Coffee Is The Morning Lubricant

Eating my evening bowl of cereal I wonder why ritual is so calming.  Every morning the first thing I do is turn on the coffeemaker. Some vehemently insist I set the timer—but I don’t. The measuring out of the coffee, the adding of water and the final press of the button are part of a ritual that transitions me from sleep to workday. Coffee bars have built a business on tying ritual to stimulant.

Every coffee joint has ‘regulars’ that purchase the same drink the same days of the week. It’s only partially about the caffeine. I have roughly the same conversation with the ‘regulars’ everyday; “Investors are coming by this morning. Give me an extra Lemon-poppy. Did it get this hot last April?” I work the morning shift. The customers come in to transition from their home to their workday. Coffee is the lubricant between the two.

There is that electrical charge that comes from the first sip of the latte. It’s heightened because the work day adrenaline is beginning to flow. Night is slipping away, dopamine is almost fully flushed from bloodstream and cells are flowing faster. Fully transitioned the last bit of coffee is inhaled as the elevator stops on the office floor.
Photo courtesy of Waferboards photostream on Flickr. 

Pinterest Exists To Make People Salivate

In my twenties some friends told me to drive through a certain seedy part of San Francisco much like you would recommend one take a trip to the circus. Their word of warning was not to leave the car and not to walk on the sidewalk because, “They will forcibly pull you into their establishments.” Contentment is that field trip turned on its head.

Culture is like the seedy establishments in that San Francisco neighborhood. Magazines in the grocery store scream out, “Buy me. You need me. An experience to remember!” Then the answer seems simple: Don’t walk by the magazine stands. What about those social media sights? I have friends on Facebook that fly places I can never afford and stay at hotels I’ll never see in the flesh. Pinterest exists to make people salivate. The object is to make Boards full of the house you wish you had, the hair you wish you had, the mate you wish you had---and the wardrobe you wish the mate you wish you had- had. Ah, you say, but those are worldly web sites and I’m aware of the danger. What of the more sinister dangers?

We live in a small rental in a less than perfect neighborhood. It meets our budget. It meets our needs. We feel God has provided this house specifically for us for this season. Still we hear voices say to us, “You need a bigger house. You need a place you can feel safe. Wouldn’t an updated kitchen be wonderful?” The words come from well meaning folks in our larger circle of friends. It’s that constant nudge toward more. It’s that push toward want and away from need.

Maintaining an attitude of contentment requires vigilance. It must be cultivated along with a heart attitude that is thankful for what one has not bitter about what one doesn’t have. So enjoy Pinterest but recognize that the things on those boards come with a price. That price may be sour grapes and a spirit of envy.

The Breeze That Cools Our Day

My customer, Bob, had spent this Sunday morning talking to his 90 year old mother who resides in Florida. After getting his morning cup-a-Joe he was going home to call a friend that he’s had since they were five years old. He told me, “We are the last two remaining of our circle of ten.” Bob is somewhere between sixty-five and seventy years old. That’s the bittersweet thing. His mother and him have made it farther than some. There is richness in celebrating that.


As I write a breeze cools the night air and lifts up a plastic tablecloth covering one of the many round kitchen-tables at Cindy’s never ending Vintage Yard Sale. The table sits amongst the purple and yellow flowers comprising her garden. Life is full of matchless moments that are life affirming. Like that cool breeze after today's first double-digit temperatures they restore our perspective.

Friends and family are like those cool breezes. It is a gift to make those connections. These bonds buoy us up when we are down. They provide opportunity for reflection and to share the heights, depths and doldrum days that life gives us. What a blessing to celebrate those unions that comprise our lives. While Cindy’s Vintage yard sale may last forever, Bob’s comment was a reminder to delight in the blessings given us today.

Yellowstone And Change

“Ever since he had been military governor of Texas shortly after the Civil War, Sheridan had advocated the slaughter of the bison herds across the West as a way to starve the region’s American Indian tribes into submission.  He often expressed praise for the buffalo hunters, who killed an estimated 31 million bison between 1868 and 1881.”---Rocky Barker, Scorched Earth: How The Fires Of Yellowstone Changed America.

I am a man of strong opinion as was Phil Sheridan. I have my views on most things and believe I’m right on all of them. I am proud to be an American. Though not a radical conservationist I believe we should take care of our environment. I am in favor of a strong federal government but believe most issues should be a matter for each state. It is good for me to read history and wrestle with these concepts.

Yellowstone is a favorite national park. The family and I have visited it twice in the last ten years. I am glad that it is pristine; I am glad that there are huge packs of bison roaming freely in the park as well as elk, bear and other wildlife. Yet I believe that hunting is important for food and to maintain the ecosystem.

The American views of Native Americans, hunting and national parks have changed in the last 150 years. As an individual I must be willing to change as well as I wrestle with concepts---even allowing that not all things are always black and white but being principled in all places is what matters.

Thoughts Of A 52 Year Old On The Way To Becoming Alive

Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat. ---Theodore Roosevelt

Knowing what makes you come alive isn’t a one stop process like buying a burger. It’s a series of stops, starts and turns with some dead-ends tossed in. Speaking of tossing it may even resemble a salad more than a burger; a combination of different items that fit together as one. The search will be incredibly rewarding. The search will be demoralizing as well because fully coming alive isn’t an earthly possibility.

I’m fifty two years old and still searching. Wonderfully I know much more now about what makes me come alive. Part of me feels I should have it down pat by now. Yet the list of artists and inventors that had ‘epic fails’ before massive success includes: Henry Ford, Soichiro Honda, Harland David Sanders, Winston Churchill, Oprah Winfrey and many others. There is significant comfort to be had in that. There is great delight in the pursuit and perseverance of a life alive.

One pictures Jacob wrestling with God until he was blessed. The narrative states that Jacob’s thigh was dislocated by God. Perhaps our search for coming alive through our gifts, talents and convictions requires a wrestling with who God is knowing that we may be bruised (or worse) in the process. At the end Jacob was blessed and so we shall be as well.

Working On Giving Thanks And Not Grumbling

It’s easy to grumble. In one of his letters the apostle Paul says to do everything without grumbling. God’s really been working the opposite direction with me---to be thankful and content. He’s even doing it through comments on previous posts! Not that I have it down at all. I haven’t arrived. I’m just trying to move that direction.

This summer the wife and I are planning a short trip to Guatemala to visit some missionaries. I’m guessing that will open our eyes and broaden our perspective. That’s what we’re hoping.

On a side note: Have you ever noticed how much sleep, diet and exercise fit into having a healthy attitude? I notice that on days where I didn’t sleep well I am much more apt to be distracted, unfocused and unthankful.

You have a front row seat. Feel free to kick me as needed. I’ll try not to complain if you do.

Coming Home Part 2

Whether you go out on the town for the day or are gone for a week to a distant country; there is nothing like coming home. The house may be small with imperfections or mansion like with all the fixtures. Still there is something about the bathroom where you can find everything, where you know the quirks of the faucet handle and where the hand-towel is. There is a comfort in plopping down on your own couch then finally getting up and climbing into your own bed beneath crisp sheets and atop a pillow that’s accustomed to your head. You can let your hair down in your own home more than anyplace else in the universe.


Home is a safe place; or should be. We’ve encountered houses that weren’t homes. We’ve come home to a place that wasn’t safe where relaxation wasn’t possible because one had to keep our guard up just that little bit. This was coming to a place where you lived but really it wasn’t coming home. Your stuff was there but your nemesis was there too, in whatever form it came, work, drink, money problems, addiction or maligning spouse. It was a place that you lived and so you called it home.

It’s never the perfectly safe place or the fulfillment of all creature comforts. We want the escape from pressure and the complete retreat from the world. The children of God will one day experience this. We are promised a place imperishable and undefiled that will not fade away. Perfect rest will be met there and perfect comfort and fulfillment will be ours to experience. For now though the coming home is sweet, the couch perfect and the bed---oh, the bed at the end of the day!

A Merciful Pathway

“Those who believe in Jesus Christ and are justified by faith and become the children of God are not taken out of this world of woe, but are given the grace to experience the very judgments of God on the human race as the merciful pathway to holiness and heaven rather than sin and hell.”---John Piper

One doesn’t have to look farther than the recent earthquake in China (188 dead, 11,000 injured at last count) to confirm that we live in a world of woe. The sane reaction is to groan, to pray and to give if possible to relief. The other reaction is of course to ignore it and go on living. How we react to tragedy mirrors what is going on inside of us and which highway we are on.

On a smaller scale we deal with those around us that wrestle with significant physical suffering. Certainly we can not understand all the components of the suffering nor fully identify with the ones that suffer. Our challenge is to give of ourselves in ways that feel like death to us that others may live life a little more.

In our day to day dealings with the manifestations of fallenness in others and the brokenness of daily living choosing right responses is incumbent upon us as children of light. There will be many that will take the easy way and respond in kind to unkindness or throw up fist or finger when their cheek is slapped. Travelers on the road to holiness and heaven call on heaven’s strength to respond differently.

The world is a place of woe which we see manifest in so many forms. The saving grace is to remember that we are citizens of heaven. Holiness of heart and character are our goal. Knowing which path we are on will help us know how our heart and hands will respond to this groaning broken place we currently call home.

Timeline 5th Grade

Our life is like a good puzzle---if we examine it close enough we will see all the connections and how they fit together. Yesterday I began charting my life on a timeline where the crisis (A crucial or decisive point or situation; a turning point) are delineated. Thus my brain has been working on the problem overnight and this morning I had an epiphany. 5th grade was a key point in my life.


In Mr. Warner’s class I sat across from Sam and Gary. Both of them were in Boy Scouts. As I remember it they regaled me week after week with stories about hikes they took and adventures they had. It wasn’t long before I went home and asked my mom if I could join Boy Scouts with them. That journey would take me through high school and change the way I saw the world.

Mr. Lence pushed all of us toward leadership. This meant learning to speak publicly and to organize other scouts in activities and plan weekend camp-outs. I still remember him instructing us that when teaching or speaking one has to, “paint the cat black,” that is, to delineate the lessons clearly and visibly. Thus began my move up the ranks; leading meetings, planning camp-outs, making menus and motivating my fellow scouts to obey and chip-in as a team; a great experience for a shy, scared boy with low self-esteem. My character rounded there was one other place that Scouting got a hold of me. I went from crush and infatuation to a full on love for the outdoors.

Scouting took me around Catalina in canoe and down the Colorado by the same means; it took me through many canyons and up many peaks in the Sierra as well as into wilderness areas as far as Montana. I learned to carry a backpack and eat whatever was placed in front of me. Most of all I grew to enjoy and feel comfortable with myself in the outdoors.

Flash back to Mr. Warners’ class. Do you remember picking teams for sports in 5th grade? I was usually the last one picked as I was small with asthma and hardly the athletic type (though I made up for this lack of comfort at school on Boy Scout backpacking trips). One day I got talking to the other kid that nobody picked. His name was Keith. We grew to be close friends, then I grew close to his brother and his brothers’ circle of friends. Keith and I don’t talk much anymore but his brother Kevin and Kevins’ friend John were groomsmen in my wedding.

Forty years later and connections made in my 5th grade year still have a deep and rich affect on my life today. The friends I made then influence me today and rippled through my high school and college years into wider circles of friends and adventures emanating from those connections. In the same way those initial steps into Scouting were steps into manhood though it took me years to see it. Even as my love for the outdoors is richly embroidered into who I am so too those 5th grade experiences forever changed my life.

The Timeline: Childhood Asthma, a Looking Glass, and The Girls Next Door

Here’s the assignment for tonight: Draw a timeline of your life highlighting the crisis events that culminated in who you are today (H/t Donald Miller and his Storyline Blog). It’s a bit daunting isn’t it? How do you know what’s important? The other concern: Are you going to highlight only the good stuff? The bad stuff? The other thought is that it’s different if you create it to share or if you do it in the privacy of your own living room---because some of those crisis points are exceedingly personal (mine are anyway). For tonight I will pick three. Perhaps I will add to my timeline in an additional post.


My childhood asthma was so severe that I rocked myself to sleep to escape the pain and fear. I would rock so violently that I would move my bed across the room. I was rushed to the emergency room six times. The asthma attacks were anxiety producing and painful. I believe that those times produced in me mental and physical perseverance (among other traits). Asthma goes on the timeline.

My neighbor had a magnifying glass that folded into a smooth leather pouch. The glass was enclosed in a ring of brass. It was beautiful, practical and fun for burning things. My neighbor left it out one day and I stole it. This was my first realization that I could do evil. That realization was foundational in recognizing that I was a sinner. The magnifying glass goes on the timeline.

The boy with the magnifying glass moved away and a family full of girls moved into the house next door. They were teenagers while my sister and I were in kindergarten and first grade. Thus they came over to watch us when mom was busy. Somehow they also had a hand in teaching us to swim which largely meant being thrown into the deep end of the pool. It was a horrible experience. Somehow it took. I grew to love swimming in water of any kind. I’ll add learning to swim.

I’ve worked my way all the way up to the age of six. I’m out of breath. I’ll focus in on additional events in a later post. Sink or swim I’ll continue adding to the timeline next time.