Archive for June, 2009
Two Big Posts Today
Tuesday, June 30th, 2009Just Do Something
Tuesday, June 30th, 2009
By Greg Primm
I’ve written about waiting on God before. In that post I made the conclusion that “if I give up control of the end, if I release to God the final chapter and live obedient to him daily, he’ll take me right where I need to be.”
I still agree with that . . . but I’ve been reading a book lately that is shifting my thoughts just a bit. The book is Just Do Something, by Kevin DeYoung. DeYoung is a young pastor who, in the book, counsels Christians to settle down, make choices, and do the hard work of seeing those choices through. Too often, he writes, God’s people tinker around with churches, jobs, and relationships, worrying that they haven’t found God’s perfect will for their lives. Or—even worse—they do absolutely nothing, stuck in a frustrated state of paralyzed indecision, waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting for clear, direct, unmistakable direction. But God doesn’t need to tell us what to do at each fork in the road. He’s already revealed his plan for our lives: to love him with our whole hearts, to obey His Word, and after that, to do what we like.
See, what’s always bothered me a little is this notion that God has a specific roadmap laid out for all the decisions we will make in our lives. As a Christian, I’ve always been taught that “God has a special plan for my life”. While I agree that there is a plan for my life, I’ve come to believe that the plan revolves around only two things: loving God (becoming more like Christ) and serving people. Beyond that, I think our lives could take several different paths and still be within God’s will.
Does that mean God doesn’t take an interest in some of the details of my life? No. I think it means that God is more concerned that our focus is on Him and His people rather than on which job to take. Or which house to buy. Or whether we should get fries with our meal. The fact is, if we are focused on the right things, God will use us no matter where we find ourselves living or working.
The bible has lots of examples of people receiving visions from God — specific instructions on where to go, what to do, etc. But there are many instances where it appears God didn’t provide clear direction. Take Paul for instance. If anyone would seem to have a direct line to God it would have been Paul, right? Of course and he did receive direct instruction from God. His amazing conversion story immediately comes to mind. But even Paul appears to have made numerous decisions without direct input from God.
It seemed good to the Holy Spirit . . . Acts 15:28
Paul had decided to sail past Ephesus to avoid spending time in the province of Asia, for he was in a hurry to reach Jerusalem . . . Acts 20:16
After I go through Macedonia, I will come to you—for I will be going through Macedonia. Perhaps I will stay with you awhile, or even spend the winter, so that you can help me on my journey, wherever I go. I do not want to see you now and make only a passing visit; I hope to spend some time with you, if the Lord permits. 1 Corinthians 16:5-7
Not exactly the sound of a guy who’s got his entire map laid out in front of him!
I don’t want to get too deep with this, but this concept has the potential to be a paradigm shift for many who find themselves, like me, with dreams and goals that lie just out of reach. If God doesn’t provide clear direction. If I am seeking God and serving people. Should I still be waiting on Him to set the table for me? Ponder that and let me know what you think.
I’ll leave you with a quote from a great American that fits this subject perfectly:
When you come to a fork in the road . . . . take it. Yogi Berra
Photo credit: Fergal OP
Friday Afternoon Street Urchin Blogging
Friday, June 26th, 2009My Little Ballerina Girl
Thursday, June 25th, 2009
There are certain first moments I’m going to remember about my daughter forever: the day she was born in a tub, her first word (which by the way was “dada”), the day she took her first real walking steps, the first birthday party with the Elvis impersonator, the first day of preschool, and now I can add her first ever ballet recital to the list.
A full 3 and a half hour extravaganza (not including intermission.)
I can’t honestly think of another moment that I was more anxious about. Well except maybe her actual birth, and that late-to-the party Elvis impersonator comes to mind too.
While waiting and anticipating her moment on stage, there was plenty of time to reflect on my little girl who was just a baby not so long ago. Thinking about how weird it was that she’s nearly 4 and how quick she’s growing up. Wondering if she’s paid attention in ballet this past year - especially the last 4 months dancing to the same routine. Hoping that she did her best and wasn’t that ‘one’ ballerina that I’ve heard so much about that gets stage-fright and runs off stage crying.
A million other things were running through my mind by the 3rd hour including why they still teach kids “Tap”, what college or preferably Art School she'll end up going to, and why that Lionel Richie song still haunts me at the most awkward times.
When the curtain closed on the hip-hop kids wearing bedazzled MC hammer clothes and opened for the 92nd time, the noise of “oohs” and “ahh’s” filled the auditorium and I found myself standing up nearly yelling “that’s ma’ little ballerina girl!” clapping and hooting like she just scored a basketball home run, goalie, Stanley steamer (or whatever it is they call it these days.)
I guess that’s what it feels like to be a proud parent – in a Tony Danza sort of way.
My wife, of course, sat beside me with a huge smile and tears. My eyes watered a little, just because I was laughing at how cute she looked, and how the short performance looked more like a routine out of the Muppet show -- funny little legs moving around unsynchronized; each ballerina looking at each other not entirely sure of what to do next, frilly little costumes bumping into each other.
At the end of the routine they all gave their little bows. The same bow she’s been practicing for weeks and “had to show me” once more to make sure it was perfect before she kissed me, yelled “bye Dad!” and ran backstage.
Then that crazy Lionel Richie song popped in my head once more.
The Last Hurrah
Wednesday, June 24th, 2009Atticus worried, he fretted and he frowned. His was not a world to be upturned for the sake of flight or fancy. His was a world created by him and was lived to the extent that he found happiness in it. The move loomed upon him and rested heavily across his brow. His light lay at the entrance of said tunnel.
So it was that we decided to have his birthday party a couple of weeks early- before we left California. He needed to have his friends gather around him and wish him well. He needed the fun of a party filled with children he knew and not fear the possibility of empty chairs or faceless strangers.
He wanted all of this with a Star Wars theme.
And I added a little something that would have his name become the stuff of legend in classrooms and playgrounds:
We gave him a party and we created a memory nearly tangible. He shared it with his friends like so much cake.
There was a moment when I gathered the children around to weave them a tale of suspense and intrigue. I usually do this at parties.
I explained that due to our Star Wars theme there had been reports of Empire activity in the outer-limits of our drive. I nodded to their dry, beer-drinking parents and informed their little ears that all of the adults had pooled their money and hired a bounty hunter (when in truth none of those cheap bastards chipped in), one Jengo Fett to be exact, to hunt down the threat in our midst. To hunt down Darth Vader.
The kids ate that shit up.
I had them chanting, "Jengo! Jengo! Jengo..." when suddenly- he appeared!
Jango Fett emerged from the deepest reaches of
A hush fell over the children, a relative hush, and Jengo took his hand from behind him and he raised it over their frozen faces and they screamed as they realized that within his clutch was the head of Darth Vader.
Really. We did that. The kids loved it. The screams were joy and squeals and the promise of candy, which is something I didn't know about Darth Vader. His head is apparently stuffed with Laffy Taffy. That's probably the good within him that Luke was always whining about.
The party was a success and the children were happy and the parents were content that theirs was not an afternoon wasted, but rather an opportunity to drink free beer in the shade while their kids got sunburned and had the snot scared out of them. And it was good.The only unfortunate aspect of the whole afternoon was that my good friend Joe missed Jango Fett, of whom he is a big fan. It was uncanny, really. Joe had just gone to the bodega to grab some salt and pencils when Jango arrived and then returned only moments after Jango left. Apparently it wasn't meant to be. The force works in mysterious ways.
There was a week left in California between the party and the move and it was filled with stress, long nights and backs that were tender to the touch, but the light grew all the closer and the tunnel? It echoed with the laughter of happy children.
Helping a boyfriend deal with a vicious ex
Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009Streets With No Name
Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009Auf Wiedersehen, Kindermullet*
Friday, June 19th, 2009Sparking an Idea Thursday : How To Finish What You Start!
Thursday, June 18th, 2009
Welcome to Spark an Idea Thursday’. Each week we’ll be sharing some great ideas for a topic of interest to our readers. We invite you to grab our image and carry the tradition through to your own blog! If you do, please link back to this post so we know where you were inspired! Today’s topic? Spark an Idea to Finish What You’ve Started.
This week’s “Spark an Idea Thursday” is all about finishing what you started!
Now I think this is a great topic but I’m going to put a little twist on this one, OK?
What I’d like to talk to you about instead is WHY you don’t finish what you start.
Why the closer you get to finishing something, the harder it is to complete.
For instance, whenever I’d jump into a home improvement project I’d start with such enthusiasm…but just about the time I should be finishing up…I stop.
I’ll just get bored and I’ll move on to other things.
I’ve done ALL the heavy lifting and now I just can’t seem to finish the detail work, know what I mean?
It doesn’t matter if I’m painting the house, cleaning the basement or installing a laminate floor ( By the way, I guarantee if my wife is reading this she’s saying…yes, go on sir…)
Anyway, I never really understood why I’d start a project and then have such a hard time finishing it.
It really bugged me!
This was until I read “The War of Art” by Steven Pressfield.
Steven Pressfield is a best selling author of many well known books but he’s most notably known for writing “The Legend Of Bagger Vance.”
Now in “The War of Art,” Steven Pressfield clearly identifies the problem that ails us all at one time or another.
And by the way, this is the primary reason we DO NOT finish what we start and her name is… PROCRASTINATION!
Or, as Pressfield labels her, Resistance.
Pressfield labels Resistance as the enemy of creativity. The destructive force which lives inside all of us preventing you and I from reaching the mountain top of life or simply prevents us from finishing the moldings around our laminate floors!
Pressfield humanizes procrastination and warns us of her behaviors.
You see, Resistance will stop at nothing to prevent us from starting or finishing anything we deem worthwhile.
Pressfield says any act that rejects immediate gratification in favor of long term growth, health,or integrity triggers Resistance.
The more worthwile cause or activity, the harder she fights!
In fact, as I sat down to write this post, Pressfield reminds me: Writing this post is not hard, it was getting me to sit down and write that’s the hard part, got it?
I’m a little off topic here so let me swing around and get to my point, OK?
You see, on page 18 of his book, Pressfield hits the nail on the head as to why you and I don’t finish what we start and here is what he says….
“The danger is great when the finish line is in site. At this point, Resistance knows we’re about to beat it. It hits the panic button. It marshals one last assault and slams us with everything it’s got.”
See, this is where you need to be most prepared…it’s at the end when you must be alert to Resistance and be prepared for the “counterattack!”
I’ve found humanizing Resistance and being able to identify her has helped me bust through the wall of getting it done!
Any time my little voice says, ” Just do it tomorrow” or “I’ll only watch 15 minutes of this show, THEN I’ll do my work” is just Resistance keeping me from doing my work!
Like Pressfield says, ” Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us. Between the two stands Resistance.”
So, have you put off starting your business? Do you have a book idea you would like to start writing?
Or, do you just want to finish the baseboard moldings around your brand new laminate floor?
Now it’s time to MAN UP and kick Resistance in the Butt!
Now get busy, Bill Parlaman
And the Days You Can’t Miss
Wednesday, June 17th, 200924 hours earlier I had been holding the hand of my aunt on one side and my sister on the other. I stared at crosses and through a window and into the eyes of my father at the podium, alone and crying. His pain was loss and loneliness.
My grandfather was behind me. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't look at anyone, but especially not him. Swimming in a sea of heartache is for country songs and bad poetry. There is no comfort there.
My grandfather was behind me and his pain was loss and loneliness.
24 hours earlier I had been drinking terrible coffee on a plane somewhere over someone else drinking coffee, hopefully better. I had been up since 4:30 and slept little the night before. I hadn't eaten anything.
Arizona in June is helpless and hopeless. It is hell with less trees. The earth peels in every direction and the wind slaps you with lies and hot air. There is no comfort there.
It is hotter in the sadness.
I landed in Seattle at 10:30 on Sunday morning. It was Atticus' 6th birthday. I hugged him and his brother and asked if he was ready to celebrate.
He was.
Happy Birthday, Son.
