Remember

Reflect.

Rebuild.

Sonseed, Mounties, and Wasting Time

And they say there is no good sacred music anymore.

Friends, I give you "Sonseed":




My favorite lyrics:

"He is like a Mountie, he always gets his man, and he'll zap you anyway he can.....ZAP!"

"He loves me when I'm right, He loves me when I'm wrong, He loves me when I waste my time by writing silly songs."

I think Jesus loves "Sonseed" a GREAT deal.

LHC - Kiss Your #@! Goodbye?

Tomorrow, the worlds largest atom collider powers up for the first time.

In the best case the Large Hadron Colliders' ALICE experiment successfully creates quark-gluon plasma, a substance theorized to have existed just milliseconds after the Big Bang. By generating temperatures more than 100,000 times hotter than the sun, scientists hope to watch as this particle goo cools and expands into the particles that we know. That could help scientists answer why protons and neutrons weigh 100 times more than the quarks they're made of. And why women cry at the most random times imaginable.

The the worst case, scientists inadvertently make a micro black hole, and the earth is quickly erased from existence. Just kidding. Scientists at CERN and elsewhere have ruled out the possibility that the LHC will create any kind of doomsday scenario. The black holes that the LHC could theoretically create don't even have enough energy to light up a light bulb. On the other hand, the U.K.'s Astronomer Royal put the odds of destroying the world at 1 in 50 million. I plan on going to work tomorrow. If not, I hope I see you in Paradise.

If you are as geekish as me, check this out, its interesting:

Driving Home a Little Slower

Sometimes, God presents you with these little moments. Glimpses of grace and reflection. The feeling that, if maybe for a few moments you have been relieved of the mundane pattern of living. Gravity gets a little lighter, and the space between Heaven and Earth gets very thin.

I had a few moments like that last night. I won't forget them soon.

It was 10:45 PM, and Nancy & I had just had a wonderful dinner and long, interesting conversation on our back porch with friends. After chatting for hours, our friends departed, and it was my turn to pick up our 14 year-old at a friends house, just two blocks away. A bunch of neighborhood kids had all decided to gather at this home to watch TV and hang out. I was to pick up Heather and her friends, and deliver everyone home. Normally, this would be an ordinary task. Lately, I have taken to looking for the extraordinary in the ordinary.

As I pulled up to the house, I could see all the kids in the kitchen, hugging each other goodbye, in that special, Not in Junior High, but Not Really in High School sort of way. There I sat, outside in the dark in the car, looking back 35 years or so, and reflecting on that same time in my own life. Caught farther along in time, glancing over my shoulder.

The kids piled in the car, and the friends were delivered home, complete with jokes, and giggling, and even cell phone photos taken of each other as we drove home. Playing softly in the background, from my Ipod, was Eric Clapton, the Unplugged Album. Just another seemingly normal September night.

But as we headed home, Clapton's ballad, "Tears in Heaven" came on. I paused the Ipod, and turned to Heather, telling her that this song had been written after Eric Clapton lost his son, who was only 4 years old. "This song asks a lot of good questions", I said.

And then, we two, drove silently, all the way home, a drive of about 5 minutes, listening to the words of this haunting song.

Loss, pain beyond our knowing, and questions about Heaven.

I drove home slower than I usually do. Note to self: I need to do this more often.

John Daker, The Legend

I am a Presbyterian. However, after viewing this, I am considering switching to the Methodist Church. Talk about cutting edge......

Based on the video below, it seems everyone is required to drink at least four beers before participating in worship. Sign me up. Also, Italian love songs work so well as sacred music, would you not agree?

I Agree with Rudy

I don't like the booing.....but he does have a point.

Phillip Toledano - Days with My Father

I found this web site today. It is wonderful, and haunting.

It made me remember the loss of my own Dad, less than a year ago. Even though he caused me stress, I miss my Dad.

Olympics 2008

For two weeks, every night, the world was transfixed by mostly ordinary people doing completely extraordinary things. For me, the Olympis is always human drama at its best! This really IS part of what the Abundant Life must be about.

In the Widget below, first click on "All Sports", then scroll down a little to "Musical Montage". Wonderful! Congrats to the good folks at NBC Sports. Job very, very well done!

Exclusive Summer Olympics news & widgets at NBC Olympics.com!

Remembering Childhood - The Sandbox

For a couple of months now, I have been meaning to write a bit about my memories of growing up. I have never done this before. Blogging is a great way to share these sorts of things in a relatively permanent way.

That's me on the left, taken when I was 8 months old. Small kid, big bed. Nice curtains, huh?

About the first thing I can remember in life is a sandbox. It was located in the backyard of the first house I lived in. My dad had bought a lot in Arcadia, California, a shiny post War suburb northeast of Los Angeles, and built a house. Since he was in the construction business, he was the general contractor. 618 Santa Rosa Road. 1,300 square feet, built in 1951.

Back to the sandbox. It was located in a rather strange place, sort of off to the side of the driveway in the back yard. During the summer, I remember it as no shade, burning sun. White play sand, put carefully in a circle with little brick pavers around the edge. My Dad was always neat; he liked things put carefully in their place. Some might call it anal. We teasingly called him Norville Neat. I remember that Dad used to get pretty mad when he came home and found I had spilled sand out of the box onto the driveway. He was like that; anal.

From what I can remember, I really liked that sandbox when I was little. I have vague memories of sitting in there for a long time, playing in the sand. I was an only child, and I think I spent a lot of time there, sifting sand and thinking little kid thoughts. Maybe this was the beginning of the often solitary life I lead, growing up in the Smog Belt of Southern California.

Back to today. Earlier this summer, our older girl went to church camp the same week that my wife and younger daughter took a road trip to Texas. I was completely alone at home for a week. I was quite sad for a day or two when everyone first left.

Then after a couple of days, I was surprised one morning when I woke wake up in a very quiet house, realizing I was all alone. Then suddenly, and rather strangely, I remembered playing in that sandbox, all those years ago, on Santa Rosa Road.

Donald Miller Prays

This is my favorite moment of the DNC. The sound cut-out is not a conspiracy, you did not miss much of substance. Donald Miller got it right. I like that he is not afraid of using Jesus' name. That works for me.

Missional vs. Mish Mash

You have to love the Brits:

I'm Afraid

Tonight was cool on the back porch. I arrived home from work about 7 PM, to smell steak barbecuing in the back yard, the minute I got out of the car. A kiss from my wife and tacos on the patio with the kids.

One of our daughters' best friends was over "to hang" and join us for dinner. We love our girl's friends; they are so sweet, and fun, and funny, and goofy. Classic teenagers; if you could bottle their energy, you could make a zillion dollars.

We shared steak and chicken tacos, chatted about our summer vacations, and enjoyed the cool of evening. The conversation turned to college plans, as we adults are want to do. Kelly protested with the obligatory "Da-ad", when the topic turned to college thoughts. I understand, the pressure must often feel pretty tough. But it makes for good conversation.

Kelly's friend probably spent about 45 minutes on our porch, under the gathering dusk, talking about her family, her older siblings, expectations for life, and the coming Senior year at high school. We talked about plans, and dreams, and "what would you do, if you could do anything in the world"?

Buried in the midst of the conversation was a refrain, a common theme repeated several times. A phrase that caught the real sense of being 17, approaching Senior year, and unsure of what lies ahead......

"It's scary" and "I'm afraid". What will the future hold? Will it be college, junior college, city college, work? And then there are relationships; oh my!

I agree. It is scary. I would be afraid too. It is not easy to be 17 these days - and facing the expectations of peers, of parents, of siblings, and of well, our society.

It was a great conversation. I am completely thankful for these friends of our girls that come to visit, and that for even a few moments, our home is place where they feel welcome, and maybe even heard.

May we continue to listen well.