Monday, December 24, 2007

Merry Christmas

Blackfive, the best milblogging read on the Internet, put out the call for his fellow milbloggers to send their Christmas wishes to the troops via video. This is the result:



It is strange and heartwarming to see the likenesses and hear the voices of faraway people whose sites I've been reading for so long.

Also from Blackfive comes this Christmas Eve report from independent embed C. Blake Powers, known on Blackfive as "Laughing Wolf." It is good news: security, economy, and community are taking hold in Baghdad. The people are standing up for themselves, building infrastructure, creating art.

Laughing Wolf says it best: "Perfect? No. Much improved and continuing to improve? Yes. The people have security and hope, and appear to be making the most of it."

Hope is the best gift you can give or receive. Merry Christmas to Iraq, and to all of you as well.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Valour-IT: Give For A Wounded Warrior

This post will remain at the top of my blogs until November 11, 2007. Skip on down to the new stuff if you've already seen this...but please read on if you're new here.

Guide-dog-puppy-in-training Truman and I are big fans of the U.S. military; you might remember our care package posts, and you might also know that I am a Soldiers' Angels volunteer. Both my dad and my grandpa served during wartime, so this is a cause that's dear to me.

Many of our young men are coming home from Iraq and Afghanistan with devastating hand and arm injuries that result in isolation and frustration in addition to the physical pain of the injury itself. Think about it: is your computer your lifeline? Your source of news and entertainment? Your outlet for self-expression? Your means of earning a paycheck? If your hands were burned, bandaged, missing -- such that you could not even scratch an itch or hold a toothbrush, much less send an e-mail from your hospital bed to a faraway loved one -- what impact would this have upon your life?

Project Valour-IT exists for this reason. The project that serves our wounded troops by providing them with voice-activated laptops is having its annual fundraising competition, complete with a little good natured inter-branch rivalry.

I made a generic pitch/bleg last year, but this year I'm aligning with Team USMC, in honor of my adopted Marine (and because Truman also fancies himself a devil dog of sorts).

Will you take a moment to make even a small tax-deductible donation (via PayPal or credit card)? Every dollar counts, and every cent goes to the purchase and shipment of the laptops. This is a perfect opportunity to show your gratitude for the sacrifices made by our military (especially if you live in an area not directly connected to the military community), or to teach your children the value of giving, or to be a vital part of someone's healing process.

Help Team USMC reach our $60,000-by-Veteran's-Day goal! Please give by clicking on the thermometer graph in the sidebar.

Thank you. And now, back to our regularly scheduled random posts.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Cure for the Modern Bland-O-Lantern

You've seen them around the neighborhood: round, smiley, friendly, pointy-nosed. The typical boring jack-o-lantern. Maybe you've even carved your share of uninspired pumpkins.

Not anymore. Not after this.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Oh, the Irony of Saying This in a Blog Post

I've been wrestling with my schedule lately, trying to get a solid hold on how I'm spending my time and energy so I can cut things out or be more disciplined (this is my perpetual battle). Again and again, I come back to how much time I've been spending with my beloved Internet. Technology is beneficial only insofar as it serves us...but many of us have instead become its slaves.

Not that you'd know it by the infrequency of my blog posts for the last several months, but I really am spending too much time "plugged in." I don't have an iPod, and I'm not as much of a texting fiend or cell phone user as many people my age, but I'm almost certain I would be reduced to a quivering blob of jelly in the corner if someone were to take away my Web access for more than a few days at a time. It's where I get my news; how I stay in touch with friends, make social plans, and archive the goings-on of my life and volunteer work; it's how I *do* some of my volunteer work; it's even a significant component of my (ahem, actual PAID) job.

Certainly it's no coincidence that in the last few weeks -- since I've been praying for wisdom and insight into the problem of my technical difficulties, as it were -- I've run across three wise and insightful articles on the subject. Any of you wearing similar cyber-shackles would do well to get some perspective here:

* Joe Thorn on "unplugging"

* Joe Carter on taking an "Info-Techno Sabbath"

* Mark Driscoll on "Cell Sin"

(Too many HT's to list...everyone's talking about this topic!)

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Monday, October 15, 2007

Why I Was in Minnesota

But seriously, folks...

I actually went to Minnesota to attend the fifth annual Desiring God conference. This year's topic was endurance and perseverance in the faith, and each of the speakers was worth the price of admission.

You want perseverance? Try being a single woman in the mid-twentieth century, working as a medical missionary to the people of Africa, only to be kidnapped, beaten, raped and held captive for five months by Congolese rebels. Dr. Helen Roseveare -- who never married, by the way -- is in her eighties now, and still active in speaking, writing, and mentoring young women in her native England. What an incredible experience it was to hear her speak about the foundations of joy and hope, without a trace of bitterness or anger about the trials she's endured throughout her many decades of ministry. She radiates joy.

Why is perseverance important? So many people with an alleged assurance of their own salvation completely drop off the spiritual map, either by succumbing to discouragement in hard times or by leaning a bit too heavily (and selfishly) on the doctrine of grace and "freedom in Christ." Greg Koukl of Stand to Reason has an excellent, brief article on this subject that's worth your time.

Want in on what I heard and saw at the conference? All the sessions are now available online for free.

Saturday, October 06, 2007

Things I Learned in Minnesota, Part 4 (Special "Mall of America" Edition!)

While you are not allowed to bring your gun to the Mall of America, you are allowed to do the following:

Ride a roller coaster!



Get married!





Raise up an army of frightening, Disneyfied, sparkly makeover preteen zombie girls!

Friday, October 05, 2007

Things I Learned in Minnesota, Part 3

Minnesota's full of saints!

And apparently it's also full of nature. This is part of the historic stone arch bridge over the Mississippi River at St. Anthony Main, the riverfront district. We walked around here for a bit, until it started raining:



Then there's St. Paul, of course. Here's the St. Paul Cathedral, as seen from across the street at the Capitol:



And here's the Basilica of St. Mary (America's first basilica, built in 1914):



The Basilica had a gift shop, which necessitated a visit. Amy wins the prize for finding the most offensive-to-good-taste affront to the Gospel -- a wee plastic idol of St. Joseph, which can apparently be used to help you with your real estate woes:





Though there were many other items in the gift shop that would remind you to "invoke" certain saints to help you with day to day tasks, St. Joseph wins this dubious honor because he was represented by an actual idol. An IDOL. For those of you who don't understand what the problem is with this (and who don't hear that whirring sound that is surely Martin Luther spinning in his grave), I'll let Amy explain.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

Things I Learned in Minnesota, Part 2

My friend's sister, who lives near Minneapolis, was kind enough to pick us up from the airport on the day we arrived and drive us over to where the rest of our friends were meeting. We parked at the destination, got out of the car, and Amy and I stood at the corner of the intersection to wait for the traffic signal...

...while Sarah, halfway across the street, looked back at us like we were aliens.

"What are you guys waiting for?"

After exchanging a puzzled glance, Amy and I crossed with the just-turned light and caught up with her.

But it wasn't just Sarah. Turns out, ALL Minnesotans share this blatant disregard for pedestrian rules. The entire weekend in Minneapolis, we marveled as the tourists waited at the corner and the locals stepped right out into the street. Is it that the population isn't so dense that the traffic is prohibitive of illegal crossing? Amy's theory is that people are just too nice there, so drivers will courteously allow such strange behavior (a theory disproven when I, crossing legally, was nearly squashed by someone making an errant left turn).

Not that I have a photo to illustrate this further disproving of the politeness theory, but I must also note that everyone we encountered who worked in a customer service job was surly, slow, and seemed inconvenienced by our mere presence. The weather was beautiful all weekend; maybe Minnesotans suffer from some reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder that renders them unhappy in all but the coldest temperatures.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Things I Learned in Minnesota, Part 1

It's good for me to get out of Southern California every once in a while, to experience a different region, city, culture, maybe even a little weather. A recent trip to Minnesota proved both entertaining and educational.

For example, you are apparently allowed to carry a gun in Minnesota. But you are apparently not allowed to go anywhere with it.





Thursday, September 13, 2007

Reasons Not to Mess With Texas

I don't like this, not one bit. And it just gets worse as you keep reading....

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Your Nominations Welcome

Today's most excellent Yahoo! News headline:

"Scientists find parasitic star that feeds off nearby companions"

Narrow it down for those of us who live in L.A., guys! That could be almost anyone.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Tales From the Spam Folder

Spam subject lines I have loved (and the senders who sent them), categorized for your convenience:

VERY ENCOURAGING, THANKS
* (St. Maris) - I like you
* (Cordelia) - Why I Love You

SERIOUS DISCUSSIONS AHEAD
* (Conrad) - It’s ok. I can take it.
* (do you like me) - Nude modeling, business or art?
* (Summers Randolph) - He wasn’t sure about Sal.

POINTS FOR CREATIVE VARIATIONS ON TIRED SUBJECTS
* (Sales) - Your weenie will thank you ;)
* (Abdul K. Holman) - Big your piano, be a real man
* (daytime) - Classy drugs at very low prices!
* (Deana Cooper) - Make fab, not fat

SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION?
* (Britney’s bra) - Britney’s bra: Not for sale
* (David O) - discover the madness of Davido....

ONE I WAS ACTUALLY TEMPTED TO OPEN:
* (anarchist@ff.com) - announcement

FANTASTICALLY UNINTELLIGIBLE
* (Cameron) - Recreational hacksaw
* (Neda Whitten) - weedy armpit gegenschein
* (Luisa Clinton) - Bangui range range

BEST USE OF A SERIES
* (bias) - Hi sweety! Remember me? cupid
* (elastomer) - Hi sweety! Remember me? yogi
* (cluj) - YO Superman! Remember me? transvestite

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Cubicle Confidential: Uh-Oh

As overheard through the cubicle wall I share with the I.T. Guy....

(phone rings)

"This is [I.T. Guy]."

(momentary pause)

"... um ... the whole Internet?"

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Mustaches...for Kids...?

Heaven help me, I am simultaneously fascinated and repulsed by facial hair. Bring me strange, true tales of groups of men dedicated to the cultivation of their soul patches, mutton chops, handlebars...I am captivated. This is my proverbial train wreck. I cannot look away.

I don't even know how I find these things. They seem to leap into my path. Remember this post on the World Beard Championships? Today brings another gem: Mustaches for Kids.

Brings to mind a sort of Locks of Love-style image, no? Okay, not quite. But this is indeed a legitimate, charitable organization. It raises money for children. And it is indescribably compelling.

From their website:

At the end of the Growing Season, each Mustaches for Kids chapter hosts a Mustache Competition, which is a cross between a beauty pageant, dog show, and police line up. During the Competition, Growers, often in Mustache-enhancing costumes, are put through a test of mind, body, and Mustache and allow their facial hair to be evaluated by an independent panel of judges, and one Mustache is declared to be the "Sweetest."


They have chapters, bylaws ("No Hitler Mustaches are allowed"), and an absolutely stunning FAQ. Trust me, check out the site. If anything on Earth could ever persuade me to go against my principles and encourage people to grow mustaches....

Saturday, July 28, 2007

A Warrior Poet and a Call to Action

I'm away this weekend volunteering with Soldiers' Angels at the Marine Corps Family Conference.

All U.S. servicemen (and women) deserve our respect and gratitude for doing the unglamorous, often thankless, life altering work they do (that most of us, let's face it, would never step up to do ourselves)...but there is something particularly extraordinary about the Marine Corps.

Today, out in Iraq, there are currently 3,000 Marines in desperate need of your support, and Soldiers' Angels is looking for people to adopt them. If you have ever considered adopting a soldier, if you have been on the fence about it, now is the time to show that you know the meaning of sacrifice.

One card or letter per week costs just 41 cents. Flat-rate Global Priority Mail packages cost only $8.95 to ship, and if you are creative, not a lot of money to fill with necessary and morale-boosting items.

How much do you spend on lunches at work? Could you bring food from home once a week and put that money toward providing a few words of encouragement and a comforting touch of home to a Marine who is serving this country with the kind of passion and dedication exhibited in this video?

Sunday, July 08, 2007

Pet Peeve Du Jour

If I introduce myself as "Jenny," that is not an invitation for you to call me "Jennifer."

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Hey Sailor

I went out swing dancing last week at the club down the street, and one of the regulars there is a war vet named Saul. He is the rare person who will actually attempt intelligent conversation during a dance, so in between spins and swingouts, we were chatting about his service ("Navy. I was a flyer.") and about other places he goes to dance during the week.

He said, "I went down to Alpine Village on Monday night, and suddenly remembered why I stopped going there ten years ago. Too many old people!"

Did I mention when Saul served? He's an octogenarian WWII vet.

Monday, June 04, 2007

These Are the People in Your Neighborhood

Or maybe just in my neighborhood. I see this tree every morning when I walk the beastie. Around it, there is wrapped what appears to be a homemade swing, the bottom of which has been artfully and pragmatically rendered in Sharpie:

Friday, May 25, 2007

Memorial Day

Of course I hope you have a good holiday weekend. But I also hope that, in between the road trips and the barbecues and the beach volleyball, you would take some time to remember why we observe Memorial Day.

My thoughts at the moment are occupied by the most recent "high-profile casualty" in this war -- a young soldier from Torrance, California who was found just yesterday in the Euphrates River, after having been abducted and killed. Torrance is near where I live. I've never met him, but tonight his family is grieving a mere few miles from me, and it is all I can do to pray for their comfort and to honor his sacrifice.

Please do the same.

Please be mindful of what you are able to do this weekend and why you are able to do it.

Please read this Blackfive post, and while you're at it, this one, too. I promise, they are worth your time. There are men out there now, and men throughout history, who have deemed your freedom worth their time, even unto the end of their earthly time.

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Monday, May 07, 2007

Saturday, May 05, 2007

Too Bad Her Name's Amy

Because "ChewBECCA" would have been a great title for this one.

When 30 Years Old You Reach, Look as Good, You Will Not

Forgive the "landscape" view in lieu of "portrait" -- this is a Blogger bug that has yet to be addressed. Just tilt your head & enjoy.

Anyway, this exhibit full of props, puppets, models and costumes came about as part of the hoopla surrounding the 30th anniversary of Star Wars (the REAL Star Wars, not The Wretched Abomination of Which We Shall No Longer Speak). As the person who once received and read all the incoming resumes and cover letters from potential model makers at New Deal Studios (the best VFX house in Southern California), I can attest to the influence this franchise has had on American culture, the art of film, and guys who were born in the 1970's.

That's a solemn dating credo around here, by the way: "No one born after Star Wars."

Friday, May 04, 2007

Fine, Okay? We're Nerds

One week ago, in a galaxy about 17 miles away, the roomie and I owned up to our collective inner geek and jumped in her freeway-speeder to see the "Star Wars: The Art and Science of Imagination" exhibit at the California Science Center.

We promptly owned up to our collective OUTER geek, as you will see in a series of photos I'll post over the next few days.

I'll begin with this one, though, which will hopefully keep things in perspective for you: WE WERE NOT WEARING COSTUMES. This guy was roaming from car to car as we were waiting in line to pay for parking.

Sure hope he worked for the museum.

Friday, April 27, 2007

Stretching My Lexicon

CRIMINALLY UNDERUSED WORDS

Brobdingnagian
Churlish
Festooned
Widdershins

Monday, April 02, 2007

Profundity

Much of my life of late has been devoted to the canine world, since the arrival of Truman. But as these quotes from "Understanding & Teaching Self Control" by Suzanne Clothier (from Flying Dog Press) illustrate, it's not necessarily just about the dog. Humans, take note:
"Compared to IQ, which some psychologists and educators feel is a relatively unchangeable quality, there is substantial evidence that emotional skills, such as self control, can be learned. The findings of this study highlight the importance of self control as a 'meta-ability' -- one that sits above and affects how poorly or well the other mental skills can be used."

Hmm. Sounds mighty familiar.

"Obedience training is useful, as is any education, when it is built on a foundation of self control. No matter how well educated or intelligent a person might be, if they have no behavioral option but to react to every comment or action or event in their lives, they will lead strange and disturbing existences that do not reflect their 'training.' Likewise, a 'trained' dog is not trained until he has learned self control."

Anyone else out there feeling convicted?

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Three Words, People:



World. Beard. Championships.

There is nothing I can offer you that is better than that link. Except, maybe, their blog. Not tempted? Here's an excerpt:

Now meet Hans Langstreth from Norway. According to Guinness, the late Hans sported the world's longest beard. In fact, Longstreth's beard is or was on display at the Smithsonian, the same as the Hope Diamond and the Spirit of St. Louis.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Where is Jenny?

Over here, in puppyville. You people with kids...I don't know how you do it.

Friday, March 02, 2007

I'm Not Just Ignoring You

On a personal note, someone -- maybe you? -- called my home number and left a message for me yesterday (Thursday, March 1). Unfortunately, due to technical difficulties with our phone line, probably resulting from a combination of ridiculous winds and the phone line's general state of everyday crappiness, all I heard on the answering machine was a bunch of static. Didn't get a name, a number, or even two seconds of voice to provide me with an opportunity to play guess-who.

My outgoing calls are also affected by this, so until the fine people at the phone company come out, I won't be using my home phone. Call me on my cell if you need to reach me this weekend, and for the love of all that is holy, please tell me if you were the person who left yesterday's message. For all I know, it might have been important....

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Jeepers! It's an Air Raid!

Attention swing dancers, jazz musicians, conspiracy theorists, and WWII/military/Los Angeles history buffs: this Saturday is the "Great Los Angeles Air Raid of 1942" at the Fort MacArthur Museum in San Pedro!

This annual event, which commemorates a controversial night in the early days of WWII when thousands of Southern Californians thought the coast was under attack (from Japanese bombers? weather balloons? space aliens?), promises to "recreate the atmosphere of a 1942 social evening out, interrupted by the reality of war."

Participants are encouraged, but not required of course, to bring their dancing shoes (I'll have mine!). And maybe some earplugs... because in addition to the sounds of the live band playing under the stars, there "may be some loud noises" during the course of the evening's re-enactment.

How cool is that?!?

Friday, February 09, 2007

Technical Difficulties

This week I switched to the new-and-allegedly-improved Blogger, mainly because I had no choice. I had logged in to post on my other blog about the graduation of Guide Dog Lomax, only to discover a friendly "You must switch right now; it'll only take a few minutes and everything will be just like you like it, only BETTER! (smiley-face smiley-face)" message.

So I did. Then I went to log back in, and all of my blogs were MIA. For a few days.

There was of course much cursing, and much eyeball-rolling and forehead massaging at the inadequate and labyrinthine "help" section, whose "known issues" FAQ was not remotely helpful in answering my own particular known issue. Somehow, inexplicably, the blogs returned from their magical hiatus a few days later (long before I received an unhelpful e-mail reply from the Blogger Duh Squad) and now all is basically back to normal. As far as I know, that is.

I'm assuming that since I couldn't even find the blogs, you might not have been able to find them either. Or maybe you couldn't comment on them. Or maybe your hair caught fire when you thought too hard about them (Blogger is part of the All-Powerful Grand and Glorious Google Empire, so I don't know what they're capable of these days).

In any case, I'm still here, and I apologize for any inconvenience or hair-fires those glitchy few days may have caused.

Saturday, February 03, 2007

Just in Case

I've been yakking it up on my other blog that Lomax, the puppy I raised for Guide Dogs of America, is graduating tomorrow. I will be seeing him for the first time in six months, and possibly the last time ever, tomorrow morning. Another privilege: I get to meet his new partner, a woman named Barbara. Someone asked me the other day what I would do if I didn't like her.

I said, "My roommate and I will assemble a crack team of professionals and go in for an extraction."

Don't think we won't do it. We know people.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Rolling Victory Fast

Those of you who know me personally -- or those of you who have looked at my sidebar full of links to military blogs I regularly read -- know that I am passionate about supporting U.S. troops, especially those who are currently deployed in service around the globe.

One of my favorite daily reads is Tanker Brothers. Last July, these guys instituted the "Rolling Victory Fast" in response to the "Rolling Fast" hunger strike called by anti-war activists.

I am participating today for the first time.

Knowing that I have many friends, family members and readers here who do not share either my religious beliefs or political views, I wish to first assure you I mean no offense to anyone, and I do not intend to start controversy or heated discussion. This blog has always been more of a personal Web journal than a forum for debate, so if you choose to comment on this post, please be respectful, regardless of your position.

Knowing also the words of God in Matthew chapter 6 of the Bible, in which believers are admonished not to "practice [their] righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them" (as fasting and prayer are spiritual disciplines), I agonized over whether or not to even post about this. In the end, I decided to post in order to show support for the Tanker Brothers' and other RVF members' efforts, to bring it to your attention in case you'd like to join the fast, and to remind my fellow Christian readers and bloggers that it is our responsibility to pray for our government (including our military) on a regular basis, however we choose to align ourselves politically. We are privileged in this country to be able to worship freely and to speak our minds in public fearlessly; let us remember why we are so privileged.

For my first RVF day, I'd like to dedicate my fast to all the military chaplains who care for the hearts and souls of our deployed men and women. War is not just physical -- today I'll be praying for the mental, emotional and spiritual needs of our deployed soldiers, and for God to encourage, equip, refresh and sustain the chaplains and their charges.

In the spirit of today's dedication, I'd also like to point you to another favorite milblog, The Online Chaplain. Deployed to Iraq, with a recently extended tour of duty and a loving family awaiting his return, he could use your prayers as well.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Don't Dream It's Over

I saw them at the Wiltern Theater back in the mid-90's, before they broke up. As I recall, Sheryl Crow played the longest and most painful opening set in the history of bands-I-did-not-come-to-see.

I have since seen Neil Finn, sometimes along with his brother Tim, on numerous occasions at some excellent small venues. My head is about to pop right off my neck right now. Because Crowded House is about to reunite for a world tour!!!!

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Must maintain composure. Must not snap vocal cords in half. Must check for ticket sales every fourteen seconds with Visa card in hand. Neil. Neil. NEIL. NEIL. NEEEEEEEEEIIIIIILLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!

{p-TWANNNNGGG!!!}

Ouch.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

(Won't You Take Me To) Funkytown

Today's potpourri of freshness, courtesy of my office building:

1.) Upstairs hallway: mmmm...someone didn't make it to the bathroom! Who's having the party?

2.) Downstairs hallway: I don't see it, but I know it's here -- where are you hiding the pile of month-old sweat socks and jock straps?

3.) Bathroom in the downstairs hallway, because I couldn't GET to the bathroom in the upstairs hallway: apparently, no one else could get to the upstairs bathroom either...anyone have a match? Make that a box of matches?

4.) Kitchen: fettucini alfredo a la "Lean Cuisine" -- see number one, above

Friday, January 12, 2007

Hide and Po Seek

Those of you who know us in real life are probably aware that the roomie and I, having been friends since we were little girls, share not just the bond of near-sisterhood but also the bond of...weirdness. We do silly things, many of them so ridiculous and deeply "in-joke" in nature that unfortunately, any explanation of said things to those on the outside would have to be so complex and detailed as to strip them entirely of their entertainment value. You would be left staring blankly at us, and possibly experiencing an inner "Aha!" moment with respect to the eternal question of why she and I are both still single.

I can tell you this, though: we take turns hiding a Po.

Like many of our best long standing jokes, I have no memory of how this even started (though I have a sneaking suspicion Deborah may have been involved at some point, as she is in so many of our other adventures). Anyway, Po -- pictured above, one of the annoying Teletubbies of PBS fame -- is a six-inch red plastic doll that somehow ended up living at our apartment, despite the fact neither of us has children.

We take turns hiding him in the apartment, sometimes so effectively that neither of us remembers where he is or who last hid him until several months later, when it's finally cold enough to wear that jacket with the big pockets, or when one of us gets around to cleaning out her filing cabinet (only to discover a suspicious file folder labeled "Po").

I mention this today because it's my turn; Po has been staring at me for several days now and I am currently alone in the apartment (muwahahahaaaa). But I also mention it because I am not only grateful to enjoy the kind of friendship that makes this weirdness acceptable, but because this article (HT: cube) puts us in good company.

Friday, January 05, 2007

Must Read TV

It's the ultimate crossover series. If you have a soft spot in your heart (and your primetime schedule) for a one-man army, a mysterious island, or a sarcastic doctor, I recommend Ken Levine's LOST HOUSE 24:

Part I

Part II

Monday, January 01, 2007

True Freedom

A caveat: this is a very, very long post, but I hope you find it worth your time. I've been sitting on the subject matter for about four months, waiting for the right moment to share it with you. New Year's seems about right.

You might need some context for what I'm about to say, so feel free to get some backstory before you read on.

It's been eighteen years since my brother's death. And for eighteen years, I've had a name stuck in my head: the name of someone who used to bully him in school. There were probably other bullies (there's rarely just one, right?), but this one particular kid sticks out because I heard his name so often.

The strange thing is, I don't hate this guy. Surely I used to, but it's been so long since I've come to be at peace with everything, I can't remember the last time I cursed his name when I thought of it. For eighteen years, however, I've wondered whatever became of him, and if he even remembers my brother. I've wondered if he ever thinks back on those days and feels remorse.

Billy killed himself, but it wasn't because some kid made his life hell. The years that have passed have brought me life experience and clarity of perspective that helped me figure out what I could not have made sense of when I was fifteen. He was bullied, but lots of kids are bullied. He felt pressured, but lots of kids feel pressured. My best guess is that Billy had emotional problems, too, and we just didn't see them. His death was his choice, and nobody's fault.

So every once in a while, I'd search the Web in an attempt to find this guy-whose-name-will-not-leave-me. Nothing ever turned up until last August.

I found him, and I sent an e-mail to him through the website for the chamber of commerce of his little town. I gave my name, asked him if he grew up where I did, if he was the same guy-by-that-name who attended such-and-such middle school. Said I'd like to talk to him, if that's the case. Didn't divulge anything more.

A few days later I received his reply.

He said he didn't know who I was until he prayed and sought God's counsel about whether or not he should (as a married man) reply to an unknown woman who had contacted him. He said that God told him who I was and why I was contacting him. And he was terrified.

So in my next e-mail, admitting that I had no idea what I truly wanted to say after looking for him all this time, I did the only thing I could do: I forgave him. Inasmuch as one human being is empowered to do so, I released him from any responsibility and guilt he may have been feeling (though the whole time, I was thinking myself arrogant for even assuming he may have felt any). Yet it was not I who had the power to truly forgive, or even to facilitate my own desire to forgive him. And I explained that this moment was a result of the regeneration of my spirit through the atoning work of Jesus Christ, who makes all things new.

His subsequent reply, in its entirety:

Did I ever feel any guilt after Billy’s death? I felt guilt every day of my life for a long, long time. Every night as I lay in my bed I would replay those events over and over again. I would ask myself, "Why?" Why did I do that? Why was I like that? Why couldn’t I have just been Billy’s friend? Why didn’t someone stop me? Why didn’t Billy tell the teacher, a counselor, the principal? Why was I such a jerk?

I know now why I was the way I was. I had no self esteem. I viewed myself as ugly and awkward and was terrified of rejection. So what did I do? I found other people to belittle. If I could make other people laugh then it made me feel good. If I could make other people laugh at someone else then I knew that they weren’t laughing at me. So Billy became my target. Why? I don’t know. I know that this may sound unbelievable to you, but as a fourteen year old boy, I never even considered the fact that maybe I was hurting Billy’s feelings. In my mind I was just joking around with Billy and having a little fun. I was just so blind. Until it was to late.

Then I found my self sitting in the school office being interviewed by the police for the part I played in your brother’s death. I acted like I didn’t care. I showed no remorse. I never said a word to my mom or to anyone for that matter. I acted like life was going on as normal on the outside, but inside my life was shattered.

I wished every night that your brother had brought that gun to school and killed me instead. But he didn’t. And time passed. The guilt never left, but I buried it away. But over the years it went from being a nightly battle, to a weekly battle to a monthly battle.

There are many things that have shaped my life. Nothing though has shaped my life like your brother’s death. Your brother’s death plunged me into a life of despair, guilt, shame and hopelessness. You would have never known it though by looking at me on the outside. I covered everything up and pretended like everything was alright. To this day there are few people that know what I did to one hurting little boy my eighth grade year of junior high. It was your brother’s death and the guilt that it brought to me that drove me to the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.

At age nineteen I was a lonely, hurting young man. Life seemed meaningless and hopeless and I even considered many times doing exactly what Billy had done to himself. It would be so easy and then all the pain and suffering would come to an end. But, I knew there was one more thing I could try; I could turn to God. And so I did. On June 1st of 1993, at age nineteen I asked Jesus Christ to come into my heart and forgive me of my sins. My life has never been the same.

I have been in the ministry for twelve years now. I answered the call of God at age 21 and became the youth pastor at a little country church right outside of [redacted]. I ministered to teenagers for ten years before I felt the Lord moving me in the direction of pastoring a church. Two and a half years ago I took my first senior pastorate here at [redacted].

I know that, "If any one is in Christ he is a new creation etc..." I also know that the Lord forgave me for what I did to your brother. But to be honest with you, I have never completely forgiven myself. Of course it is something that the devil loves to bring to my remembrance. It is not like I got saved and forgiven and I have never thought about Billy again. To the contrary; after my salvation I then begin to struggle with, "Should I get in contact with Billy’s family?" Should I tell them that it was not their fault? Should I tell them what I did and that there were others that treated Billy like I did? Would it ease their pain to know (and I truly believe this from my experience as a youth pastor) that Billy had not reached the age of accountability at the time of his death and that our Lord in His infinite mercy received Billy into His outstretched arms? Would it mean anything to them to know that Billy’s death had purpose? That it served as a catalyst to bring a hurting, lost, young man to the saving knowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord and because of Billy’s death I have been saved and answered the call to the ministry and now (hopefully) countless other lives will be changed because of Billy’s death.

I have struggled with these thoughts up to the very time that you emailed me. I do not have to struggle anymore. I always allowed fear to keep me from action. I was afraid to drudge up painful memories. I was afraid to make every body that loved Billy live through the event all over again. I was afraid of hurting more people all over again, and selfishly, I let that fear stop me. Jenny, you were braver then me. And for that I will always be in your debt. I thank you for speaking words of forgiveness and release over my life.

I do not know what "brand" of Christian you are, and it would not affect my feelings for you as a sister in the Lord, I love the body of Christ, whether you are Catholic, Protestant, Lutheran, Methodist, Baptist, or Pentecostal. I believe that what you have done is going to greatly impact my life and yours. I believe that what you have done has started a turn of events in the spiritual realm that are going to be far reaching and ultimately impact many lives. I don’t know if that makes sense to you now, but I am sure it will some day.

There are people in my life I've found myself having to forgive over and over again; perhaps this is the case in your life as well. But truly, this is the most complete, the most profound, the purest forgiveness I have ever felt for another -- it is a picture of the forgiveness God has granted me. Once my enemy, now my friend. It is finished. There is nothing in my heart but peace about it, nothing but love for him and radiant joy in our fellowship.

Because we share the same Father, this man is also my brother. In Christ, all things are made new: hearts, lives, souls of men.

Happy new year.