Dreams of travelling and the Good News' painful journeys.

     As I lay here, 2:30ish in the morning, I am daydreaming. I dream I am giving a lecture. I want everyone to have as much proof as is possible about what I am about to reveal. Get out your cell phones everyone. Google this photo. An SS soldier from such and such time. As they do it I am also doing so on the projector for all to see. In this historical picture is a German soldier from WWII era with a long blonde pony tail. Next I have them look up a picture from long ago of a man in Asia with a long blonde pony tail. We do this with many other pictures. I tell everyone to screen shot each picture so they can study them later. For those of you reading this I think you all know that I have long blonde ponytailed hair. Now everyone can see me, can see that these pictures look remarkably similar to me. So I have them punch my name into the Google machine and see the pictures that pop up.

     There are many more strange pictures to be found like these. Some are photos and some are  other pre camera media. As I lay here I dream my wife and I were travelling and as we did so we found ourselves suddenly in these different places and/or times. Sometimes we travelled together and others alone. I am comparing to the only thing my mind can immediately conjur. The apostle Phillip as he was with the Ethiopian leader and then was whisked away. Not the only instance in the Bible of a person being here and then boom, there. This is the one that seemed to resonate. For it wasn't that God had just decided that I would make an awesome traveller of time and distance but that in each instance I had taken the Good News to someone who had no other to receive it from.

     I kept hearing Paul. I've got to get to Rome. And the people discouraging him. But Paul, if you go to Rome you will be put in chains, you will be beaten, you will probably die there. But I must. I must go to Rome. For to Paul there was something much bigger than he. He would get to tell the most powerful folks in the world about God. About Jesus. About Salvation. Nothing else could matter.

     I think we place too much value on this life. We as Christians place too much value on this life. A missionary is taken captive in a Communist or Islamic/Muslim nation and we go to war to get them released. We would have hand cuffed Paul to the railing of the boat to keep him from Rome. Is it not God who moves people so they can share the gospel where they never dreamed? To share with people we could never reach? On one hand we read a non-fiction book of a man who was imprisoned for his faith and every day or week got to witness to a high ranking person unreachable any other way and then through the lens of history we see how that one person's actions caused ripples throughout history. How men and lives and countries were changed by the Gospel. But when it happens in our time.....we do everything in our power to undo what God is doing. To right a great injustice. How can we let a man of God be imprisoned by evil men? Like Paul and Jesus and John the Baptist and nearly all the disciples who readily gave up their lives for something greater. How have we lost sight of the greater picture?

     I believe in a powerful God. One who is still doing mighty things. He is reaching Muslim men in dreams. In a given day more miracles will happen than are recorded in all of scripture. Have we become so dull? Can we not See?

     I don't think God wastes much time in my life. When I see things they have purpose. Maybe only to remind me, and you, of the bigger picture. Maybe you begin to see pictures of men long ago that look convincingly like me. Maybe.....

Freedom. Much more difficult than captivity.

     Sometimes freedom is the hardest thing of all. You may have escaped a cult. Maybe that one sin is finally behind you. Or life has been so busy there wasn't time for fellowship or ministry and now life has released its grip. An abusive relationship is finally in the rear view mirror. I mean, I'm sure there's a million ways life can strangle us, but now we are free. Finally free. I can do anything I want. The allure of freedom. There may be no more of a terrifying thing and yet the smell, that beautiful fragrance of days gone by, of mothers apple pie in the kitchen window a million years ago. I love that smell. It is possibility, the perfect lover, the winning lottery ticket, an ice cold Coke on a beautiful summers day. But there's a catch.....

     I'm not sure what God wants of me now. It was all so easy back there. And now, now I have Grace. What does that mean? I don't have to do anything but I have to do something. What is It? What direction do I move? How do I know?

     I have spent so much of my life tied to that sin. I would have given anything to escape. Now I'm here. I'm free. My dreams are realized. But, I don't know what to do with myself. I have all this time. What do people do with this much time? I can eat this. I can drink that. I can go there. I can sleep under the stars. But what do i have to Do? I don't understand what I'm supposed to do? I feel lost.

     I was the raging river thrashing about, breaking trees and rocks alike and now I'm here at the bottom. A lake of calmness, barely moved by the evening breeze. This isn't what I wanted. That prison was terrible. I needed to escape. But this prison. I did not see this coming. Imprisoned in freedom.

     I missed people soo much. It made me sick. I missed fellowship. I hated that I had to let go of relationships cause there just wasn't time for people. Oh sure, I could meet with you and listen to your problem. I could pray with you. And then, I might see you again in six months. I see you every Sunday and my heart longs to be near you. To know the cry of your heart. To let you help me carry some of the broken pieces of my heart. Shared celebration of our victories. But it can't be. It seems like it will never be. So I closed off those places of my heart. I barricaded them all the while looking forward to the time I could finally pull the nails out and remove each board.

     Woohoo! It's finally time. Now where's my hammer? The nail puller, a pry bar, cat's claw, anything. Nothing? I know I have tools somewhere. I'm just not sure though. I mean if I pull those boards down then anyone will be able to get in. Anyone. It would be nice to spend time with Tod. But Tod hasn't really made an effort to be around me. Or I could join the Saturday men's group. It's not the same group I was in and I don't know most of the guys. Oh man, I know I need to do something but everything is so scary. I don't want to get hurt again. I mean it wasn't their fault. I left the group. These aren't even the same guys. But I keep getting hurt. And I just can't keep getting hurt. I can't take any more. I really need fellowship. I really need to grow. I need to open the word with others. I need that excitement again. But, I don't know. I need to go slow. I don't know what I need. I don't know how to get it. I don't know where it's at. I probably wouldn't know it if I tripped over and fell face first into it.

     I'm terrified. I know God has great plans for me. I wonder how much I've missed out on, how much others have lost out on. That guilt tears me up if I let it and yet I still can't move. Won't move. Lord help me. I. There it is. The problem. I. It's all about me. I can't escape me.

     One day this will all be changed. One day I will look back and say, I am so thankful for what God did there. My life would not be what it is if I had not gone through that. I will see the need. I will see the value. Mostly though, I will be far enough away to see it in the larger picture. For now though, I can only hope. Hope that it will make sense. Hope that I won't be where I am forever. Hope. Hope that I have a greater story. Hope that I won't continue to F it all up. I don't feel hopeful. I have been through storms before so history tells me that hope is coming. I just dont see it.

     Some of you have been so amazing. Many of you have stepped in at just the right time. So thank you all of you who have heard the whisper of the Holy Spirit and taken time to breath some life into this old man. Young man. Middle man?

     I have been accused of tmi on some of my blog posts. This time however, I am feeling really exposed. That is easy when I am strong and moving with the Lord. But I am anything but strong now. Do I share This? Do I let the whole world in to my inner weakness? I don't really want to. I'm going to but I don't want to. I'll click share and go out and work for a bit before picking up my daughter on her last day of school. Oh, and there is no Tod, but maybe you are Tod. And now goodbye.

Allergies

     Do you ever have that cereal box, you know, you push the bag down and fold the flaps together and let go and it pops open? So you push in the sides of the box, fold it again and poof, it pops open again. I'm sitting at the table with a box of Kleenex. I'm done eating and there's this growing pile of used tissue next to me. I dry my eyes, blow my nose a couple times, then rest my head in my hands. Like that box of cereal I feel defeated. Not by life. Not work or laundry or another rainy day. Nope. I'm defeated by something invisible. Some seasonal something that reaches out from places unknown and turns me into a blubbering mess of tissue and sneezing.

     C.S. Lewis said if you don't feel like doing something do it anyways and after doing it a bit you'll start feeling it. If you dont feel like worship just sing anyways. If you dont feel happy start smiling anyways. He says after a bit your actions will influence your mood. Well allergies use this principle in reverse. I feel just fine but my eyes wont stop tearing up. It doesnt take long and i feel like going to a quiet private space and bawling my head off. Let it all out. But there's nothing to let out. My allergies are lying to me.

     I have a customer job waiting in the shop. Breakfast still needs to be put away. The cereal box just sits there taunting me. Tissue pile still growing. There's plenty of stuff that needs to be done. Here I am still paralyzed by these invisible hooligans, well that and typing this out on my phone. Gotta go. Gotta get moving. Ugh. Just ugh.

A work in progress

     I'm polishing a pair of bike rims. They are for a bike that will be sold to fund a car project. I have to take them apart and put back together one spoke at a time. You'd think that might be the hard part but it's definitely the polishing. Basically polishing is sanding with a really fine substance until the surface being polished is a smooth as can be. Any imperfection will ruin the finish. Bike rims are already flat so piece if cake, right? These gave a grained finish, kinda like the grooves on a record but much smaller. And they take forever.

     I'm so close to being done. Each little imperfection takes so long to remove so I stand there patiently going back and forth and back and forth. My first thought today was, are you using this to prepare me for something God? If so, I don't want it. Anything that is this hard and takes this long, anything that I hate doing and I want to quit over and over, anything that you'd use this to prepare me for would be infinitely harder than what I'm doing now. Um, no thanks.

     The last person to live at our house was, I was gonna say Taniesha, but I guess it was D. If you've been to our house you know it is on the small side. We've had someone live in the shop for a while. Chris's parents for a year and a half,  half in camper, and half parked in front of tv. My dad lived in trailer out back for too long. T at least had a room. We've had people crash on the couch for various amounts of time. I hated it. Every single time was miserable. This is my space, my place, my sanctuary. My tv. One shared bathroom. I've hated every single time my space was invaded, but I've continued to offer it up. We have said no a few times. But yet most times we have sacrificed our comfort for others. God always builds on the things in our lives so what will come next?

     I'm still polishing. Back and forth, back and forth, will this little bugger ever polish out so I can go to the next? Then I realize this rim is me and God is the one looking at the imperfection wondering, how long will you hold on to this Jethro? I'd really like to move onto bigger and better things with you but you just won't let go.

     When we were in the youth group there was this girl M. She was about 13 or so when we met. I don't know how or why but somehow God connects people in an unexplainable way. Chris and I are connected to her. She may not feel that toward us and that's ok but she will always have a special place in our hearts. Shes all grown up now, husband and kids i think, but if the phone rang and she was on the other end we would not hesitate to be there for her. That's got to be the Father heart of God. It certainly isn't me.

     45 years now God has been polishing on me and I'm guessing I look about like the rusty trucks in my back yard. I see the potential though. I look at each of those trucks and I see something special.

Just kinda thinking about why I'm such a jerk sometimes.

     The other day my wife made an off hand remark that my love language is personal time. Now I've not read the five love languages, I know, I know, I should,  but when she said that it was a chord that began to resound in me.

     There have been times in the past, I know especially this past year, where I have not treated my friends well. One of my struggles has been working on friends' cars. Now I don't mind doing this and I need the money. The problem has been that I really want people to come over and hang out. So things might go kinda like this. Jim brings his car over and we talk for an hour then he leaves and over the next couple of days I work on the car. He picks it up and we josh for a few minutes and he leaves. Great experience. Some time later Jim calls cuz his car is broke again. I want to spend an hour or two bs'ing but Jim just wants to know when he can drop it off. I've wanted to spend time with Jim since the last time six weeks ago but life is busy and we don't make the time. So I offer to work on it. He drops it off, I say a total of about two words, Chris takes the keys while I stare at the ground or go back inside. I fix it, text the total when done and manage to be elsewhere when Jim comes to get it. Now I feel like I'm Jim's mechanic whore and he probably feels I just want him for his money.

     I have tried to figure out why I do this. My wife's comment about needing personal time added another piece to the puzzle. A piece I'd already found is Aspergers. I need consistency. I need regular routine. Things need to fit in regular boxes. When someone is there and then they're not, like when summer break starts or ends, it takes weeks to adjust. Sometimes much longer. When someone is in my life sporadically it's hard to know how to manage that. How much do I invest? If i invest deeply and then they are not around what do i do with that? Maybe i refuse to invest but then i see them regularly. Am i a total jerk now? To some of you this might seem silly. If you don't get it I don't blame you. I often don't get it either. I don't simply want to be a jerk all the time. I've kinda given in to that as my default setting. Remember when the Terminator would be injured? We would see him working through a list of options to restore power. Often this is me. I look through all the options and often I just choose quit. Leave. Hide in the car. Take a nap. It's like if I'm gonna fail I might as well just quit now. It takes a lot of effort to try so if failure is likely I should just abort now. I guess I'm kinda just avoiding pain. I've learned to live with being a jerk. Sometimes it hurts more but that's just the way it has to be.

     I don't know how to end this. There is no solution yet, no Jesus fixed it, hallelujah! so far. My wife tries her best to help. To smooth things sometimes, to let me escape other times. Anyway, if I've treated you poorly and your reading this it is not an excuse. You deserve better. I'm sorry. I got talking to her about it and she said, you should write about this so here it is. I hope you get something out of this. Maybe you feel really screwed up and now not feeling quite so alone. Maybe you simply have a clue now why Jethro is so difficult sometimes. It's about bedtime now and I'm down to 10% battery so thanks for reading, bye.

Daydreaming in full color

     I sit here slumped in my kitchen chair letting my mind run free. The last bit of milk in my bowl colorfully sprinkled by cinnamon and the invisible bits of sugar, all that remains of cinnamon toasters. My trusty steed of caramelized, carbonated, blackened sugar water is only a third drunk. A good start to the day, indeed. My little Emma is home watching cartoons. Last night her little body violently excorcised every thing she has eaten in her four years I think. It was a remarkable show. And me, I do what I do every day of my life, I dream.

     Do I list all the things I dream of that I can't afford? There's the obvious roof needing repair. And the Disney World vacation Chris and the kids have been dreaming of. Not out of reach forever, but for now. But that's not what occupies my thoughts this beautifully cold and sunny morning. No, it is a desire to succeed with car projects. To make money at what I love. To be able to build these hot rods and custom toys and for that to support my family. Not fully but in some portion.

     I had a daydream a couple days ago. I dreamt that the 3 older kids would grow up and move on and we would begin to adopt other kids. A grand idea indeed. I've thought about how much adoption costs. About how we've not adopted Emma even due to cost. About how we would need a larger house, with a good roof. About how easy it is to say go, but how much greater the obligation is than seems. About how forever forever is. I've even thought about telling my wife about this. Catastrophic the consequences could be. She might just say go. Let's do it! That would just be the worst best, best worst thing possible.

     The way I remember it (the super incredible amazing awesome woman I call wife may have differing memories), chris's mom had wanted to have 16 kids. They had 2, which left the number 14 to us. We went to a friend's house for fellowship one night and a woman prophesied to me that we would have 14 kids. Now I don't take this for gospel. Like Mary though, who treasured all these things in her heart according to Luke's gospel, I keep this bit of prophecy in a special place in my heart.

     Of course, you gotta know I didn't plan on blathering on about all this adoption nonsense when I picked up my phone and started typing. Yes, nonsense. It has to be nonsense right? I simply was dwelling on the facts. Like how I have two project trucks needing to go together and get sold yet I don't have the capital to put either one together. History tells me, my history, that money procured to do just this will somehow go other places and trucks will not sell for what they should and I never seem to be able to work it all out.

     So now that I've exhausted an entire hour of life writing this I guess it's time to get back to laundry. Maybe even do some work. Got a Coke and dirty bowl waiting. See ya.