My Mythology of Rain

I went to worship experience different than most I've experienced last week. It was similar to a house church, but also decidedly Methodist, too. From their website:

Kuneo is a new kind of worship gathering. Hosted at the Union Coffee House near SMU, the Village, and Lower Greenville in Dallas, Kuneo seeks to show the love of Jesus in a creative, compassionate, and communal gathering of people on the journey that we call "faith."

During the gathering last week, the theme centered on knowing your story, the church knowing its story, and then living out that story. We all have a story, and as was implied, that story converges, for all, with Christ.
So I left that gathering thinking about my story.

...

I am a little behind on the entertainment phenomenon that is Game of Thrones. We do not have HBO at home, so I have never seen an episode of the series, but I do have a library card. So I checked out the first book in the series.

I'm about a quarter of the way through the book as I write this, and I've come across a recurring theme regarding the Dothraki people in the story: the important things in a man's life always occur under the open sky.

I got to thinking about that, and it occurred to me that our family has a similar mythology. Except our mythology says that the important things in a man's life always occur in the rain.

Here are a few examples:

• When I was a child I had a major surgery that would come to define the things I could and could not do. The day I was released from the hospital, we drove home in a light, steady rain.
• The day of my wedding, a deluge nearly forced us to switch transportation from automobiles to boats.
• On the day we unloaded the moving van when we moved to San Antonio so I could start at my first "real" job, we unloaded the van in the rain.
• On the day we brought our first child home from the hospital, it was raining.
• And there was that camping trip. I think it was the last time we went camping as a family.

There are other moments like these that have graced our family, but these five stick with me most clearly. Each one of them represented a new direction that required new challenges and new skills. 

There is little hope of rain in these parts for the next six weeks or so, but every time it rains, I can't help but wonder what new direction life will take us, what new challenges we will face, what new skills we will need to learn. Rain is our omen of things to come, I just don't know what's coming. 

And that is awesome!

Baconescence: A Miracle!

Bacon is more than just an awesome food. Bacon is medicine. I explored its medicinal qualities several months ago in a post entitled: What if bacon is actually good for us? In an experiment with my nephew, we were able to isolate bacon as the anti-viral element that cured him of the flu.

That was six months ago. I have not been able to identify any other cases quite as dramatic as that one since then, but that is probably because bacon is a staple of our family's diet and of those dear to us. My mother-in-law is the exception here. She has had some kind of abdominal problem and refuses to adopt the "Take two bacon and call me in the morning" approach. She has not been well for months.

Tyra Banks loves her some bacon

Just within the past week, though, we've had a bacon cure miracle. So far, that miracle has not been verified by the Congregation for the Causes of Bacon, but I expect that to just be a matter of course. So what was this miracle of Bacon, you ask?

Here's the story:

A family member, by marriage, (let's call him Chris) was hastily transported to my house by his friend and landlord. He had been experiencing severe abdominal cramps and the disgusting stuff that comes with said cramps. The symptoms came in waves and the waves came about every 11 minutes. He was a little frightened by the whole thing and just wanted to suffer with people nearby, rather than to suffer alone. The original destination was to be the hospital, but after starting to feel a bit better, they diverted to our house.

Less than a minute after entering the house, he walked hurriedly back outside, for yet another bout of stomach malady. That was his last episode of acute abdominal distress. Period.

A few minutes later, he came back inside.

Here is the miraculous part.

A full day prior, my son, a journeyman bacon preparer in his own right, cooked himself some bacon. He is not the best at maintaining a clean cooking environment, and the smell of warm bacon grease stayed in the house well into the following day. The bacon effluvium still lingered as Chris arrived.

We waited approximately 11 minutes to see if another wave of cramps and nausea recurred. It did not. We waited another 11 minutes. Still nothing. In the meantime I got all the day's laundry folded and sorted.

Chris drank some water.

Eleven minutes later, still nothing.

Another 22 minutes with no symptoms and I brought him back home.

The only thing that the miracle investigative committee could find that might be related to his sudden and complete cure was the lingering smell of bacon.

Not only does bacon have anti-viral qualities, but I believe that even just the faint remnant of bacon fragrance has the ability to improve the health of the flora of the gut. Hence, the immediate cessation of Chris' abdominal distress.

Eat more bacon!

Don't Kill the Bees

A couple of weeks ago, on a Thursday, I went to the nearby grocery store to purchase a few things so we could grill some burgers and hot dogs. We were having just a few friends and family over to the house and did not quite have enough food to feed everyone.

I took my teen-aged son with me. Actually he insisted. Apparently I do not buy the right junk food.

In the mean time, the greatest woman on God's green earth (GWGGE) went to the home improvement store to get some things to keep the mosquitoes at bay.

The boy and I were almost done with our shopping trip, finishing up in the beer aisle (no good outdoor gathering is complete without some nice cold beer) when I get a call from the GWGGE. Here is how the conversation went, as heard by the grocery store shoppers around me.

Me: What's up?

Me: I don't know?

Me: Get the natural stuff

Me: No, the other stuff

Me: No! the natural stuff!

Me: We have to protect the bees, Honey!

Me: No! DON"T KILL THE BEES!

Me: Okay

Me: Okay

Me: Bye, love you.

Needless to say, strange looks from the other shoppers combined with a slightly embarrassed teenager meant that we quickly made our way to the checkout line and out the store.

Fast forward a couple of days later...

Shadow, the dog, loves to bark at squirrels. He loves to chase squirrels. He loves to hunt squirrels. But I think he learned to hunt from those shows on the Discovery Channel where they tag the prey and release it, because, he looks very confused when he catches his prey. Up to this point, Shadow was 0 for 3,486 in his hunt for squirrels. He has cornered a bunny rabbit, a few toads, and a number of insects, though.

There I was in the back yard and Shadow is, much to my surprise, barking at squirrels. But something is different this time. The squirrel seems to be taunting him, staying low on the tree. Suddenly, Shadow jumps up and pins the squirrel by the tail against the trunk of the tree.

I bark the command, "Leave It!"

Shadow, in his confusion, and in one motion, drags the squirrel to the ground and turns to look at me.

He looks back at the squirrel on the ground. Looks at me. I say sternly, "Come here!"

Shadow looks back one more time, not quite sure what to think of his fallen prey, and trots over to me.

I put Shadow in the house, and go inside to report the events that just occurred to the current occupants of the house, GWGGE and her sister. The younger son was in the house, too, but since it was only 11:30 in the morning, he was still fast asleep.

Together sister-in-law and I go out to the fallen squirrel and ponder its condition. It is alive, but there is something wrong with the way its legs are moving. After much consideration of the previous events, we determine that Shadow did not mortally injure the squirrel, but that the squirrel was sickly before its encounter with the dog.

Sister-in-law returns to the safety of the house as I go to do what a man's got to do.

I put the squirrel out of its misery, and add its carcass to the growing collection of critters now buried in the Pet Cemetery out behind the workshop.

All events as traumatic as this require closure for those involved. We had to come to conclusions about the poor squirrel's death, Shadow's innocence, and the distastefulness of the deed I had to do. In the course of determining Shadow's innocence we decided the squirrel was already suffering from some sort of neurological malady prior to the events detailed above. I think the final conclusion we reached came from sister-in-law, who said, "I think it was the bug spray you sprayed a few days ago that made the squirrel sick."

Some related news on bees and pesticides:
25,000 Bees Found Dead In Oregon Parking Lot, Environmental Organization Says
Oregon Issues Temporary Pesticide Ban Following Bee Deaths
50,000 dead Oregon bees to be honored in memorial service

"It's my life, and I can do what I want with it!"

Dad: "NO! It's NOT your life!"

Teenager: "Yes. It is and I can do with it whatever I want to. I can even end it."

Dad: "Did you start it?"

Teenager: "No."

Dad: "Then it is not your right to end it. And by the way your mom and I did not create your life either.

Your life is a gift. Your life is not for your own pleasure. It was given to you for a different reason, it was given to you so that you could discover your true purpose, your true identity."

Teenager: "WTF are you talking about?"

Dad: "You have a purpose, and your life was given to you so that you could discover that purpose, so go find your purpose! Don't be a coward and give up before you've even started. Before you know who you are."

Teenager storms out of the room, mind blown. 

The conversation is just starting. There is much the youngster still has to learn. "Your life is not your own" is just the first obstacle to overcome, and is perhaps the hardest, but also the easiest. There is no possibility of redemption or salvation until you understand that this life is not yours, it is the property of its creator.

It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honour of kings is to search out a matter. The heaven for height, and the earth for depth, and the heart of kings is unsearchable. Take away the dross from the silver, and there shall come forth a vessel for the finer. Take away the wicked from before the king, and his throne shall be established in righteousness. Put not forth thyself in the presence of the king, and stand not in the place of great men: For better it is that it be said unto thee, Come up hither; than that thou shouldest be put lower in the presence of the prince whom thine eyes have seen . - Proverbs 25:2-7

On the Day of Judgment, Jesus is our Redeemer and Savior, there are no accomplishments a man can present before God and be declared righteous and worthy. Only Christ is able the be judged and found worthy.

Your life is not your own. It belongs to the Creator. It is redeemed by His messiah. Your purpose is to accept this truth and repent.

Bananas, Organic and Locally Grown

I needed some sweet potatoes. I needed them to serve with a steak dinner, and I needed them in order to add sweet potatoes to my vegetable garden. The sweet potatoes had to be organic if I was to use them in the garden, so I had to venture into the local organic grocer ecosystem. We have a small organic grocery store nearby, but this is not your typical Whole Foods. This store leans to the radical edge of organic food grocers.

As with many businesses that promote saving the planet, the organic grocery store is staffed by folks who are true believers. In anticipation of my adventure into this strange world, I had to blend in so as not to arouse suspicion. In order to maintain calm among the natives I wore my Vibram Five Finger shoes, some sweats and I hadn't brushed my teeth or shaved or put on deodorant.  I had to go in with confidence. So I walked in with a distant, spaced-out look on my face. I leisurely ambled over to the produce section. I carefully selected four sweet potatoes. Three to eat, one to use for the garden.

My ruse worked!

I walked up to the only checkout aisle that was open, and I was second in line. A young woman was in front of me with a banana and four dates. She was dressed rather conservatively, in a simple red dress. She had no obvious tattoos, but when I saw her pull out her employee discount card, I understood that she was trying to go out into the world and blend in much as I was trying to do in the organic grocery store. I suspect she entered her native environment for a moment of respite and that the bananas and dates were to be lunch. I did not get too close because I was concerned that I would be found out as an interloper, and out of respect to the conversation she was having with the young man operating the cash register.

The young man behind the cash register had a scraggly beard, long hair pulled up into a type of bun. He was wearing clothing that could have easily been purchased at Whole Earth Provision or Urban Outfitters, and despite only checking out a banana and four dates, the process was a bit of a challenge.

Despite the privacy I tried to give these two in their conversation, I could not help but overhear part of their conversation. I am functional in their native tongue, but not fluent enough to follow the entire conversation, but I did make out one part of the exchange between the two.

Young woman: "Yeah. I like that it's all organic and all, but I wish they could get locally grown bananas."
Young man: "Yeah."

My effort to hide my reaction, which under normal circumstances would have included raucous and nearly hysterical laughter, must have worked. They still did not recognize me as a stranger in their habitat.

Digging Rocks

About 2 months ago, we bought a new home. It is the biggest home Sue and I have ever lived in as a married couple, and it sits on just short of an acre of land. The previous owners had essentially stopped taking care of the grounds about a year ago, so now we have to catch up. Some of our tasks are mundane, some require thought and planning, and some are just plain back breaking. Today's main task was in the back breaking category.

Our back yard has several pathways that are filled with small river stone. One of those pathways leads from the pool to the section of the yard where the pool equipment is hidden behind a fence. We decided that that particular path was in such bad shape; full of weeds, stones spilling into the grass, edging material wandering out of place, that the whole pathway needed to be moved. The other pathways were salvageable and could be refreshed and made to look good. Sue started the project last week. Here is where she left off:

So with a hoe, a wire screen to filter out the dirt, and a flat shovel, I dug into the project. Scoop after scoop of rock and dirt and weeds, till I filled the wagon...twice. I used the load of rocks from the first load to refresh one of the other pathways, but I ran out of time and energy to redistribute the second wagon load. As I finished filling the second wagon full of stone and dirt and weeds, I questioned the point of this exercise. 

But here is the result of scooping rocks: a nice clean path ready for sod and stepping stones instead of the unruly river stone.

Drat! 50 years too late

In the category of there is nothing new under the sun...

When my boys were wee little lads, we had a fascinating discussion about personal weapons of all kinds. Being small boys, they were playing a little game of would you rather... with me. Asking, "Would you rather have an airsoft gun or a paintball gun?" and,"Would you rather have a pistol or a shotgun?" and other similar types of questions.

I was getting tired of the game, so on one of the Would you rather questions, I answered with something completely different. I described to them the perfect defensive weapon. A weapon that could destroy the molecular integrity of any gun or knife or even the projectile that the weapon fired. A weapon of directed sound waves, but a silent weapon that emitted a sound that could not be heard by humans.

I told them how this weapon had not yet been invented, but that if we could invent it, we would be wealthy beyond our wildest dreams.

Well, I was wrong. This weapon had been invented.



Dr. Vladimir Gavreau, a Russian born scientist working in France to develop mechanical drones for the military accidentally discovered just how such a weapon could work.

In the late 50’s and early 60’s Vladimir Gavreau, a robot scientist of Russian birth, and his assistant found that without warning they would become nauseous and have unbearable headaches when working in their lab. As soon as they left the lab the symptoms disappeared immediately.

They knew something in the lab was causing their sickness but had no idea what it was. Eventually, they noticed that a cup of coffee on the bench had strange ripples on it, at the same time as the ripples started they began to feel ill. When the ripples stopped they were fine again.

They found that the illness, and the coffee cup ripples stopped when certain windows were covered over. Extensive inquiries and dozens of tests lead to the discovery that a faulty motor driven ventilator had been installed in the building.

It’s movement had caused an infrasonic resonance, that when coupled with the concrete in the building, formed a huge infrasonic amplifier at a resonance impossible for humans to hear but able to make them ill.

SOURCE