The same organization that had trouble administering “cash for clunkers” wants to handle your #healthcare.

Long and winding road

We’re back from a wonderful, yet exhausting, trip out west.

I like trips like these because we tend to reconnect with folk that have shaped our lives. Whether they be family, childhood friends or old neighbors – each of them has played a role in crafting who we are and how we perceive the world around us.

Those seemingly incidental conversations while prepping a meal, getting the kids ready for bed or tossing a football around the yard are golden. I know they aren’t always heady – but they’re always meaningful. I think so because each one there knows that within days you’ll not see each other again for a year or more.

I wonder, as I live out a more ‘routine’ life back home if I can live with such intention?

>>more thoughts later?

musings from days past.

When I don’t journal I’m tempted to live in the moment – forgetting what joys and sorrows have gripped me in the past. I found this particular entry this morning when rooting through some files. I’m thankful I’m not in this place anymore; thankful that God does answer prayers.

What will a day bring when you wake with hope strangled?
The enemy already at the gate; their camp fires burning and their songs bright.

What will a day bring when once friends greet with a sideways glance and are more enemy than advocate?

Good food, hot coffee bring momentary comfort. I sit on soft leather and hear well crafted tunes – good things, but they are vain. They offer no respite for my soul, from my soul.

God, will you take this pain? Own it for me because I cannot bear it alone. I ask for escape but more so for healing. Redeem this. Redeem all of this.

My memory of being reborn is faint today. I have a fleeting image of the joy of life anew. Bring this again dear Lord, because my mis-planted hopes have become poison.

Wondering as I wander

The past year or so has been a rough one. Some of it was health, some of it the ongoing battle between the old and new man. All of it humbling. The past few days I’ve been reflecting on what I value in life and what in turn makes life valuable. In Sunday school this past weekend I was impressed by a few phrase’s Paul spoke to the church in Philipi.

I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, so that through my being with you again your joy in Christ Jesus will overflow on account of me.

While I’ve not battled life threatening illnesses I have had a rough run of things, this coupled with ignoble tensions with some friends had me at times question whether this life was worth living. This never trended toward suicidal thoughts, but it did fuel a “woe is me” attitude and had me longing to be “done with this world” enough times to make Paul’s letter resonate with me.

What I find inspiring in this passage of Paul’s is while he is in a really horrid situation (imprisoned for his beliefs) his thoughts weigh the passion/desire to be reunited with his savior. Paul here shows his heart and his anguish over this life. In the past few years he’s seen to the execution of people, been struck blind and been made whole. Then going on to be shipwrecked, bitten by a poisonous snake, repeatedly beaten by mobs and imprisoned. He has a point when he ” desire(s) to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far.”

Paul does not stay there. He is convinced that while he’d rather be in glory with his Lord it is better to remain as an example and testimony to the believers there in Philipi. Specifically he thinks of  individuals. He has seen the Holy Spirit at work in them and he wants to continue with them in their “progress and joy in the faith.” I love this. I am so not there yet – but I love it.

Facebook has killed my blog. Long live the blog.

Okay, I let it die, but can I still be a victim? Twitter almost killed it (I had a brief digital affair) but I still blame FB.

Suffice to say, I’m not sure where the blog fits anymore into how I write or communicate. FB is a much more fluid and connected environment but it has it’s limits and distractions. Like, did I really need to tell DeeDee at midnight last night to wake up? Not sure on that.

Anyway, while the blog has been a great place to write and read about others thoughts and opinions I’m wondering if it will still be “the place” to do so. I complained all the time with friends and enemies that I’d rather discuss a topic over an ale than batter around [insert polarizing topic here] on a blog (these can also be called websites) but once in while a blog can be a great place to work through an idea. Granted it attracts quips and its share of jabs, but there have been some times when this may be the only place for me to talk through something.

So I’ve decided to reform This Old Drug House – which is what often should be done with old drug houses anyway. Since the kids are getting older and we’ve our share of schooling stories we’re going to focus on that. If I can, I’m going to bring Sara in on this. She claims she’s lost too many brain cells from having four kids but I seriously doubt that.

Stay tuned – or at least set your RSS readers to follow – and we’ll see what we can drum up that will be worth reading.

Peace all.

The English Rose – a cross cultural biker bar

Sila, an old American African friend of mine, and I met the other afternoon for tea. We used to frequent Greyfriars but have migrated to the English Rose since the tea is better and they have ‘biscuits.’

Since I’ve been riding my bike more these days I’m usually in the possession of my motocycle helmet and wear my riding boots more oft than not. I couldn’t help but smile at the fact that my bicycle helmet looked quite odd in what can only be seen as a very girly shop. Adding to that scene my friend with ample melanin and you get a scene that I would believe to be quite rare.

Rummage is a verb,

and can be both intransitive and transitive. Today I’m going to focus on the latter usage with the direct object being myself.

All good things…

…must come to an end. Evidently my joy of having clear lungs was a short lived vacation from breathing frustration. Last night after carrying a few of my boys around my lungs decided to revolt. The coughing that went on for the rest of the evening is now prompting me to get off my lazy arse and get in to see a doctor. Too bad our new favorite doctor moved to Alaska this summer.

Breathing easier

I must say that the last seven days have been by far the best I’ve had in months – and no, the recent election had nothing to do with it. So here’s a not so short list of things I’m thankful for this week.

1. That a chest cold I’d been dragging along for the last several weeks seems to have finally left the building. It’s amazing what how much better your outlook on life can be when you can take a full breath and not be in jeopardy of kicking off a coughing fit.
2. Volunteering at Calvin Donaldson. For one, the teacher I’m working with is a class act. He chose to work in one of the tougher schools in our county and is good at what he does. Kudos to Will Honeycutt for both the invite and the decision to inquire with Mike about helping in there. The kids are great and take well to the unpolished help I have to offer. I consider it an honor to be a part of that classroom.
3. Our family had the chance to help with IHN at our church this week. This is an opportunity we’ve always been glad to take part in. This week was particularly good because our oldest daughter Emma was able to relate with the girls there  – working on homework together then run around the church like banshees.
4. Singing. Another benefit of feeling better is feeling like you’re able to do something more than get up, wash, eat, work, sleep. Having the energy, lungs and opportunity to sing with some guys last night was a gift. I forgot how much I enjoyed it.
5. Chattup. Thanks to John Hawbaker and the Chattariti folk for putting these together. Thanks to Sara for letting her husband out for the night so he can talk through political musings with folk who don’t share his opinions. I’m a firm believer that isolated political beliefs breed insanity.
6. My work. For all the headache and garbage we have to deal with running a small business we’re blessed folk.
7. My friends. I’m amazed by them.
8. Chattanooga. Quite honestly, this city rocks. I’ve lived, traveled and worked all over. This place is special – don’t take it for granted.

Day is done, gone the sun, From the hills, from the lake, From the skies. All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.