Beating a bad day in kindergarten (by Billy Coffey)

I remember two things about my first day of kindergarten.

One was that my teacher was Mrs. Frost and that her name fit perfectly with her personality. So much so that by snack time on that first day I was planning her downfall, by lunch I was imagining my own, and by recess I was praying for the rapture.

Which brings me to the second memory, which is of me uttering that prayer from inside a partially buried tractor tire that was part of the playground equipment. I’d hidden there as the rest of the class lined up after recess, and I planned on staying put until either Jesus came or the school year was over.

Jesus didn’t come of course, but Mrs. Frost did. The subsequent chewing out she gave me remains fresh in my mind even after all these years. Mrs. Frost was not my favorite teacher, which may or may not have had something to do with the fact that I was not her favorite pupil.

I was thinking about all of that two Sundays ago as I tucked my son into bed. It was an important moment, the magnitude of which was not lost on either of us. I may have been pulling the covers over a boy, but what would emerge from them the next day would be a young man. One who would trade worn pajamas and Spongebob for new jeans and a teacher.

Unlike me at his age, my son was looking forward to his first day of school. It was the promise of newness that enchanted him—new clothes, new notebooks and pencils, new people and places. That night would be to him a sort of baptism. He would go to sleep one person and awake another.

As I write this there are two pictures in front of me. One shows him on the front porch just before leaving for school, back straight and chin out, a smiling Alexander the Small out to defeat the world. Because new things are easy. New things are exciting. And our days were meant for conquering.

The second picture was taken just a few hours later. He is slumped in his chair at school, shoulders rounded and chin tucked. His smile is still there, though barely and forced. And his new Lightning McQueen book bag is shoved to the side and all but forgotten.

What happened? Simple. My son had discovered in the span of two hours one of life’s most difficult lessons to learn—not all of our days are meant for conquering. Sometimes the best we can do is survive them.

And he survived. He did not hide in playground equipment and did not get yelled at by his teacher. There was no plotting of anyone’s downfall. In fact, he came home smiling. All because he learned how to turn a bad day upside down.
For instance.

That second picture I was telling you about? The one with the slumped shoulders and the forced smile? That’s rule number one—smile anyway. It might be difficult and it might not look pretty, but sometimes thinking you’re happy will make you so. My experience anyway.

He made friends, too. Fellow castaways on the strange island of Education. Boys and girls who weren’t having such a great day themselves, but who banded together because of it. Which just goes to show that misery may indeed love company, but only so a little happiness can sprout.

And he played. He ran and jumped and colored and stood in the sun. He felt better after that, he told me. I could see why. Playing makes any day a good one, even if it’s really sort of bad.

But most of all? He prayed. Not aloud, and not so anyone would notice. Such things are frowned upon in public schools. Instead, he kept his eyes and ears open, trusting that God would do two things: get him through the day, and get him home.

I’ll always remember my first day of kindergarten, though maybe for the wrong reasons. I hope my son remembers his, too. I know I will. Because he taught me what we’re all supposed to do when our days start out heading north only to take a sudden turn southward.

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at What I Learned Today and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

Revelation Song

I'll be honest. I searched a dozen or so versions of this song on You Tube. I like this version, but since I learned the song from Jeff and Tamara before I heard the recorded version, I gotta tell you - I like the way we sing it the best. Just a personal preference I suppose. Not to take anything away from this version. It's really good. In the end, my preference doesn't matter. We sing to an audience of One. Hope you have a wonderful Sunday.



Worthy is the Lamb Who was slain
Holy, holy is He
Sing a new song to Him Who sits on
Heaven's mercy seat

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty
Who was and is and is to come
With all creation I sing praise to the King of kings
You are my everything, and I will adore You

Clothed in rainbows of living color
Flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder
Blessing and honor, strength and glory and power be
To You, the only wise King

CHORUS

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty
Who was and is and is to come
With all creation I sing praise to the King of kings
You are my everything, and I will adore You

Filled with wonder, awestruck wonder
At the mention of Your Name
Jesus, Your Name is power, breath and living water,
such a marvelous mys- tery

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty
Who was and is and is to come
With all creation I sing praise to the King of kings
You are my everything, and I will adore You

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty
Who was and is and is to come
With all creation I sing praise to the King of kings
You are my everything, and I will adore You

And just because I big, pink fuzzy heart this song, I wanted to share it with you (again):

Do you know this sandwich needs? A ham sandwich!

Friend and pastor Jeff Hogan alerted me to this new alternative to sandwiches made with carbohydrate laden sandwiches buns. The masterminds at KFC have come up with a solution. Behold the New KFC Double Down Sandwich!:





For the full, in-depth (and amusing) story, check out Rant and Rave's review of The New KFC Double-down Sandwich!

Now if you will excuse me, watching that video made my left ventricle hurt. I'm gonna go lie down.


As always - Sorry/You're welcome.

Squirrels, coffee and brownie in a cup

I was shocked and appauled at how few tweets I had this week. Mostly because even though I was on the computer quite a bit, I was actually working - like doing real worky stuff. Strange sensation, I gotta tell ya. I was however, sucked back into the twitter on several occassions, tried to leave, and then got sucked back in again. Okay, okay...I'm making excuses. It's just too much fun sometimes! Besides, one of my tweets actually inspired @redclaydiaries to write a very touching blog post about squirrels and coffee. So there you go.

Also? Helen is back. So YAY!

Also? I still hate snarky anonymous comments. BOO!

And @rachellegardner - I'm sure brownie in a cup is wonderful. Just seems like a whole lot of trouble for not very much chocolatey deliciousness. Simmer down, girl.

The best (or not) of me on the twitter:

@beckfromfrogandtoad Oh....Canada. Cursed metric system!

@beckfromfrogandtoad I still can't believe it's 10 anywhere! It's like 90 hundred degrees here with 200% humidity.

RT @beckfromfrogandtoad: It is 10 out this morning. TEN. G'bye, summer. //TEN? Get out!

RT @tremendousnews: I spent the last 19 minutes trying to find William Hung on Twitter. Yes. That's where I am in life. There.

RT @muchl8r: Not awake. Driving to work. Must be like those flying dreams. Admitedly though, i always fall in those. . .//Be careful!

@Helenatrandom Yeeeaahhh...I bet you have a few emails.

@Helenatrandom Are you back?

Just to tell you, I'm in a FOUL MOOD! And I will be ranting incessantly about it on my blog tomorrow. Grrrrr!

RT @unmarketing: There are people in this world that deserve your emotions, and those that don't. Choose the former to focus on. //YESH!

@marni71 Where else? SCL

Those who can, do. Those who cannot leave snarky , unconstructive anonymous comments of other people's blogs.

@marni71 Oh, dang...Sorry to hear that. (In reply to: @katdish No...it's chili-bowl-ish. With curls. Gettin' the visual?)

@marni71 I keep forgetting how thick your hair is. So is it Rosanne Rosana Danna-ish?

@PeterPollock Expect an email blast shortly...

Okay people! I SERIOUSLY NEED TO GET TO WORK! Stop distracting me!

@RachelleGardner Except maybe the virtues of store bought cakes or brownies in a cup.

@RachelleGardner Oooo! It's on like donkey kong! But I REALLY hope we never have anything to argue about. (In response to: @katdish Do you get feisty when someone argues with you? Cuz I'll take you on, girl. Bring it.)

@billycoffey Yes. You are correct. (In response to: @katdish No. Because that's pretty pointless, isn't it?)

@Brian_Russell Brian, I never start anything. People just like to pick on me...(sheepish look)

@gyoung9751 You agree with Mr. Coffey? Hmph!

@billycoffey Are you arguing with me? (In response to: @katdish Experience has taught me otherwise.)

RT @br8kthru: @katdish womenfolk: your arms are just as capable of taking out the trash- do it once in a while. :)//Oooo! I'm telling!

Menfolk: The uterus is not a homing device. Find your own car keys.

But before I go...a public service announcement:

Okay. Gotta get off the twitter. Got some work to do.

RT @simonleung: "I've been hanging around Chinese people so much lately... I forgot I'm Vietnamese!" - Aimee Vo (@aimeevo)

Oh, shameless self promotion, how I love thee...

RT @ProfessionalOne: There are over 200,000,000 Blogs//But not nearly as many worth reading. Mine, for instance... http://bit.ly/XrQsB

@katdish Or to the Walmarts.

@RachelleGardner I wonder that every time I go to the book store.

RT @RachelleGardner: evr get frustrated trying 2 get a book deal, & then wonder y so many BAD books get published? http://bit.ly/qUxy0

Great interview: @TheBonnieGray interviews @billycoffey. No, really...it's very good. Would I lie to you?

RT @redclaydiaries: New blog post, inspired by @katdish. I'm sorry/You're welcome. http://bit.ly/9qR2R

@shrinkingcamel There's no "I" in TEAM, but there is ME.

RT @tylerstanton: Don't sweat the petty things, and don't pet the sweaty things. #wisdompearls

Okay peeps! Gotta get some shut eye. 6AM comes pretty early. Sometimes as early as 6AM. G'night!

I realize that @redclaydiaries is probably asleep, but I needed to share this with her: http://bit.ly/HpaYx

@becca_homefront Well, just between you and me - she's a bit gassy.

That's one strange kid. Must take after her father...

8yo daughter informed me she did not have chocolate milk at school because she is 1/2 lactose intolerant. What does that even mean?

@WinLiannefield What are struggles in life if not blog fodder?

Could the BE anymore paperwork to fill out for my kid's school? Not that I'm complaining. But I totally am...

Fixing what's broken by @billycoffey (There - HAPPY now?) http://bit.ly/STZlg

@billycoffey What's that?....Mmm, hmm. Thought so...

@billycoffey Maybe I'm working on something for someone else. And maybe I'll just stop doing that. How's that work for ya? (In response to: I have to post on @katdish's blog because she won't get off Twitter. Fixing what's broken: http://bit.ly/STZlg)

@katdish Oooo! Heading over there...beware the wrath of @katdish cowardly Anonymous!

RT @prodigaljohn: A hateful blog comment with no name deserves a response with no words. (Or a "badger gram" but badgers are hard to mail)

RT @annalisa2: “Don’t write down to your readers. The ones dumber than you can’t read.”//BA HA HA! Good one.

@br8kthru You're welcome. Now go read my blog...

Just had 2 Ginkgo Bilobas with a low carb monster chaser. Bring it, Foo!

@redclaydiaries Yes. Perhaps the George Costanza approach to life is fitting...

@JeanneDamoff I would think you would be a literary agent's dream come true.

@marni71 Let me put it this way - if they had a debate team in the 3rd grade, my daughter would be president of it.

RT @unmarketing: Hey you, ya the one that just tagged me in a Facebook note just so I'd read it. You're a jackass.//Ah, honesty! Refreshing.

How not to suck as a Leader by @shrinkingcamel (who sucks at linking his blog posts) http://bit.ly/17oxf3

RT @shrinkingcamel: The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist. //HA! Brilliant!

@HerbieGookins This much I know is true...(In reply to: @katdish My dorkiness knows no bounds.)

@HerbieGookins You are so cool in your dorkiness.

@BridgetChumbley Barely. I boxed up all her Barbies in a fit of rage. But she's okay with it.

RT @marni71: @br8kthru don't listen to the haters...not everyone can rawk the sweater vests.//And stripes to boot!

RT @br8kthru: @PeterPollock you better zip it, Peter! You're just jealous of my nerdy machismo //Just tell me you're not wearing plaid pants

@br8kthru Alaskan beer in Texas chili? Dunno about that...

@pwilson Man card violation pending...(In response to: Stopping for a green tea frappucino on my way back to the 6pm @crosspoint_tv. It's my latest addiction.)

Gotta go buy some beer. No - for chili.

@shrinkingcamel Now you're talking...2:47 PM Aug 23rd from TweetDeck in reply to shrinkingcamel (In response to: OMGhost! I will hunt down wireless in this God-forsaken beach town. //Or, I will steal my wife's precious i-phone)

@shrinkingcamel You're posting for me this week! How are you going to respond to your adoring fans? (In response to: The only prob- no - internet - access --- HE-L-P --- M-EE (gasp)

RT @jewda4: R dog freaks out whenever I make an elephant noise. Only a long car trip could provide such valuable & entertaining information.

Typically have 10 to 12 kiddos at church. Today 26. At a church plant, there's only so much planning you can do. God brings who he brings.

Son starts junior high tomorrow. Who me? Nervous? Um, yes.

@Brian_Russell Rock, indeed.

I'm sass talking @weightwhat via direct messaging! Mwha ha ha!

My daugther's room is an unmitigated disaster from her slumber party last night. I mean IT. IS. BAD

RT @AlexGoodall: Pokemon, n. A Rastafarian proctologist. //Okay, that's just funny right there

@prodigaljohn HEY! The snuggie is my signature giveaway! Oh...whatever!

@billycoffey Ooo! Market a cologne called "new book". Like "the beach" from Kramer.

@muchl8r Aren't you following Gangsta Steph?

@redclaydiaries And you're an authority on gangstas?

@MichaelHyatt Or the estrogen... (In response to: The Woman of Faith conference has just begun. You can't imagine the energy in this room!)

@muchl8r Fo shizzle.

@muchl8r Vato to you to. What's Vato?

And yes, I know it's Saturday. But you're not the boss of me.

#ff @muchl8r because he embraces his grumpiness. It works for him.

#ff Follow @asilannax Because she ate a cupcake with a Q-tip.

#ff @shrinkingcamel because he's really not a camel.

@asilannax You ate a cupcake with a Q-tip? Okay, that's just weird...

RT @asilannax: I 8 a cupcake w/ a Q-Tip. y? b/c I'm cute & quirky, that's y! Actual reason: I might B slightly mentally disturbed.

Follow Friday: @chrissulli Because he really needs to step up his twitter game.

As always - Sorry/You're welcome.

Pardon me while I rant incessantly (Dear Anonymous)

I need to apologize right off the bat for this post because frankly, I'm pissed off. If you have been reading this blog for awhile, I don't need to tell you how I feel about snarky anonymous commenters. Frankly, I think they're cowards. Leaving a snarky anonymous comment is akin to leaving a burning bag of dog crap on someone's front door, ringing the doorbell and running away to hide and snicker behind the bushes while you watch your unsuspecting victim stomp all over the crap you left.

I know I have a fair amount of readers who found their way over here from other blogs and from Twitter. But the vast majority of my readers are readers and fellow commenters on Jon Acuff's site Stuff Christians Like.

I consider Jon a friend. He has been incredibly generous to his readers and has helped build an online community that is worldwide. Jon Acuff is the reason I started blogging in the first place. (Please don't send him hate mail, I think he's had a hard week already). A few months ago, Jon scored a book deal based on his blog, and it seems that ever since then (or maybe it's just me), the anonymous comments have gone from bad to worse. I've seen some doosies on there, but yesterday's comment section just left me speechless. (No small feat, I can assure you.)

But rather than addressing this (word that rhymes with koosh tag) on Jon's site, I thought I would address it here instead of drawing more attention to their comment. Because, let's face it - isn't what these gutless wonders are looking for anyway? Attention? I could tell you what the post was about, but that's really not the point. If you want to read it, feel free to do so - it's really good. The following was not the only nasty comment he got, and I suspect the other one might be from the same author, but here's the one that set me off:

Anonymous said...

I bet there are other things on your list Jonathan that you wouldn't dare confess. Come on . Ecstasy is your big confession? Please. Enough of this false humility and empty confessions. The REAL power is when we admit how depraved we Christians actually are. Jonathan I am tired of your meaningless masturbatory banter. Yes we think you are a good writer. Is that what you are looking for? I think you should rename your blog THINGS CHRISTIANS HATE because it is becoming something I really hate. Stop preaching on facebook please.

August 26, 2009 10:33 AM

REALLY ANONYMOUS? Who peed in your corn flakes yesterday morning? And incidentally, if you hate SCL so much, then why not just stop reading it? At least have the common decency to write the man a private email instead of spewing your gutless diatribe for all the world to see. Oh, but wait...that would mean you would actually have to have an ounce of courage in you, which clearly - you do not.

UP YOURS, ANONYMOUS!

And yes, I realize that by writing this post I'm stooping to their level, but at least you know from whom these words are coming from. Besides, that's just how I roll sometimes...

End of rant...carry on.

27 Things to Do Before You Die (by Bradley J. Moore)

Corporate executive Bradley J. Moore, aka @shrinkingcamel is today's guest blogger. Here's a bit from his "official" bio:

Business executive Bradley J. Moore writes with raw honesty and biting humor about the challenges of connecting spiritual Christian life with career and family life. His writing is featured at several online magazines including HighCalling, InsideWork, SalesGravy and BlogCritics. He has also been featured in the prestigious business magazine, The Conference Board Review.

Okay...whatever. I just think he's a hoot! I'm not quite sure how he found my blog, but he was kind enough to do a write up of me on The High Calling Blogs back in June of this year, so I totally owed him a solid. I'm not sure this constitutes that, but here's Brad:

From time to time I will indulge myself in the tacky genre of self-help-leadership-development books. Usually I skim through the pages quickly to see if I can find one or two ideas of substance that might come in handy later on, perhaps some catchy quote I can rip off to make me sound smart and sophisticated at an upcoming business conference cocktail reception. I’ve discovered that if you want to appear smart in business, you really only have to be about five minutes ahead of everyone else with any given category of information. And since most people do not like to read, this is not so hard.

Recently I was paging through one of these books, and I came across an exercise under an inconspicuous little heading that said, "27 Thing to Do Before You Die." This struck me as irresistibly intriguing, even though it was really just more of your standard-fare motivational crap. But this particular author appeared to be a bit more ambitious than most. Usually you will hear your friends and relatives talk about the one or two things they want to do before they die. Not three. Not five, not even ten. But this book was asking for twenty seven. Isn’t that being greedy?

This exercise was way too tempting to pass up, especially given my recent bouts with a mid-life existential crisis. "This will be fun AND fulfilling!" I told myself. So off I went to my writing corner, busily scrawling out a list of what would surely become a multitude of interesting and exciting dreams that were so reflective of my dynamic and magnetic personality.

Numbers one through five were easy. They were all the things I complain about anyway that I am either currently working on, or those nagging ideas that for some reason I have never managed to get around to. Like, getting a book published, for instance. Which should only be a matter of time, since my Blog has so handily dominated the "Business-Inspirational-Memoir-Humorist" genre that is so popular with publishers these days. And also there is the simple pleasure of taking my wife to an opera production at the Met. That is simply a matter of purchasing the tickets and saving the date. No big deal. Or, how about becoming a CEO? I’ve managed to make it to the senior officer/executive post for several years, but have not yet taken the Chief role (Oh, but just you wait!). Then there are all those European travel plans with the family that keep falling by the wayside. I’m just waiting for value of the dollar to rise against the Euro, I keep telling my wife.

Six through ten were not so hard either, especially after I gave myself permission to just let go and dream big, even if I didn’t think it was really ever possible. The Family Lodge in the Adirondacks? Check. The enviable art collection? Check. The ocean-side vacation home? Absolutely. And yes, I WILL speak fluent German before I die. How hard could that be, if I just put my mind to it?

The ideas stopped flowing so freely after #11, so I decided to enlist my wife in the exercise. Not that she would be able to tell me what I wanted to do before I die (although she does seem to know me better than I know myself sometimes), but maybe hearing her own views on the subject would further stimulate mine. So, we turned on some opera music, poured a couple glasses of Merlot and started cooking Chicken Cacciatore. That always seems to get the juices flowing.

As we traded dreams and ideas, I sheepishly began to notice how materialistic and ego-driven many of the previous items on my death-to-do list were. Humbled and repentant, I began to focus on generating more meaningful, spiritual priorities - opportunities where I could give back, which of course should have been at the top of the list to begin with. I may not be the most spiritually pure Christian, but at least I am honest (in other words, I still did not change the order of my list). Maybe it’s the Merlot talking, but here comes the week-long spiritual retreat at the monastery at number thirteen. I have a friend who does this regularly and I always find myself jealous (spiritual jealousy- is that a sin?). Next, I thought about the many missions and service trips that I have conveniently avoided for all these years, fervently sending on my daughters as proxy. Next time, it will be me.

There. That felt better.

By the time I reached number seventeen, I was so spiritually pumped up that I found myself creating the very admirable but pathetically generic goal of "Inspiring people to live better lives." (But I really do mean it.)

Number 18 was "Get a cat." I am currently prevented from fulfilling that particular dream because my wife and daughter are allergic. If I’m the one dying, then I should get my cat.

That’s all I’ve come up with so far. Eighteen. I have nine more to go. And I don’t want to flake out by just adding new countries to the list of destinations I’d like to travel to.

I didn’t think this exercise would be so challenging. What does that say about me? Maybe I’m just too comfortable with where I’m at right now. Perhaps I don’t have enough vision. Or, maybe this was just another tacky and ridiculous motivational exercise meant to sell a book that tells us we are capable of far more than we will ever be able to realistically achieve in life.

In any case, the Chicken Cacciatore we made that night was delicious.

Check out more of Brad's in depth spiritual and and corporate musings over at Shrinking the Camel, including such deep, thought provoking topics as How not to Suck as a Leader.

How to write a letter that gets you noticed (but not necessarily in a good way)

My brain is fried. There. I said it. I was actually going to do another Duma Key post, but I'm not feeling it. So instead, I thought I would do what I usually do when I'm scrambling for an idea - Post something stupid.

"Letters from a Nut" is just that. It is a collection of letters that were actually written and mailed to an assortment of companies, individuals and heads of state. It is rumored that Ted L. Nancy is actually Jerry Seinfeld, but this has never been proven in a court of law. Without further adieu, the following is one such letter and the corresponding reply:


January, 13, 1996

Dear University of Texas,

I was told to write to you about confirming my Feb 21, 1996 speaking engagement at your college. Let me introduce myself. I am an 8 feet 3 inches tall and perform as Topps the Slender Giant. I have been with the circus for half a century. I talk at schools and conventions (limited to these two only) about my circus experiences. (Will not talk about the kitchen incident). I performed for over eight years as Topps the Shoeless Giant. Two years as Topps the Heavy Giant. One year as Topps the Stumbling Giant. I will talk about that. I was with European, Bahamian, and Canadian circuses. I have performed before the King of Tonga, His Majesty King Taufa'Ahu Tupou IV. And I have Palace stationary. Some people call me a Lou Rawls look alike.

I speak against the perils of bad living; Navy living. Cigar shop living. I am open about all my experiences. I hold nothing back. In this talk you hear a frank and candid account of the circus and carnival life, as sick as it is. I think I am an education for students and teachers, and all alike. It is a 90 minute talk followed by questions on what it was like to be a circus performer, a giant, very thin, very heavy, a marijuana addict, conjugal visits, an alcoholic (Schnapps), and a telemarketer. The talk is very entertaining, sprinkled with colorful recollections. There are no expletives! I do make one (1) foul gesture, but only as part of a story.

Please write and let me know if the Feb 21 date is confirmed, as I was told. I also need to know about publicity. Thanks you very much. My mailing address is 560 No. Moorpark Rd. #236, Thousand Oaks, CA 91360

Respectfully

Ted L. Nancy
Topps the Slender Giant

--------------------------------------

Public Relations
UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS SAN ANTONIO
6900 North Loop, 1604 West
San Antonio, TX 78247


The University of Texas San Antonio

January 22, 1996

Ted L. Nancy
560 No. Moorpark Rd. #236
Thousand Oaks, CA 91360

Dear Mr. Nancy:

I am writing in response to the letter I received from you on January 19, 1996, which requested confirmation for a performance by Tops the Slender Giant on the UTSA campus on February 21, 1996. The Student Activities Office of UTSA never contracted for this program, and does not confirm the engagement at our University.

If you have any further questions, please feel free to contact me at (210) 555-4160.

Thank you,


Brenda Bellamy
Programs Coordinator

-----------------------------------------------

So there you have it. Who says this blog isn't educational?
Sorry/You're Welcome.

And speaking of educational (gotta love a good segue), my new blogger buddy Bonnie Gray is posting a really great interview with Billy Coffey today over at Faith Barista. She's quite the interviewer, and Billy is quite the interviewee. You should check it out. But just to tell you, that woman REALLY likes coffee!

Fixing what's broken (by Billy Coffey)

“Dad, can you fix this?”

My son holds out his favorite toy, a super-duper Buzz Lightyear action figure complete with spring-loaded missile and nine (count them, nine) preprogrammed phrases. He strategically places himself between me and the baseball game on television, brazenly demanding immediate attention. I am normally left alone during Yankee games. Not because I require it—I do not—but because I tend to get a tad…involved.

“What’s wrong with it, bud?” I ask, keeping one eye on him and the other on the thing of beauty that is Robinson Cano’s swing.

“Dunno,” he answers. He turns his Buzz around, flips a switch and turns a knob, and shrugs.

Both eyes are on him now. My son is confused and dejected. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with his toy. All he knows is that it’s not what it’s supposed to be.

“Sure I can fix it,” I answer him. “No problem.”

And it isn’t a problem. I know what’s wrong with is toy. And I can make it what it’s supposed to be, too. All I need is a screwdriver, some batteries, and a little time.

He takes a seat beside me on the couch and fidgets. I think it’s because the Yankees have just stranded two runners on base, but I’m wrong. No, he just wants to play. Not iin a few minutes or a little while. Now.

“Hurry up, Daddy,” he says.

“Hang on,” I answer, prying the cover off the battery compartment.

More fidgeting. Then, “Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

I raise my head and offer a look that is half question and half amusement.

“Why’s that?” I asked him.

“Because you’re taking too long. If you knew how to fix it, you’d hurry up.” He sighs and adds, “I’d be playing by now.”

“Just wait and see,” I tell him. “I’ll have it fixed in a minute.”

But my son can’t wait and so doesn’t see. “Never mind,” he says. “I’ll just go fix it myself.” He grabs the Buzz Lightyear from my hand and trudges off to his room carrying it upside down by the right foot.

I shake my head in a fatherly way. Kids are so impatient nowadays, I think to myself. I know what he’ll do. He’ll go back to his room and play with his Buzz Lightyear for a while, substituting the real sounds of laser blasts and Tim Allen’s voice with his own paltry imitations. He’ll flip switches and turn knobs and pretend everything’s working just fine, but it won’t last long. He won’t have the patience for that, either.

I know this because as my son, he carries around inside of himself bits and pieces of me. He has my smile, my eyes, my skin. And there are the deeper things too, like a common desire to put people at ease and a constant craving for ice cream.

And also to be impatient. With everything.

“Father,” I often say to God, “can you fix this? Fix this problem or this situation. Fix this life. I don’t know what’s wrong with it, I just know it’s broken.”

“Sure I can fix it,” God answers. “No problem.”

And it isn’t a problem. God knows what’s wrong. And more, He can fix it. All he needs is a little grace, a little mercy, and a little time.

So I’ll sit beside Him for a while and watch. But then I start to fidget.

“Hurry,” I say.

“Hang on,” He answers.

I fidget more. Time passes, and I begin to wonder if He really knows what He’s doing. If He did, I’d be better by now. I tell him so.

“Wait and see,” He says.

But I can’t wait. And because I can’t wait, I don’t see.

“I’ll just fix it myself,” I finally say. I take my problem back and trudge off, pretending that everything is just fine.

That’s how it is with my son and me. And with me and God, too. But I know this: my son will be back. Imagination can carry one only so far. Pretending is great, but it’s no substitute for the real thing. He’ll realize that fixing what’s broken is worth the wait. Especially when he knows he can’t fix it on his own.

And it’s for those very reasons that God knows I’ll be back, too.


To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at What I Learned Today and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

Also, for you writerly types in search of an agent, check out this article by Billy on Guide to Literary Agents: How I got my agent.

Rescue

Happy Sunday everyone! We've been singing this song for the past little while at C3's worship gatherings. I really love it, and I wanted to share it with you. Hope it blesses you as it has me.



You are the source of the life
I can’t be left behind
No one else will do
I will take hold of You

I need You Jesus
To come to my rescue
Where else can I go
There’s no other name by
Which I am saved
Capture me with grace
I will follow You

This world has nothing for me
I will follow You
This world has nothing for me
I will follow You

I love you, O LORD, my strength.
The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;
my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.
He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

-Psalm 18:1-2

These Small Hours (Repost - sort of)

I posted this video back in May of this year. I loved the song then and I still do. Life is full of peaks and valleys for all of us, but God never intended for us to struggle through by ourselves. For that I am so very grateful. If you're in a valley right now, hang in there.

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. - Jeremiah 29:11 (KJV)

I get overwhelmed by life sometimes; by all the "things to do" that never seem to all get done, the day to day grind, trying to live up to a standard I will never achieve. And while I am incredibly, inexplicably fortunate in so many ways, still there are disappointments; things that "could have been" that never will be. But I am beginning to truly understand that life is more about the moments, the small hours. And when I'm feeling sorry for myself, I remember all the small hours, where my heart resides.



Little Wonders
Let it go,
Let it roll right off your shoulder
Don't you know
The hardest part is over
Let it in,
Let your clarity define you
In the end
We will only just remember how it feels

Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain

Let it slide,
Let your troubles fall behind you
Let it shine
Until you feel it all around you
And i don't mind
If it's me you need to turn to
We'll get by,
It's the heart that really matters in the end

Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain

All of my regret
Will wash away some how
But i can not forget
The way i feel right now

In these small hours
These little wonders
These twists & turns of fate
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away but these small hours
These small hours, still remain,
Still remain
These little wonders
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away
But these small hours
These little wonders still remain



Indeed...

Bon Qui Qui, private emails, and thinly veiled threats of violence

I jumped in a conversation this week between @JeanneDamoff and @redclaydiaries about Bon Qui Qui, who I think is hilarious. But it occurred to me that some of you might not know who Bon Qui Qui is. Hence the above video. It's a wonder I was even on the twitter at all this week considering the barrage of multiple recepient emails flying back and forth, but I managed quite a few tweets somehow. Many of these tweets will reference one such email, so they will only make sense to those people on the email list. But as I've said in the past, this post is primarily for my own enjoyment. Because as you know, I crack myself up. So there you go...

The best (or not) of me on the twitter this week:

@RachelleGardner Shhhhh!!!!! She can read you know! Besides, she won. White cake, orange frosting.

My daughter wants to bake a cake. My attempts to convince her of the superiority of store bought cakes have failed.

THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!!!!!

RT @marni71: @katdish @weightwhat @HerbieGookins @ redclaydiaries. Sherri just emailed us. She said Big Al is bored stiff. TWSS.

So, how do the google ads in the sidebar work? How is it that there's an ad that says "Don't eat me piggy t-shirts?"

@HerbieGookins If you get Mike Rowe to come to your house, you'd better find some room for me, too...

Sherri spreads lies and half-truths about her friends for all the world to see: http://bit.ly/soiCf

@lizzyarmentrout of course I have. I'm the administrator of it. One blog many contributors. Like a Mensa think tank, okay nothing like that.

Do you read the smartypants blog? It's influence must be growing.

@Brian_Russell Sigh...that made me laugh.

RT @Brian_Russell: You know you're grumpy when you get angry at your flagrant use of "yah" instead of "yeah" in an IM conversation.

@redclaydiaries FLYIING PIGS! FLYING PIGS EVERYWHERE!

Whoa...I just got Rick rolled by @weightwhat 's blog.

Okay, sheesh! Gotta lay down some wisdom in the comments section. Who wrote a post today?

@PrairieLady Oh, I've scared him off for now. Which is good. He's got work to do.

@billycoffey Run, but you can't hide...

RT @weightwhat: @billycoffey Are you sure @katdish isn't omnipresent? //I knew you were going to say that...

@marni71 @billycoffey. uh-huh...I see how you are. Can you endure the wrath of @katdish?

@billycoffey I think one half samuri trumps one quarter Cherokee. Just saying.

@billycoffey don't you get sassy with me young man! I'll go samuri on you!

@billycoffey i'm at the dentist's office. I can't keep up. What the heck are y'all talking about? Gaaa!

@redclaydiaries Get your mind out of the gutter. And yes, that email conversation was delightful, no?

@marni71 Well dang. Now I'm hungry, and I don't have any bananas or nuts....

@redclaydiaries You should have a Big Al smoothie.

@CandySteele She'll never see your tweet. She can't even figure out how to get on the twitter!

Everyone please follow @gabbysherri It may take awhile before she refollows, because she forgot her user name.

@buzzbyannies I wonder how many typos she could make in 140 characters or less.

@CandySteele @buzzbyannies We might just get Sherri on the twitter after all...

@buzzbyannies Hmm....I dunno I think it might be Al right to mention it.

@buzzbyannies @CandySteele Good Morning! What's for breakfast? (Snort!)

@weightwhat Platonic bathing incident...

@marni71 @weightwhat Go check the email...

@PeterPollock I ALWAYS go there...

@tremendousnews So basically, what you're saying is that you have hair where monkeys don't?

RT @br8kthru: @katdish besides if anyone knows disturbing, it's me.//Yeah, you're all up in disturbing...

@br8kthru Judge not, lest you be judged.

RT @godhasablog: @katdish Jiminy Cripple? //BA! HA! HA!

@br8kthru Ahhh, that's the beauty of twitter. Sometimes it makes no sense at all.

@marni71 We should market our butt fat to skinny lipped celebrities.

Dear @godhasablog - what DO you call a grasshopper with one leg?

@marni71 I figured people would be googling your lips. Who did them anyway?

@marni71 Did you notice that someone is googling your sunglasses?

@godhasablog thanks be to you for leaving a comment on my blog. Ask and ye shall receive...

@RachelleGardner Congrats! You now represent at least 2 potential best selling novelists.

This cat is pushing a watermelon out of a lake. Your argument is invalid: http://bit.ly/14PR5m

Okay, people! My kids need haircuts. Be back later to enhance all your lives thru the power of social media.

@PuriChristos Okay, Nick. Let me finish writing my smartypants opus first. Gotta go!

@indymavs You're welcome. Now don't unfollow me or I will publicly berate you via the twitter.

@CandySteele I'm channeling Sherri through my recipe emails.

50. RT @br8kthru: @katdish I told her, Jesus took away my shame. // You have the spiritual gift of sarcasm. I dig that

RT @redclaydiaries: @br8kthru @katdish @weightwhat OH DEAR GOD. WHAT HAVE U DONE TO PETER?! HAVE YOU NO SHAME? //Of course we don't.

@oliveshoot You can't just tweet "poop in my dryer" and then leave it at that. We need follow up.

@marni71 So you just jump on the twitter and announce your dinner? I'm fine, thank you.

@BridgetChumbley I'm not sure where @billycoffey is. Probably hunting garbage can bears.

@br8kthru @weightwhat Again...NOT MY FAULT.

Can I be honest? I have absolutely no interest in the comings and goings of Lady Ga Ga.

RT @shrinkingcamel: @katdish Oh boy, here we go. Where's the spanking machine at? //Snort!

@shrinkingcamel You're still following me, aren't you Bradley?

@br8kthru Why do I suddenly have the urge to watch The Muppet Show?

RT @br8kthru: @peterpollock Beauty has a new name: Peterlyn Monroe (please don't hate me) http://yfrog.com/07udij //That ain't right!

RT @br8kthru: @PeterPollock @katdish @jeanneDamoff okay give me a minute and we'll be ready to roll... (warning: it has bosoms)

@PeterPollock @br8kthru @JeanneDamoff I'm giddy with anticipation...

RT @br8kthru: @JeanneDamoff and the enough-knowledge-of-photoshop-to-morph-a-picture set

@PeterPollock Mwha-ha-ha!

@PeterPollock Since when do I have any power? I am but a meek and lowly homemaker.

@PeterPollock @br8kthru I would just like to go on the record as saying this was not my fault. That is all. Carry on.

@joannesher What's another word for synonym?

@PeterPollock I just got a VERY BAD VISUAL of you Peter!

@JeanneDamoff You're so eloquent in your sarcasm...

@JeanneDamoff Scurvy is really not an area of expertise for @redclaydiaries. She is, however, an expert on multiple laundry baskets.

@redclaydiaries Scurvy? In response to what?

@katdish Not that I care...(sniff, sniff)

@redclaydiaries I can't believe I missed a conversation with @godhasablog Who, BTW has not commented on my blog for some time now.

@JeanneDamoff Ahhh...sometimes I just can't help myself. Okay, most of the time.

@JeanneDamoff He's better than a multi-vitaman? Yes, reading @billycoffey doesn't make your pee stink

@JeanneDamoff Yay! I saw your comment on FB via email yesterday, but then I got distra....Oooo! Shiny

Time to cut and paste a blog post...

Time to go write a blog post. Oh, wait...tomorrow's Monday. @billycoffey wrote a blog post.

@Brian_Russell Yeah, yeah...everyone's a critic.

Or should I say Leonardo Da Vinci?

Lee-da-nardo Da Finka (This is how my daughter pronouces Leonardo Da Vanci.

@CandySteele Perhaps you misplaced them in the corn.

I am being sass talked via direct messaging.8:34 PM Aug 16th from TweetDeck

I will now go attempt to lull them to sleep with a lullaby. If that fails, I'll threaten to take away all electronic media.

My kids start school in a week. They both slept until 11:00 am on Saturday morning. Me thinks we need to set a new bed time.

@CandySteele Nah, I lived in Charlotte, NC. Race tracks don't scare me. Mostly John Cougar Mellencamp.

@CandySteele Don't threaten me with corn, Candy. @HerbieGookins has tried to scare me with Indiana. I will not be silenced!

@marni71 Do you think Iowa can handle the both of us? Texas, yes. The other states? Not so sure...

@marni71 I find it amusing that @MattTCoNP is pimping his blog via the twitter. You know, the thing he swore he'd never be on?

Yet another interview with @billycoffey. That guy is EVERYWHERE! http://bit.ly/JC7wC

They say the eyes are the windows to a person's soul. I say their DM's are...

Because mastering the game of corn hole isn't enough for @pwilson: http://bit.ly/nYEtg

If you want a refollow, then tweet something interesting. I don't even have to agree with you.

@emptynestegg There's a fine line between appealing and appalling, no?

Why do people keep following me, then unfollowing me, then following me again? Make up your mind already!

@arlenesg And can someone really get too big for their bitches?

@arlenesg Um...was that a typo in that last tweet? Read it again. (snort)

So...I'm looking thru some of @prodigaljohn 's posts , and someone referred to @purichristos (Nick the Geek) as Nick the Nerd (BA HA HA!)

RT @br8kthru: @weightwhat it's just misunderstood that's all. It wants to know what love is. It wants you to show it...

RT @pwilson: @katdish I can't believe you doubt me. I'll show you.//You don't need to play well - look at Alanis Morrisette. She's awful

By a show of hands, how many people think @pwilson will actually learn to play the harmonica?

Where are the men folk? I feel the need to make someone uncomfortable.

@weightwhat That br8kdish was the creepiest thing I've ever seen. Who knew 2 such fabulous looking people could look so bad?

@Helenatrandom You're not dissing Agatha Christie are you? Ah will cut you...

@redclaydiaries Yes, and then wrap your body in the snuggie.

@JeanneDamoff For the record, I was NOT threatening to cut Steph, just whoever was lurking. She was my ride.

@JeanneDamoff Did Steph write a post? Look! Flying pigs!

@redclaydiaries Ah am not tryin tah fight you. There wount be no fight. Ain't that right Da-wayne?

@redclaydiaries Ah will still cut you... @BonQuiQui #madeuptwitternames

@buzzbyannies That's not crap...uh, well...What-ev!

@buzzbyannies Sorry. You know I'm anti-crap.

#FF Follow @billycoffey so you can say you followed him before he was famous.


As always...Sorry/You're welcome!

Socialnomics

I've had an ongoing conversation with a good friend of mine about the benefits of blogs, Facebook, Twitter and other forms of social media. Not surprisingly, I am a proponent of most forms of social media. Love it or hate it, it is my belief that electronic media will continue to be the leading source for news and information sharing for the foreseeable future. And while there are aspects of this phenomenon that are downright annoying, as it stands, the potential benefits far outweigh the drawbacks.

I started following @unmarketing (aka Scott Stratten, President of Un-Marketing.com) on Twitter after reading an RT from someone else I was following, and while I'm not easily impressed with so called "social media gurus" I will have to say unequivocally that this guy is, in my not so humble opinion, is a genius.

Here's a bit of his bio from his website, Un-Marketing:

Scott Stratten is the President of Un-Marketing.com. He is an expert in Viral, Social, and Authentic Marketing which he calls Un-Marketing. It’s all about positioning yourself as a trusted expert in front of target market, so when they have the need, they choose you, That’s UN-Marketing.

Over 35,000 people follow his daily rantings on Twitter and was voted one of the top influencers on the site with over 20 million users . His recent Tweet-a-thon raised over $16,000 for child hunger, in less than 12 hours.

He recently tweeted a link to his blog where I first viewed this video. I think it speaks for itself.


What do you think?

(I realize this video is on the small side. To view it full size, check it out HERE.

The Things we do for Love (by Jeanne Damoff)

Today's post comes from my new friend Jeanne Damoff. Just in case you missed my post from last Thursday, you might want to check it out. It gives a glimpse into who this lovely woman is and why I asked her to guest blog for me: The Picture inside the Picture. And now, here's Jeanne:

This is my first-ever guest post for the lovely and talented katdish, and--even though she pooh-poohs the significance of such an endeavor--I’m slightly intimidated. So here I sit, wondering if that was a good first sentence and contemplating what else to write, when suddenly I’m transported back to 1964.



I’m standing behind a closed curtain on the auditorium stage at William L. Cabell Elementary School in North Dallas. I’m all alone, a tiny waif in a blue dress, white anklets, and Buster Brown oxford shoes. The light is dim and dusty. The curtain is heavy, and it towers far above me. I’m waiting for it to open, and when it does, I’m going to sing. A capella. (I don’t know the term “a capella” yet, but that won’t stop me from singing that way.)

I’m doing this for Miss Carras, our first grade teacher. I’m doing it because I love Miss Carras truly and deeply. You would, too, if you had been riding your bicycle to school, and it started to rain, and your sister and friend took off on their bigger, faster bicycles, leaving you to pedal your tiny, waif-sized bicycle as fast as your tiny waif-like legs could go, all the while watching your companions slowly disappear from sight, and feeling the rain sting your skin and the tears sting your eyes, and then hearing the tardy bell ring when you’re still a block away from the school, and arriving at an empty schoolyard, and seeing your sister’s and friend’s bikes neatly parked at the bike rack, and running through the deserted hallway to your classroom, the pounding of your Buster Browns on linoleum a mere pitter pat compared to your heart as you wonder if you’ll be sent to (insert ominous music) The Principal’s Office, where bad kids go for “licks” (and no, I’m not talking about ice cream), which ranks near the top of your list of worst first-grade fears (you’ve heard the legendary tales of suffering and woe--everyone has), and then finally bursting into the classroom, trying to keep your cool, but catching Miss Carras’ curious eye and dissolving into rain-drenched, late-to-class sobs, because surely she’ll despise you forever and make you bang erasers until eternity or fourth grade, whichever comes sooner, but then . . .

Miss Carras pauses her lesson and scoops you into her lap. She rocks you and asks what happened and dries your tears and, for those few moments while your sobs subside, she doesn’t worry one bit about the twenty other kids who arrived dry and on time. Nor does she call CPS after hearing your story, because this is 1964, long after the invention of kidnappers and perverts, but long before the advent of internet stalkers or Amber Alerts, and frankly, suburbanites don’t worry about that sort of thing.

If Miss Carras tried to call your mom, you never heard about it, possibly because this was also long before answering machines, and Mom wasn’t able to answer the phone due to the intense concentration required to apply false eyelashes, which she had no choice but to wear if her face was going to be enlarged for a billboard that all of Dallas would see as they drove down I-35 S toward town. One cannot expect ordinary eyelashes to suffice when one intends to visually extoll the virtues of a two-storied loaf of Mrs. Baird’s Bread, gently cradled in one’s gigantic manicured hands and held aloft for the viewing pleasure of the Metroplex. No indeed. Which explains why you rode your bicycle about a mile to school. In first grade. In the rain. But, in all fairness, it didn’t start raining till after you were on your way, and your sister had been charged to keep an eye on you, so don’t blame your mom. If you have to blame anyone, blame Mrs. Baird.

That’s why I’m standing on this stage. I don’t know whether to be nervous or excited, but before I can decide, the curtain creaks and groans and then slowly begins to open.

Miss Carras brought our class to the school auditorium today to introduce us to its parts and purposes. We all filed down the long aisle and seated ourselves in the first two rows. The wooden seats are on springs, so you have to hold the seat down and crawl into it before it pops back up. This is no small challenge for miniature waif-like folk, but once we were all seated with our legs sticking straight out in front of us, Miss Carras pointed out the various features of the cavernous room. After talking about the stage and its accessories, she asked, “Would anyone like to go up on the stage and perform for us?”

My hand shot up. I didn’t even pause to think about it. Miss Carras wanted someone to perform on stage, and by golly, this was something I could do for her. She smiled her approval, took my hand, and escorted me up the side stairs and behind the curtain. She pointed to center stage, told me to stand there and wait till the curtain opened, and then she disappeared.

Now that I’m up here and the curtain is opening, it’s all a bit overwhelming. But what else can I do? This is for Miss Carras, after all. At least I know what I’ll sing. That’s a no-brainer. I’ll give them the old classic, “I am a Pretty Little Dutch Girl.” (This is for you, Miss Carras. I’m gonna slay this audience.)

When the curtain creaks to a stop, I gaze out at a vast expanse of seats, all empty except for two rows of first graders and Miss Carras, who is smiling like the sunrise. I smile back at her, open my waif-like mouth, and sing with gusto--even tossing an innocent (bold? brazen?) grin at a classmate named Tommy when the lyrics link him romantically to my pretty little Dutch self.

The song ends. The crowd goes wild. The curtain closes, and I exit stage right, back into the embrace of Miss Carras. Back into my first grade world. Back into a time when motives were pure and love begat simple love with no strings attached.

That’s what I’m thinking as I contemplate this post for katdish. I wonder what I’ll write . . .

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

To find out more about Jeanne Damoff in all her wonderfulness, you can find her at one of these places:

her website
her blog
her photo blog
or on the twitter

The Fellowship of the Traveling Smartypants

The Fellowship of the Traveling Smartypants:
"One blog, many contributors. Kind of like a Mensa think tank...okay nothing like that."

Have you made it over to my other blog? No, not the painting blog. I know no one ever visits there. I mean the smartypants blog, which is less of a blog than it is a very strange chat room with lots of lurkers. If you haven't had a chance to stop by, I would encourage you to do so. As a matter of fact, I'll go so far as to say that if you only read one blog a day...well you probably shouldn't read that one. But still, I think it's pretty amusing.

Besides, I wrote a blog post over there last night about Google Analytics. Very informative, to say the least.

Don't mind all the crap in the sidebar. We like to be "fancy". No, go meet some new people why don't you? Nothing more to see here...

Hearing God (by Billy Coffey)

My children have recently decided to forgo their usual extended Sunday School for the “big people preachin’.” Which was a surprise to me, since both of them have always seemed to enjoy a Sunday morning service that consisted of a Bible story outside, some coloring, and then hitting the playground. I know I would.

But my daughter is not the sweet little girl anymore as much as she is the sweet young lady. Crayons and swing sets just weren’t cutting it when it came to spending the Sabbath with the Almighty. So yesterday when we pulled into the parking lot, she looked at me and said, “I want to sit with you and Mommy today.”

To which my son replied, “Me, too!”

Well. Alrighty then.

We took a quick survey of Big Church decorum (“Be still, be nice, and be quiet,” I said) and strolled into the sanctuary as a family for the first time.

Our church had become newfangled in our worship. In place of actual hymnals with actual pages, two giant screens on either side of the sanctuary flashed the lyrics to our worship songs. Fine for tall people. Not for munchkins. My daughter couldn’t see the ginormous screen because of the ginormous football-playing teenager in front of her.

“Let’s move closer,” she said.

I offered to let her run point, and she proceeded to lead us all the way to the front. Reading the screen would now be akin to sitting in the front row of a movie theater, but this is what you do for your children.

That particular spot also happened to be directly behind the three rows reserved for our congregation’s deaf members. I wasn’t sure who had thought of the idea of providing someone to translate the preacher’s spoken words into sign language, but he or she deserved a lot of praise. All three rows were full, and full every Sunday.

The praise team began their first song. My daughter stood on the chair beside mine, holding onto my arm for dear life and belting out lyrics for all to hear. But me, I didn’t do much singing. Or listening. No, my attention had been placed squarely upon the three rows of churchgoers in front of us.

They were wonderful, those people. Happy and smiling. Far from being outcasts in the service, they were active participants. They still received the pastor’s wisdom. They still sang, only with hands instead of words.

They still praised God.

But they couldn’t hear our praise team. They couldn’t grasp the rhythms of the guitars and keyboard and drums. They couldn’t hear the emotional crack in our pastor’s voice has he recalled a monumental battle of faith he once endured.

They understood, those three rows of people. They knew the facts of the songs and the sermon. But I couldn’t help but think they were missing out on the feeling.

Because that, by and large, is what sound does. It brings feeling.

Like the feeling of peace when the rain taps your roof. Or the feeling of bliss at your children’s laughter. It’s the wonder that comes from hearing a summer thunderstorm or the joy of sleigh bells at Christmas. Those are the little moments of life, the seeds of lasting memory. Ones made neither by sight nor touch, but by sound.

Yet just as I began to mourn for them, I realized other sounds they would never have to hear.

Like the sound of tears being wept. Hate being spewed. Anger being vented.

They may have missed some of the best things in life, but they also missed some of the worst.

Like me.

Because we were not so different in our limitations. I could hear, but that didn’t mean I always listened. Just like I could look but not always see and touch but not always feel. In the end, we are all handicapped in some way. That’s what being human meant.

With the help of an interpreter, I spoke with one of them after the service. Michael, he signed. An amazing guy with an amazing heart for God. Also someone who was, unlike me, quite content with his limitations.

Hearing could wait, he said. And I was wrong, Michael could feel plenty. He could feel the love of God, the closeness of the congregation, and the faith he knew to be true. Hearing, he said, could wait. And I don’t blame him. Because the first thing he will ever hear will be his Father saying, “Welcome home.”


To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at What I Learned Today.

And in case you missed it, Kat Smith over at Heart to Heart posted an interview with Billy yesterday. You can check it out here.

Beth - The Alternate Lyrics

In honor of Beth's birthday, I have chosen a cheesy Kiss song from the 70's with the lyrics changed up just a bit. For the back story on this dedication, you will have to read this blog post and the subsequent comments from Beth's blog That's Not Me Anymore.



Beth, today's your birthday
And I thought you'd like to know
Me and the girls have been prayin'
For a Youtube Snuggie show

It's been several months now
Since I mailed that thing to you
I think you need to post it
Oh, Beth what can I do?
Beth what can I do?

Beth I know you're wanting
To bust a Snuggie covered groove
Tell Frank to begin the filming
And girl show us all your moves

It's been several months now
Since I mailed that thing to you
I think you need to post it
Oh, Beth what can I do?
Beth what can I do?

Beth, I know you want to
And I hope you'll be alright
'Cause me and the gals will be groovin'
All night ...

Happy Birthday Beth! Love you, gal!

Happy Birthday Smurfette!

Hmm...that's a fairly accurate description of my friend Sherri. She's one of my chatty gal pal blogger buddies. She's not blue, but still...

I really don't think I'm the type of person who you can be lukewarm about. You either really like me, or really don't. Poor Sherri! Preacher's daughter and fine upstanding citizen that she is, she really should not like me at all. Especially since I tease her incessantly. But she can't help herself. She freaking loves me, and the feeling is mutual.

Today is Sherri's birthday, so I want you all to hop on over to Matter of Fact and wish my short, unintentional shoplifting friend a very happy day.


This is Sherri and her better half, Big Al (he digs me too, but he doesn't like gerbils).

A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, SHERRI!

(Did you know that you're an entire year older than me?)

This week on the twitter: Family feuds, bacon donuts, and John C. Maxwell riding on Shamu

Despite spending much time away from my computer this week, I still got in a few marathon rounds on the twitter. My friend @helenatrandom was sorely missed this week. It seems her laptop was sent out for repairs. But hopefully, she will be back soon to help me in my quest to enrich lives through the power of social media.

I was able to give some sound (or not) relationship advice via direct messaging, discuss the merits of bacon in baked goods, and perhaps even lay the groundwork for a redneck family feud back in my home state of Virginia. Ahh...life is good.

Without further adieu, the best (or not) of me on the twitter:

@JeanneDamoff Did I miss you on the twitter again? Dang!

@marklamberti The most annoying sound in the world? Do you know my family?

Thank you. Carry on with your bantering...

Okay, seriously. Cannot get sucked into the twitter. I have to write something!

@BridgetChumbley You really should raise your standards...

@SteveGarufi Are you following @billycoffey? He's the real rabid Yankee fan. (Besides you, that is.)

@weightwhat Sigh...I know the feeling. The life of a social media darling is not all champagne and roses

@weightwhat Yesh, I bow to your twitter ho-ness.

@weightwhat Are the air quotes implied when you say "special"?

@lizzyarmentrout I'm never quiet. I'm just being loud elsewhere...

My "mentions" column is completely empty. Does this mean no one is talking about @katdish?

@br8kthru How much creativity does it take to send someone something like that? Be original for crying out loud!

@br8kthru Delete, delete, delete! Facebook bugs me...

RT @PeterPollock: Facebook just asked me if I want to view 151 new posts. Ummm... no thank you!//Exactly!

I've written several childrens books. Not on purpose. - Steven Wright

@marni71 Indeed! (sideways smiley face wink emoticon)

@redclaydiaries Crazy Steve: http://bit.ly/15wZJZ

@redclaydiaries Drake and Josh? Hello?

@redclaydiaries Alternate universe: Crazy Steve is mine.

@becca_homefront Where have you been young lady?!?

@marni71 Spencer or Crazy Steve. Anyway you slice it, I love that guy!

@marni71 I am also watching educational television: iCarley

@redclaydiaries I'd like to see @johncmaxwell riding Shamu as he jumps out of the water. Set that up for me, will ya?

@redclaydiaries YOU LIFT ME UUUUUPPPP!!!!!

@PeterPollock I just figured @michaelhyatt might need a boost from my mighty following.

RT @billycoffey: @katdish Cheater!//I play hardball.

@muchl8r I can't wait to be old and inappropriate. As opposed to middle aged and inappropriate.

@billycoffey Oh you don't scare me....much.

@ @katdish - 1 @billycoffey - 0

RT @emptynestegg: @billycoffey wait are you a Yankee fan???//Do you not know him AT ALL?

@muchl8r So, is she like @helenatrandom? She loves Jesus but she drinks a little?

@emptynestegg That's okay...I know you like me best.

@billycoffey Are you trying to tarnish my family name? Because if you are, you're way too late for that.

@muchl8r Your grandma works at the liquor store?

@emptynestegg All major credit cards accepted. Except Discover. Nobody takes Discover except for Sears

Grandma Lee just beat out a bunch of drag queens on America's Got Talent. Who says there's nothing good on television?

@billycoffey That might be a problem, as many of my relatives have had their drivers license temporarily suspended...

@billycoffey Fine. We'll meet the Coffeys at the Rivah!

@billycoffey The Dishmans are a pretty scary bunch...

@billycoffey I know you live in VA, and I have lots of kinfolk that could track you down...

@beckfromfrogandtoad I had a sewing teacher tell me that I should just give up. Which sucked because she was also my mom.

@marni71 Is @stacyasmallSFL personally responsible for vampire neutering?

@billycoffey Now be nice or I'll get @weightwhat on here.

@billycoffey AHEM! I'm still here...

@Helenatrandom Helen! My sweet Helen! When are you getting your computer back?

@redclaydiaries No refunds. I get 10% of the proceeds.

@redclaydiaries You can't sneak up on me!

@billycoffey Sheesh! Don't sneak up on me like that! Stalker!

@billycoffey (Whistling and looking skyward...) (In response to @billycoffey: was that directed at me?)

HA! Take that 140 character limit

@BridgetChumbley So they don't have to keep checking back to see if there's a new post up.

@BridgetChumbley But as ADD as I tend to be, I think posting at the same time every day helps. Readers know when a new post will be up.

@BridgetChumbley I dunno. I think M-W-F is a good schedule. I have 2 guest posts per week, plus a rerun on Saturday.

@BridgetChumbley More than once what? A week? You should lower your standards. Works for me.

@redclaydiaries It's a must for a social media darling...

@redclaydiaries Kindle e-book app? Where is that? Give us the Precious! We wants it!

Am I the only person that actually schedules their blog post for the same time every day?

@PeterPollock Oh, well that's even worse! What is it with you writer types?

@Power2BThin Okay thanks. But just to tell you, I still like greasy tacos...

@PeterPollock Is this your lazy post linking @michaelhyatt ?

RT @marni71: @katdish Get thee behind me satan!! Er, uh, I mean, yeah, I love Jack in the Box tacos too.

@redclaydiaries No, authentic katdish. Much more valuable.

Dear @power2bthin - why the unfollow? It was the bacon donut comment, huh? Or maybe the greasy tacos?

@marni71 I love Jack in the Box tacos. I like to remove the pesky crispy part and just go for the grease soaked portions.

@redclaydiaries I'm saying he CAIN'T quit me! Many have unfollowed only to return. Begging forgiveness.

@BigBags You're grovin' in you cube? Is that like groovin' with clogs?

RT @redclaydiaries: @PeterPollock Sounds like you need @katdish aversion therapy.//The genie is out of the bottle. It cannot be undone.

Sigh...I miss @helenatrandom...

@weightwhat Cue the creepy twilight zone music!

RT @redclaydiaries: @weightwhat And by the way, you're dead to @katdish. (Is that like being dead to your sins?)/It's exactly like that.

@redclaydiaries Oh wait...there she is. Nevermind.

@redclaydiaries No. I can't see her. She's dead to me.

@redclaydiaries Oh, okay...so if @billycoffey talks to you, that makes you significant? What am I? Bacon donut?

@WinLiannefield Do you know what that bacon muffin needs? Ham sandwich.

@redclaydiaries Give us the Precious. I'm going to be quoting you all day.

@WinLiannefield "A muffin is a bald cupcake." - Jim Gaffigan

The doctor is in.

RT @asilannax: Therapy session with @katdish. She's the greatest. Don't take her away, I'll cut you. Follow her instead.

@PeterPollock "man-sassy"?

@PeterPollock Ooo! Aren't we the sassy one today?

@PeterPollock Oh, Peter. You're just being lazy...

@redclaydiaries For the love of Gumby, why would I have any pictures of Donald Trump?

@redclaydiaries And please, if they go bald, let them not sport a combover.

Puritanism--the haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy. - Henry Louis Mencken

@billycoffey Thanks. I think that would be mantastic!

@redclaydiaries I'm waiting for those folks who might actually have those twitter names to send me angry DMs.

@buzzbyannies I've been around, screaming profanities at my internet service.

@redclaydiaries Oh, (dirty word!) that was even more ridiculous than the snuggie! (But I'm sure it would look good on you.)

@weightwhat I suppose you're right, even though @You'reNotTheBossOfMe #madeuptwitternames

@weightwhat @yesIam #madeuptwitternames

@12itemsorless #madeuptwitternames

@theguywhomakesthedonuts #madeuptwitternames

And a new hashtag is born #madeuptwitternames

@oprahsboyfriendstedman #madeuptwitternames

I totally made up that name...

@weightwhat or perhaps @oprahsfriendgayle if @oprah is busy.

@weightwhat Should I make some calls? Maybe my friend @oprah could help her out.

@BridgetChumbley Thanks. Me too. But it was nice to interface with the non-virtual people.

Interloop - made up word by @katdish. I'm claiming intellectual property on that baby!

@weightwhat Has she been going to the library? I'm so out of the interloop

As always...Sorry/you're welcome.

The picture inside the picture

How to Draw a Picture (Part 9)
(Excerpt from Duma Key by Stephen King)

Look for the picture inside the picture. It's not always easy to see, but it's always there. And if you miss it, you can miss the world.

This is the ninth installment of my adventure into serious writing. It's still not something that I'm completely comfortable with. As a matter of fact, I could never imagine it was anything I would even consider. But to quote one of my favorite lines from the book this series is based upon,

"God always punishes us for the things we can't imagine."

And while the biblical implications of that statement are at odds with what I believe to be the Truth, still - it makes me pause.

When I started this silly little blog in April of 2008, it never dawned on me that I would be so inspired by so many talented, amazing people. Among those near the top of that list would be Jeanne Damoff.

I described Jeanne a couple of weeks ago in the following tweet: "Follow @jeannedamoff. She's like me, only classy."

Okay, so maybe she's not so much like me. She holds degrees in social work, sociology, English, and secondary education. Wife to George, mother to Jacob, Grace and Luke. From her bio: "Jeanne is a published writer, a professional choreographer, a musician, and a speaker. She loves to laugh and gives points to anyone who makes her laugh out loud. These points are very valuable. Everyone should strive to earn them, starting now." (Apparently, I have earned a few points along the road, because she has graciously agreed to guest post for me very soon.) As impressed as I was with her writing thus far, I was completely unprepared for the book she sent me.

When I read the quote from Duma Key that inspires these posts, I knew I had to share a bit of her story. So many of us often miss the picture inside the picture, but if we look for it, there is astounding beauty to be found. Jacob Damoff is a shining example of such beauty. Again, here's Jeanne in her own words:

In May 1996, the world ended. We traded “Happily Ever After” for brokenness and sorrow. My book, Parting the Waters: Finding Beauty in Brokenness , tells the story of Jacob’s drowning accident and our family’s subsequent journey through a valley of lost dreams and into a deeper understanding of God’s sovereignty. As our eyes adjusted to the shadows, the beauty of God’s plan came into focus. A pebble is dropped into a pond. Ripples are set in motion. Ever widening, they accomplish eternal purposes visible to those who choose to see.

I literally have a stack of books four feet high that are waiting patiently to be read. But once I picked up Jeanne's book, I could not put it down. If you've ever struggled to understand why bad things happen to good people and can't seem to find the silver lining in the clouds of life, I would highly recommend this book.

And you know I know a good book when I read one, right?

Baseball Can Save Lives (by Chris Sullivan)

Question:
What would you do if you were raised in Tampa, Florida, played ivy league football at Columbia University and then went on to work as an investment banker in New York City?

Well, if your name was Chris Sullivan, you would conclude that there is more to life than that and opt to passionately pursue the call to service on your life. Chris has moved to Barahona, a poor rural area in the Dominican Republic, and is working with a program called I Love Baseball. The two things that make Chris feel most alive are service and supporting and encouraging others who step out in faith.

Here's a bit of what's going on with Chris and the boys of summer:

For the most part I Love Baseball is working with kids that want to be baseball players. We are trying to address some of the problems that are created by young men dropping out of school and leaving home to pursue their dream of baseball glory. We firmly believe that we can replace the negatives that often come along with the pursuit of this dream with positives that are going to open doors for them and develop godly men who will be leaders who can transform their communities - whether they ever play a day in the big leagues or not. Even though we view baseball as a tool to work with these kids, it is easy to sometimes view baseball as the problem or the culprit. There is certainly plenty of blame to go around for the problems down here, and part of the blame does go to the culture and systems that have developed around baseball in the Dominican. The reality though is that there is massive potential to do good and change lives through baseball, and my favorite I Love Baseball player story really gets to the heart of that.

My favorite story in the I Love Baseball program isn't about a baseball player who discovered there is more to life than just playing baseball. It is the story of a young man with no parents and no plans or dreams of becoming a baseball player. A young man who literally traded our coach his machete for a pair of cleats and a glove. Baseball gave him a purpose and direction. Baseball gave him a family and he has become an amazing young man. I look forward to sharing more of his story with you as I get to know him better. His story reminds us of the redemptive quality of sports. How athletics can be a positive outlet for youths that keeps them off the street and and teaches them about teamwork, sportsmanship, dedication and hard work. We may not forget that side of athletics in the States, where sports has that kind of positive influence on many of our lives, but here in the Dominican, where youth sports is big business and the lessons and associations that go along with them can often be massively negative, it can be easy to look at baseball as the enemy. It isn't.

Baseball can save lives.

To read more from Chris and his experiences with I Love Baseball, visit him at More Than Fine

Pay it Forward (or is it pay it backwards) Repost

Yes, yes! This is a repost. But family time plus crappy internet equals me not feeling very inspired to write something new. Hope you don't mind. Besides, not many folks were reading my blog when I first posted it anyway, so there you go:

For me, there has been a significant mind/heart shift since I've been writing this blog and commenting on other blogs. I find myself constantly re-evaluating how I act and react in day to day situations. It's as if once I've typed something and sent it hurtling into cyberspace, it's there for eternity to remind me when I fail to live up to the views I've expounded upon. I may not be able to remember where they all are, but they are no doubt out there somewhere. Such is the case with a comment I made on JML's blog, Very Much Later. JML (Jake) writes a blog that I'm happy to say, I stumbled upon shortly after I started blogging myself. I love the honesty in his writing. He doesn't sugar coat his perspective on being a Christian, and he's able write about his personal walk without talking in "Christianese". Also, he's got some pretty amusing vomit stories.

This particular post was about witnessing to people. Specifically, what I refer to as the "cold call" witness. My comment pertained to how I've never actually been comfortable approaching total strangers and witnessing to them. Instead, I prefer to get to know a person and let them get to know me. If they seem drawn to this intangible thing that's different about me, that's when I'll share my story with them. This is just what feels right to me -- I'm not judging how others share the gospel of Christ. There is one way I'm comfortable witnessing to strangers. I try to find opportunities to practice random acts of kindness. (It's an old bumper sticker, but I still like it.)

A couple of mornings ago, I had a piece of mail that I wanted mailed that day. Since our mail person doesn't typically come until late afternoon, I dropped it in a public mailbox at the nearest shopping center. My son wanted to come with me and get some breakfast at Jack in the Box. As I was waiting in the drive-thru line, I thought, "I should pay for the person behind me." This was appealing to me on many levels: 1) I would be practicing a random act of kindness, 2) I would be teaching my son a valuable lesson about our motives to do good, and 3) it was a fairly easy way to accomplish 1 and 2.

Except that is wasn't easy. My first clue should have been the fact that I had to repeat my order 3 times. The cashier's English was not great. When I pulled up to the window, she gave me my total. I said, "Okay. But I also want to pay for the person behind me." She smiled and said, "Yes, yes okay." Then proceeded to read my order back to me. At this point, there are several cars behind me, and the intended recipient of my random act of kindness was looking impatient. He also looked like he could be a body double for Paul Sr. on "American Chopper". After two attempts to communicate what I was trying to do, she finally got her manager. I still had to repeat it twice. Not because her English was bad, but because apparently, paying for a total stranger's meal is not a common occurrence at this particular eating establishment.

I was finally able to accomplish my original goal. But within that time span of approximately 3 or 4 minutes, several times I wanted to just blow it off and try again another time. But Jesus never said that following Him would be easy. And if everything was easy to attain, then nothing would be worth having. As I was pulling away, I made a conscience effort NOT to look at the truck behind me. But I couldn't help it. I glanced at him just as he was turning his head towards me. I'm not a great lip reader, but I'm pretty sure his way of saying thank you translated into "What the F***!?!" And that was good enough for me...(smile)