Blog
I gave up on New Year’s Resolutions some time ago—their certain failure brought frustration, and I need neither. But God may be getting my attention, courtesy of Home Depot.
Although tending to be a bit mellow and easy going, I’ve noticed my impatience level getting worse lately, and New Year’s Day brought it to a peak.
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The same pic as a few months ago, but a VERY different story.
I hopped on the bike and rolled out of West Lafayette, IN, about six in the morning, heading back to my beloved log cabin in Taos. I helped John get married, and yes, we pranked him. I convinced a bridesmaid who had a key to their apartment that I could be trusted, so we removed all the labels from the cans, put Kool Aid in the shower heads, Saran Wrap under the toilet seats—all the typical stuff. But that’s not the key part of the story.
The wide Kansas plains seemed flat and featureless and boring. I confess I broke the law. My Honda 750 cruised easy at 90-100, and out of the 100’s of cars I flew by, I remember two.
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For so long, I resisted the temptation to weigh in on all the discussion (an intriguing blend of vitriol and support) about Phil Robertson and the A & E dust up over Duck Dynasty. However, resisting temptation isn’t always one of my strong suits. So, here goes.
I’m troubled.
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Worship Band by Roots Worship Arts Academy
If Emerson revealed truth, my mind might be gargantuan: “Foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.” Apart from hat size, paradox prevails in my life. Just last week we explored how we can be “Cursed by Quality,” that a certain level of quality in worship may build expectations of regularity, and if the leaders don’t continue on that level, we experience frustration instead of ecstacy. But let’s flip the coin, because we can also be paradoxically “Blessed by Quality.”
The worship team at our church is good. Very good...
Read MorePhoto by Greg Sidders
Wednesday. The day before Thanksgiving. Off from school because of jury duty, but they rescheduled, so I'm grading essays. Some random sound outside my study window made me raise the blind (closed due to earlier morning glare), and revealed a gorgeous fall day, a few wispy clouds to accent the blue sky, colorful liquid amber leaves. Life is good. God is good. I'm...thankful.
I put that paragraph on Facebook this past week, and it generated a surprising response. So, after some pondering, I thought I’d explore the concept.
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The Bike and the Biker
A hot August night outside Beaumont TX may qualify as one of the worst of my life. I’d cruised out of New Orleans earlier that day, on a chopped ’73 Honda 750. For old riders who remember “Easy Rider,” yeah, it had a metal flake flag painted on the tank and covers. The fuzzy pic above is from earlier on the same trip, and that’s me in the red tank and bushy red beard. I took off on the trip with no notice and fewer plans. Just a backpack with a few clothes, a sleeping bag, a poncho for a ground cloth, and no tent. That last omission proved problematic. The heat and humidity kept me from getting in the bag, but the mosquitoes and unknown biting Southern bugs put me back in. So I gave up about 3 am, and headed west to El Paso.
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Image from Massage Center, Thousand Oaks
The core group of this summer’s ride to Glacier National Park broke up in Redding, in north California. Jerry spun off the day before near his home in Oregon; Brad got released from the hospital after his collision with a deer, and he and Mick stayed a few days to celebrate the birthday of Brad’s dad, who was also Mick’s brother-in-law. I headed south alone for the last 600 mile leg.
Now, I love riding, but at the end of a trip the desire to get home grows, and I was ready to see my wife and our cats. Notice the order, OK? So I pulled out about 4:30 in the darkness before dawn, and hit the garage door remote about 2:30. 10 hours and 600 miles is a good day’s ride, but even with the sport touring bike my body felt it. And, I knew the solution.
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Blue Angel Wings, by redbubble.com
Sunrise carried beautiful conditions into our Conejo Valley on Friday. At about 6 AM, walking out to get the morning paper, I found clear, calm blue skies, and a temperate temperature. Why so many move to SoCal. By 10 AM, everything changed. The typical slight southwest wind reversed itself into a Santa Ana condition, a high gale coming from the northeast, with gusts up to 70 mph.
And I was headed into the wind that afternoon...
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