Archive for April, 2011


“Baby H” came home last night.

I was awakened an hour or so ago by the inability to breath, or at least that’s how it felt. And yet, breathing, I am, and I am here. And that’s a blessing.

“Here” is blogging central, the big red chair in “the reading room” of the house. As I sit upright, awaiting the miracle working powers of Claritin to take effect, I hear someone else breathing across the room as well, and she is blissfully and blessedly sleeping on a couch just a few feet away.

H just completed her first year of college. It feels like just yesterday that we moved her into that dorm room, and that I be-musingly blogged later about Bouquets of Newly Sharpened Pencils. And now, here we are, almost 9 months later, and so much has happened. She is not the child who left, and yet, in so many ways she is still my baby.

I won’t embarrass her here with all the details, but let’s just say that, as I awoke and came in to sit a while, I noticed something about her sleep setting that is exactly the same as it was almost 19 years ago. Thank you, Jewell Barnett. Not sure you care to keep up with WordPress from that Mansion Up High that you and Joe are getting to enjoy, but if you do, then you likely know that H still loves your contribution to her young and blessed life.

Blessed by an allergy attack. Who knew?

HE knew. HE knows everything, and there is blessing to be found in almost any moment in life. I’m coming to believe that more and more each and every day.

I am grateful. And I think I’m going back to bed, before she starts to hear me breath. Signing off from “blogging central”, perhaps until the next blessed attack, in whatever form it may take…


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I’m home sick today. Not fun, to say the least. You wake up, stumble around wondering how to go about your day, and then it happens. You hit your knees. Bowing, yes, but not in prayer. Offering sacrifices to the porcelain throne is more like it. Hours of sleep, sweating, and bad hair. The protein adorning the top of my head looks something like that belonging to a cheesy bad televangelist. Mr. Nasty, indeed.

So, aside from sleep, I do what every red-blooded American male does during a flat on your back illness. I watch movies on DVD. Not just any movies, mind you. Guy movies, like Jason Bourne, James Bond, John Wayne, and You’ve Got Mail. Yes, you read it correctly. The Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan Classic of the late 90’s is playing as this is written. It is a classic. Internet history, New York, imagery, great quotes, and a cute co-star all rolled into one flick.

“Do you ever feel you become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora’s Box of all the secret hateful parts — your arrogance, your spite, your condescension — has sprung open. Someone provokes you, and instead of just smiling and moving on, you zing them. Hello, it’s Mr. Nasty”. – Joe Fox (Tom Hanks) in You’ve Got Mail.

Great quote, and great acknowledgement of the bad stuff in life, and not just those thing we sacrifice when bowing before the great porcelain throne…

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My fair lady

I received a $10 gift card e-credit from Amazon the other evening for participating in an online survey about something.    In scanning the choices for how to use this newly acquired prize, I ventured into the world of “Musicals”.     Sherry and I, many years ago, went to Casa Manana in Fort Worth and saw the son of Rex Harrison reprise his father’s role as Henry Higgens in My Fair Lady.    And there it was, the perfect choice.   We love that musical, and I can’t wait to watch it with the kids soon.  

One of my favorite songs in the show reminds me of my favorite person around, but she’s no mere flower girl:

I’ve grown accustomed to her face.

She almost makes the day begin.

I’ve grown accustomed to the tune that

She whistles night and noon.

Her smiles, her frowns,

Her ups, her downs

Are second nature to me now;

Like breathing out and breathing in.

I was serenely independent and content before we met;

Surely I could always be that way again-

And yet

I’ve grown accustomed to her look;

Accustomed to her voice;

Accustomed to her face.

….But I’m a most forgiving man;

The sort who never could, ever would,

Take a position and staunchly never budge.

A most forgiving man…. (editorial comment: only because she has showed me how it’s done!)  🙂

But I’m so used to hear her say

“Good morning” ev’ry day.

Her joys, her woes,

Her highs, her lows,

Are second nature to me now;

Like breathing out and breathing in.

I’m very grateful she’s a woman

And so easy to forget;

Rather like a habit

One can always break-

And yet,

I’ve grown accustomed to the trace

Of something in the air;

Accustomed to her face.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I love my wife dearly.   The photo montage is but a glimpse of the many windows into the soul that is S.A.B.    She truly is MY fair lady.


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I’ve been blogging (“web journaling”) off and on for a couple of years now, and the exercise has been good for me. I find that getting my thoughts out of the cranium and editing them into a sharable form has been mentally liberating. But at that point, the words are no longer just for me. They are out, for any and all to possibly see. And I’m OK with that.

I love old pictures of friends and family, but as much as the pictures, I long to know more. “What were they going thru at that time?”; “What was life like for them then; what were they thinking?”.

One day, I won’t be here anymore. I don’t know when that day will be. Regardless, I want to leave something behind for those who are close to me. I want to leave a little behind every week, if not every day.

Jesus came and went. In the mind of his disciples, he was gone in only one day. Then he came back, shared a little more, and was gone again. But he left something behind: His Spirit. And he left His words with his disciples.

I want to leave a few words behind, both my own and some sharing of other’s words (and His Words) that mean something to me. And, if I can leave behind a small sense for my spirit, that might mean something to those who were close to me and stay behind.

Good News, guys. One Day, He is coming back, and if you are still around, He will bring you to where I am. If not, we will already be there together, and will get to share with so many as it all unfolds.

I long for that One Day. You should too.

  1. One day when heaven was filled with His praises,

      One day when sin was as black as could be,

    Jesus came forth to be born of a virgin—

      Dwelt among men, my example is He!

    • Living, He loved me; dying, He saved me;

        Buried, He carried my sins far away;

      Rising, He justified freely forever:

          One day He’s coming—O glorious day!

  2. One day they led Him up Calvary’s mountain,

      One day they nailed Him to die on the tree;

    Suffering anguish, despised and rejected;

      Bearing our sins, my Redeemer is He.

  3. One day they left Him alone in the garden,

      One day He rested, from suffering free;

    Angels came down o’er His tomb to keep vigil;

      Hope of the hopeless, my Savior is He.

  4. One day the grave could conceal Him no longer,

      One day the stone rolled away from the door;

    Then He arose, over death He had conquered;

      Now is ascended, my Lord evermore.

  5. One day the trumpet will sound for His coming,

      One day the skies with His glory will shine;

    Wonderful day, my beloved ones bringing;

      Glorious Savior, this Jesus is mine!

Lyrics by L. Wilbur Chapman

Photo of Lake Hefner in OKC at sunset (I believe) by OC’s very own Ann White. Used without her permission. (Sorry, and thank you)

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I recently noticed an app on Facebook called “my top fans”, or “my top Facebook stalkers”, and noticed that my son had been tagged as a top fan of a girl.   Humm.

Intrigued, I thought “I wonder who my top followers are?”.    So, maybe against my better judgement, I ran the application, but did not allow the results to post.   

Not too many surprises in who my top 16 followers/stalkers were.   I have not included it here (the names are changed to protect the innocent).    Spouse, parents, the two daughters, college roommate, some other friends, and a couple of surprising characters made made up the listing.  If you were one of the surprising characters, you know who you are. 

But, conspicuously absent was number one son.    

What?   My son, not one of my top fans?!    Go figure.     I guess, truth be told, he finds hers more interesting than mine.    I guess that is to be expected.

But, maybe one day, when he settles down, he will be interested in dear old dad again.   One Day…

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“And then I was smart”.

My daughter was sharing a dream with me the other day. Not a wish or hope for the future, mind you, but a literal “while you were sleeping” moment. Sort of an epiphany, if you will.

She said she was dreaming about acronyms, and that the explanations for things she never understood before were coming to her. And in the dream, “it just clicked”, and she somehow came to the realization “I was smart”.

We began to talk about the dream, and initials and acronyms. I said “What about ID?”. “That too”, she said. “Identification”.

Not any real application to this today, other than to say that epiphany type moments are pretty neat, as is watching a young lady grow and discover, both in life realities and in self confidence.

And may I just say, I ID’d her as a VIP long ago. Maybe I’m smart too… 🙂

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Blood: they say it is the gift of life.   It is certainly life giving.   I am O Negative, CMV Negative (they call it “baby blood”), so the kind vampires at the blood institutes in Oklahoma and Texas have been asking me to be overly generous for over two decades.   But, I must admit, that has been more guilting than not.

You see, for most of those years, I have dreaded the exercise of getting stuck.   It made me feel awful.   “Back in the day”, as a skinny college student, I almost passed out once.    Since that time, more weight (I like to call it “substance of form”) in tow, it has been easier.    But, it still has made me feel bad.   Tired, washed out, light-headed, in a bad mood: you name it, I’ve felt it, after “giving the gift of life”.    Pretty sad, huh?

I made some choices a year or so back.    One of them was to begin exercising.    Since that time, I have given “the gift of life”, and I am happy (but slightly embarrassed) to say “I felt good”.     Whether it is improved circulation, improved respiration, improved mood, or the like, the day after effect from giving blood has not been there.     Call it my imagination, but even the “slight stick, then some burning” they warn you about has not hurt so much.   Who knew?    And all from a little R&R on the treadmill.

So, is it easier to give, no matter the object (blood, money, time, etc) by how we choose to live?    I think maybe so.

Jesus shed some blood as well, and his choice has given life to us all.    I dare say, He would not/could not have done so had He chosen to live differently than He did.    And He did have a choice:

Philippians 2:5-7 In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.

Funny thing about choices: you have to keep making them.   They are not one and done.    I have to live for today.     I have to choose how I live.   

Lets help each other make good choices, today (and tomorrow), what do you say?   It could be a life giving decision…

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