for me. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why. The possums might have won.
I’ll keep you posted . . .
(Just as a follow up to this story-- I did end up gettin' me a little gun. It was a little air gun, similar to a BB gun, but looked more like a pistol. That was mother's day weekend when all of this happened. On Sunday afternoon, I was talking to my mom on the phone and a possum ran through the living room. I quick put the phone down and starting shooting. Do you remember Jeff Foxworthy and his "you might be a redneck" jokes? Well, I got back on the phone and told my mom, "you might be a redneck if you interrupt your mother's day phone call to shoot the possum running through your living room!" Such a surreal moment . . . )
The Toilet Flood
Another story that happened several years ago. I thought it was worth bringing up again though.
Here's my story: I got back home tonight. I was gone for just over a week because I spent Christmas break at my parents' house. I brought back with me a bag full of dirty laundry. At about 8:30 tonight, I put my dirty laundry in the washing machine. No big deal, right? That's what I thought too . . .
About 9:00 or so, I just happened to be near the bathroom and I heard water splashing around. That immediately concerned me, because I live alone. Unidentified bathroom noises (UBN's for short) don't happen all that often around here. In fact, they never happen. If there are strange noises in my bathroom, I usually know the cause. Anyway, I went in to investigate the cause of these UBN's. I saw something that I have never seen before. Are you all familiar with Old Faithful? Well, my toilet had an identity crisis tonight. It thought it was a junior version of Old Faithful. Water starting splashing up and around and over and under and through (feel free to fill in your favorite preposition here). It wasn't shooting up extremely high. It's just that when water is shooting up from a toilet, it’s an unusual sight, regardless of how high it's shooting. The toilet was also filling very quickly with water. Luckily, though, Old Faithful soon relaxed and the water stopped filling at the rim of the toilet. The water was soapy, so I immediately realized that the washing machine had drained and the water was somehow going to the toilet. I have no idea why or how, but that was my conclusion. I was sort of concerned, but I thought that it would go down by itself. I hoped, at least.
I was wrong.
I went back a few minutes later to see how Old Faithful was doing. Unfortunately, nothing had changed. Some of the suds had diminished, but that was it. It was still pretty full. It was at this point that I noticed my bathtub. It was full about 2/3 of the way to the top with dirty, soapy water. I started laughing (out loud) at that. I don't know why, but that just struck me really funny. My washing machine had drained into the toilet and the bathtub, and the water wasn't going down! It was quite a predicament that I had found myself in. Plumbing is not exactly my strongest area. In fact, it ranks pretty close to the bottom of my skills. I decided to start bailing out some of water from the toilet, in case more water decided to make its residence there. I had a little bucket and starting scooping dirty washing machine water from my toilet into the sink. I then did something that, looking back, was really stupid.
I flushed the toilet.
And I shouldn’t have.
I don’t know why I did that. I know that I said that I didn't know much about plumbing, but I do know enough to know that if your toilet is all the way full, you don't want to flush it. I guess I was just hoping that I could flush away my problem. The water all went down, luckily. But Old Faithful was NOT happy. It starting filling up with a vengeance. And it wasn't going to stop this time. I had pushed my luck (along with the little flush thingy), and I was going to have to pay this time.
The race was on! I frantically began to bail out the water from the toilet, knowing that if I didn't bail faster than Old Faithful was filling, then I would have a flooded bathroom. I was putting the water in the bathtub (which was pretty full already), since it was closer than the sink. So here I am splashing water all over the place, scooping, dumping, scooping, dumping, scooping, dumping, scooping, dumping . . . and getting nowhere. The water was coming out very quickly, and I was scooping and dumping just as quickly, but I was getting tired. I was also beginning to realize the futility of my fight. I couldn't win this battle. The bathroom was going to flood. There was no way around it. Either I give up and the toilet floods, or I keep going and flood the bathtub with the toilet water instead.
I decided to try to see if I could get the water to stop coming out. But to do this, I would have to stop scooping and dumping. And if I stopped scooping and dumping, the water would run out onto the floor. I did what I had to do though, and stopped scooping and dumping for a second to take the lid off of the tank. That was all it took. Old Faithful took advantage of this opportunity to flood its banks.
So there I was, standing on wet carpet, watching the water flowing overboard and also trying to figure out how to get this water to stop. I pulled up on this thing that had a big black ball-type-thing on the end, and the water stopped! However, as soon as I let go, the water came out again. At this point, though, I noticed my toilet brush sitting next to my toilet. So like a Medieval Knight piercing a dragon's heart, I bravely plunged the toilet brush underneath the black-ball-thing.
The water stopped.
So, as of right now, round one is officially over. The scoreboard reads Old Faithful, 1; Brian, 1. The toilet did flood, but I had a secret weapon: the toilet brush.
The game is not over yet though. I'll keep you posted . . .
Here's my story: I got back home tonight. I was gone for just over a week because I spent Christmas break at my parents' house. I brought back with me a bag full of dirty laundry. At about 8:30 tonight, I put my dirty laundry in the washing machine. No big deal, right? That's what I thought too . . .
About 9:00 or so, I just happened to be near the bathroom and I heard water splashing around. That immediately concerned me, because I live alone. Unidentified bathroom noises (UBN's for short) don't happen all that often around here. In fact, they never happen. If there are strange noises in my bathroom, I usually know the cause. Anyway, I went in to investigate the cause of these UBN's. I saw something that I have never seen before. Are you all familiar with Old Faithful? Well, my toilet had an identity crisis tonight. It thought it was a junior version of Old Faithful. Water starting splashing up and around and over and under and through (feel free to fill in your favorite preposition here). It wasn't shooting up extremely high. It's just that when water is shooting up from a toilet, it’s an unusual sight, regardless of how high it's shooting. The toilet was also filling very quickly with water. Luckily, though, Old Faithful soon relaxed and the water stopped filling at the rim of the toilet. The water was soapy, so I immediately realized that the washing machine had drained and the water was somehow going to the toilet. I have no idea why or how, but that was my conclusion. I was sort of concerned, but I thought that it would go down by itself. I hoped, at least.
I was wrong.
I went back a few minutes later to see how Old Faithful was doing. Unfortunately, nothing had changed. Some of the suds had diminished, but that was it. It was still pretty full. It was at this point that I noticed my bathtub. It was full about 2/3 of the way to the top with dirty, soapy water. I started laughing (out loud) at that. I don't know why, but that just struck me really funny. My washing machine had drained into the toilet and the bathtub, and the water wasn't going down! It was quite a predicament that I had found myself in. Plumbing is not exactly my strongest area. In fact, it ranks pretty close to the bottom of my skills. I decided to start bailing out some of water from the toilet, in case more water decided to make its residence there. I had a little bucket and starting scooping dirty washing machine water from my toilet into the sink. I then did something that, looking back, was really stupid.
I flushed the toilet.
And I shouldn’t have.
I don’t know why I did that. I know that I said that I didn't know much about plumbing, but I do know enough to know that if your toilet is all the way full, you don't want to flush it. I guess I was just hoping that I could flush away my problem. The water all went down, luckily. But Old Faithful was NOT happy. It starting filling up with a vengeance. And it wasn't going to stop this time. I had pushed my luck (along with the little flush thingy), and I was going to have to pay this time.
The race was on! I frantically began to bail out the water from the toilet, knowing that if I didn't bail faster than Old Faithful was filling, then I would have a flooded bathroom. I was putting the water in the bathtub (which was pretty full already), since it was closer than the sink. So here I am splashing water all over the place, scooping, dumping, scooping, dumping, scooping, dumping, scooping, dumping . . . and getting nowhere. The water was coming out very quickly, and I was scooping and dumping just as quickly, but I was getting tired. I was also beginning to realize the futility of my fight. I couldn't win this battle. The bathroom was going to flood. There was no way around it. Either I give up and the toilet floods, or I keep going and flood the bathtub with the toilet water instead.
I decided to try to see if I could get the water to stop coming out. But to do this, I would have to stop scooping and dumping. And if I stopped scooping and dumping, the water would run out onto the floor. I did what I had to do though, and stopped scooping and dumping for a second to take the lid off of the tank. That was all it took. Old Faithful took advantage of this opportunity to flood its banks.
So there I was, standing on wet carpet, watching the water flowing overboard and also trying to figure out how to get this water to stop. I pulled up on this thing that had a big black ball-type-thing on the end, and the water stopped! However, as soon as I let go, the water came out again. At this point, though, I noticed my toilet brush sitting next to my toilet. So like a Medieval Knight piercing a dragon's heart, I bravely plunged the toilet brush underneath the black-ball-thing.
The water stopped.
So, as of right now, round one is officially over. The scoreboard reads Old Faithful, 1; Brian, 1. The toilet did flood, but I had a secret weapon: the toilet brush.
The game is not over yet though. I'll keep you posted . . .
Musicals DO happen!
This story took place several years ago while I was teaching.
Hello everyone. I had an interesting day today, and I wanted to share it with you all. Here goes . . .
OK, I've never been a big fan of musicals, mainly because they're so unrealistic. I mean, come on, how many times do you go through your day and suddenly see a group of people break out into spontaneous singing and dancing? Never, right? That's what I always said too. Until today, that is. Let me start at the beginning though.
Today being Saturday, I had an entire day ahead of me, and lots of schoolwork. I was putting a bunch of stuff off until the weekend when I would have more time. Part of my work was to get ready to teach a unit on Indians to my fifth and sixth graders. I wanted to go to the library to do my work because I just have a hard time working at home-- too many distractions. Plus, all of the books about Indians were at the library. Following me so far? Good.
I got to the library this morning and noticed that it was a bit more crowded than normal. I looked around for an open table and found the only one– right by the children's books. About five minutes after I got there, I heard an announcement come on that said that story hour was going to start in five minutes in-- guess where? - the children's section, of course. Oh well, how bad could it be? Some lady was probably going to come in and sit on her rocking chair and read some story to the kids.
Wrong!
It was some storyteller guy (not that there's anything wrong with that). And of course, me being in the children's section (the only open table, remember?), I was right behind the bookshelf that all of the kids were sitting next to. I couldn't see anything that was going on, but I definitely heard it. I always thought that the library was a place to go to get your work done in a quiet place.
Wrong again!
This guy was soooo loud! He was shouting his stories to the kids. I was thinking the whole time "Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!!" But I didn't say anything. The kids were enjoying story hour, so I just put up with it. I listened to him tell about the magic geckos, Jack, and some guys named See-well, Hear-well and Eat-well, or something like that. I listened to the kids respond back every time he said "gecko" by echoing loudly on cue "gecko gecko gecko!" It was all very annoying, especially considering the fact that I went there to get away from distractions. He ended his first story and, no lie, told some story about horse poop that people kept stepping in. He was shouting this story about horse poop across the whole library!
OK, so his stories ended after about 45 minutes or so. I thought story time was done. Wrong again!
The next thing I know, I hear more voices introducing the next guests. I looked over the bookshelf and saw an eight piece "band" all with these huge bongo drum-type things. They started banging on their drums and singing and chanting these African spirituals. Each one lasted about five minutes, and they all sounded the same. I thought the gecko/horse poop guy was loud, but this band was insanely loud. You wouldn't have even been able to hear the person next to you talk it was so loud. Still with me? Good, here's where it gets good.
The next thing I know, people are standing up, dancing! These innocent, unexpecting library patrons seemed to be in some sort of a trance or something, because they were dancing. Going down the aisles dancing and clapping and flailing their arms and stomping their feet like a bunch of madmen. I stood up again at this point to see what was really going on. People were standing and watching them, dancing around and getting pumped up by this music. The librarians were behind the desk dancing with each other. Total strangers were moving in time to the music with each other. People ran up to play some of the drums. I felt like screaming "What's wrong with you people? Don't you realize where you are? Shouldn't you be reading or something? Besides, what happened to STORY HOUR?!" But suddenly, I realized what was going on. It became all too clear where I was.
I was in the middle of a musical. I really think I was. This must be what it's like to be in a musical, I thought. Never knowing when the music is going to start. Never knowing who's going to be going by you singing and dancing. Never knowing if you're going to be caught up in the music yourself and start dancing (I didn't, by the way). I just sat there and took it all in. It was like nothing I had ever seen before.
The music ended. The people sat down and went back to their lives like nothing ever happened. To them it was normal, I guess. But I am changed forever. I am now a believer. Musicals DO happen.
Hello everyone. I had an interesting day today, and I wanted to share it with you all. Here goes . . .
OK, I've never been a big fan of musicals, mainly because they're so unrealistic. I mean, come on, how many times do you go through your day and suddenly see a group of people break out into spontaneous singing and dancing? Never, right? That's what I always said too. Until today, that is. Let me start at the beginning though.
Today being Saturday, I had an entire day ahead of me, and lots of schoolwork. I was putting a bunch of stuff off until the weekend when I would have more time. Part of my work was to get ready to teach a unit on Indians to my fifth and sixth graders. I wanted to go to the library to do my work because I just have a hard time working at home-- too many distractions. Plus, all of the books about Indians were at the library. Following me so far? Good.
I got to the library this morning and noticed that it was a bit more crowded than normal. I looked around for an open table and found the only one– right by the children's books. About five minutes after I got there, I heard an announcement come on that said that story hour was going to start in five minutes in-- guess where? - the children's section, of course. Oh well, how bad could it be? Some lady was probably going to come in and sit on her rocking chair and read some story to the kids.
Wrong!
It was some storyteller guy (not that there's anything wrong with that). And of course, me being in the children's section (the only open table, remember?), I was right behind the bookshelf that all of the kids were sitting next to. I couldn't see anything that was going on, but I definitely heard it. I always thought that the library was a place to go to get your work done in a quiet place.
Wrong again!
This guy was soooo loud! He was shouting his stories to the kids. I was thinking the whole time "Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!!" But I didn't say anything. The kids were enjoying story hour, so I just put up with it. I listened to him tell about the magic geckos, Jack, and some guys named See-well, Hear-well and Eat-well, or something like that. I listened to the kids respond back every time he said "gecko" by echoing loudly on cue "gecko gecko gecko!" It was all very annoying, especially considering the fact that I went there to get away from distractions. He ended his first story and, no lie, told some story about horse poop that people kept stepping in. He was shouting this story about horse poop across the whole library!
OK, so his stories ended after about 45 minutes or so. I thought story time was done. Wrong again!
The next thing I know, I hear more voices introducing the next guests. I looked over the bookshelf and saw an eight piece "band" all with these huge bongo drum-type things. They started banging on their drums and singing and chanting these African spirituals. Each one lasted about five minutes, and they all sounded the same. I thought the gecko/horse poop guy was loud, but this band was insanely loud. You wouldn't have even been able to hear the person next to you talk it was so loud. Still with me? Good, here's where it gets good.
The next thing I know, people are standing up, dancing! These innocent, unexpecting library patrons seemed to be in some sort of a trance or something, because they were dancing. Going down the aisles dancing and clapping and flailing their arms and stomping their feet like a bunch of madmen. I stood up again at this point to see what was really going on. People were standing and watching them, dancing around and getting pumped up by this music. The librarians were behind the desk dancing with each other. Total strangers were moving in time to the music with each other. People ran up to play some of the drums. I felt like screaming "What's wrong with you people? Don't you realize where you are? Shouldn't you be reading or something? Besides, what happened to STORY HOUR?!" But suddenly, I realized what was going on. It became all too clear where I was.
I was in the middle of a musical. I really think I was. This must be what it's like to be in a musical, I thought. Never knowing when the music is going to start. Never knowing who's going to be going by you singing and dancing. Never knowing if you're going to be caught up in the music yourself and start dancing (I didn't, by the way). I just sat there and took it all in. It was like nothing I had ever seen before.
The music ended. The people sat down and went back to their lives like nothing ever happened. To them it was normal, I guess. But I am changed forever. I am now a believer. Musicals DO happen.
Woohoo! My very first post here!
OK, so here's the deal. I have a lot of stories that I have written over the years about different experiences that I have had. Sometimes the only way for me to really appreciate the experiences that I have had is to write about them and share them. So I figured this would be a good way to compile all of them at one site and keep adding to them.
Obviously, today is going to have a lot of entries since I am just going to upload some of my older ones. But feel free to read through them and let me know what you think, ok?
Brian!
OK, so here's the deal. I have a lot of stories that I have written over the years about different experiences that I have had. Sometimes the only way for me to really appreciate the experiences that I have had is to write about them and share them. So I figured this would be a good way to compile all of them at one site and keep adding to them.
Obviously, today is going to have a lot of entries since I am just going to upload some of my older ones. But feel free to read through them and let me know what you think, ok?
Brian!
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