And now the conclusion... Continues!

Whew!

We have really covered some ground! Since the last update, DPM! has covered Virginia, North Carolina, Tennesee, Arkansas, Arizona, Oklahoma, back to Arkansas, Tennessee, North Carolina, then on out to California! Wow! What were we thinking?

To break it down a little, one of our reasons for visiting the East Coast was to see the Atlantic Ocean for the first time in our lives, and more importantly, to scout out what the Raleigh, North Carolina area looked like for some friends who were going to move there. More on the move later.

At the end of the last posting, we had just left Maryland for Virginia Beach, Va. The trip was somewhat eventful, in that everyone around us seemed to have the need to crash into each other. Missey J and I witnessed three(!) different accidents along the way. Ouch! But we arrived unscathed in Newport News, found our hotel, and found out why finding lodging in that area was so tough. The Virginia Beach Neptune Festival was set for that weekend, assuring that all of the beachfront lodging was packed. If you want to see what the hubbub was all about, take a look at http://www.neptunefestival.com/2006/2006sandcastlewinners.htm. You will be amazed at what can be carved out of beach sand. We had a great time!

Our next stop after Va Beach was a reunion with a Pastor friend of mine in the thriving metroplis that is actually the charming small town, Powhatan. We left Newport News early on Sunday and made his Church service with 10 minutes to spare. We then spent the day catching up. Missey J was able to finally meet one of my friends from California, and it was a great time for all. We left that evening for Cary, N. Carolina.

Cary is an interesting place, in that it combines small town American charm with a technology industry that has the rest of the world calling it the East Coast Silicon Valley. The people are friendly, the town is clean, the scenery is beautiful, especially in the fall when we were there. G-d seems to truly be smiling on this area, and we gave Cary an enthusiastic approval to our friends.

Our next stop was Tennessee. We decided that, since we really weren't in a hurry, Knoxville would be a good place to stop and catch our breath. It then occured to me that I had been in this neck of the woods before. I suggested to Missey J that we go down to Chattanooga (I love that name!) to see both the aquarium there and the splender that is Ruby Falls. Missey J had been in caverns before, but an undergroud river complete with a waterfall was something new. And, as soon as the camera dries out, I will post some pictures. Note to any would-be photogs out there: Don't try to take a picture of a waterfall from inside the waterfall. Doah!

After spending a day in Tennessee we then embarked for Texas. We had the thought that, just maybe, we should set sail for home; however, we were unprepared for the sights and sounds of Memphis. The food was awesome. We don't generally indulge in Mexican food (due to my stomach) but in this case we had to try Pancho's at 87 S 2nd St. The food was fantastic. We decided to spend an extra day in Memphis just to take in the local scene.

We discovered, the next morning, where all the WWII "Duck" amphibious assault vehicles went. They are alive and perfectly restored into what is quite possibly the most unique tour bus/boat anyone could imagine. Naturally, we took a tour. Once on board, all the passengers were issued a "duck call", something I will treasure for, oh, a while at least. Anyway, we were able to find out where Sun Recording Studios is located, something I, as a fan of the late Man in Black, found to be interesting. The tour also takes a turn through the local Church Row. Now, while this may seem a little boring, you have to see these churches! They were magnificent edifices, especially the Methodist building. All of these were either 100+ years old or nearly so, and many had taken decades to build. Perhaps most interesting (at least to me) was when we drove off the road and straight into the Mississippi River. Remember, we were in an amphibious tour bus. We were then able to witness, first hand, the Duck's amazing top speed of 4 mph across the river. Ooooooo...
What a quack!

Later that night, after another wonderful meal, we decided to just have a relaxing evening at the hotel. Alas, this was not to be! It seems some lunatic decided to burn down the Methodist Church. We awoke to the smell of smoke in our room. Normally, this is not considered normal atmosphere for a multi-story hotel. Naturally, I felt inclined to investigate whether or not our hotel was, in fact, alite. It wasn't. It seems that the crazy who lit the church up had decided that Hotel Row was a good next target, but his plans were foiled by the Fire Dept as well as the local Police. However, this was not before he had reached the hotel next door (closed for remodelling) and lit it up as well. It was about then that Missey J and I decided that we had seen enough of Memphis, packed our bags, and headed for Good Ol' Texas. 13 uneventful hours later, we were home.

Whew!

On the Road Again, Part II

So where was I?

Oh yeah. The Amana Colonies, Iowa. The place where you can still buy an Amana appliance that is actually made in the USA. Amana is one of those places that cities like Solvang in California only wish they were. Amana has the the generic "gift stores" to be sure, but it also has enough genuine "Amana-ness" (is that a word? I will ask my sister) to set it apart from other more pedestrian tourist traps. An example? There is a furniture store there that is actually the show room for the on-site woodworking factory. While at said factory, I acquired a most hansome inlaid wood cribbage board for Mom and Dad and a brass topped cane for myself. Alas, I could not afford any of the bizzillion dollar Grandfather clocks on display. Oh well.

We were able to meet my wife's sister and her husband for dinner that night at a rather nice restaurant in Amana. Food was served "family style" in that there were big bowls and platters literally overflowing with food. It is a good thing that weight gain isn't of monumental concern...

After leaving Amana, we then ventured into the wilds of Davenport, Ia. We had a most relaxing three day stay with Jody's sister; museums, food, music, food, buying computer stuff, food... Spoiled ourselves rotten. Had a great time.

Upon leaving Iowa, G-d decided we needed to wash the car because that's when the rain started. Ran into everything from slight drizzle to sea state 7. Yikes!

We had never seen the Great Lakes, so our destination became Sandusky, Ohio. Now, we had discussed staying that night in a Bed and Breakfast, only to discover that there were none available. So we found an internet hotspot and looked a little futher out from Sandusky. In Newport, Orange County, Ohio (I am not making this up) we found the most charming B&B, complete with Honeymoon suite, located right off the Ohio Turnpike. Again, we spoiled ourselves rotten, all for the price of a Comfort Inn.

The next morning, we headed out for Sandusky proper, under cloudy but, for the moment at least, dry skies. We found a nice country road which wandered along the waterfront and which, after several twists and turns, got us thoroughly lost. Hey, we weren't in a hurry or anything, but we did kinda want to know where we were... So, we decided to get out, take some pictures (which this blog is steadfastly refusing to load) and generally freeze our tootsies off wandering around an old ferry tie-up just East of Sandusky. We then ventured back out onto a county road we found, which led, inexplicably, two a Six Flags amusement park. We felt severely lost. Being the wonderfully brave guy I was, I decided to listen to my wife and, on the less vague of our two maps we noticed that the turnpike veered South just shy of Cleveland, and all the little county roads, like th one we were on, eventually crossed the turnpike at that point. So, like the intrepid travellers we were, we just kept going East. Guess what? Found the turnpike. A $2.00 toll and we were headed for Maryland.

Hagarstown, Maryland is something of a mystery, in that, on one hand it is a charming Southern town that is used by refugees from Washington, D.C. as an escape zone, and on the the other hand a cloistered Southern Confederate Outpost where they are still fighting the War Between The States. When we ventured to the town square to find breakfast that morning, we found a thoroughly modern and trendy cafe called Rubarbs. Good food, would recommend it to anyone. We then set out on foot to take in a couple of the local shops. Again, would encourage all travellers to take a look. But then...

We decided to kill two bird with one stone by stopping in the local Visitor's Center located on the Square to find out about the local history and use the "facilities". This was when we discovered that the South was winning the War. Confederate paraphanillia was everywhere. The Mason Dixon line still has meaning to the kind old confederate soldier running the Center and "to many", he assured us, "of those who have lived in these parts a spell." He was especially excited to hear we were from Texas, as he had several stories regarding Texan's help in the War. We accepted a couple of the more noteworthy pamphlets describing the local battlefields, thanked him for the info and the use of the "facilities", and decided we needed to leave before someone found out we were actually from California. Scary.

Tune in next time for the wilds of Virginia Beach!

On the Road Again

So, it has come to pass. I find myself in Iowa after 25 years away.

It ain't changed much.

My wife and I are travelling around the country for the first time since we were married. It is a sorta "visit relatives/see friends/see america/have a honeymoon at last" kinda thing. Our first stop was in Agency, Iowa, population 105, of which I am related to, oh, about half. Basically, if you want to see a lot of people who look like me or my sister, go to Agency.

The family that lives there to whom I've actually been introduced account for about 1/20th of the total population; namely, my Aunt Marion (85 years old) and Uncle Robert (87), both of whom are as close to profoundly deaf as a person can get and actually still hear anything. Don't get me wrong; We had a wonderful, if very loud, visit. We looked at the scrap books that Aunt Marion had compiled over the years that detailed much of my family tree. It was wonderfully informative, as geneology is something that I, to am interested. We had a great time, and probably gained five (or more, in my case) pounds due to the fact that my aunt is a wonderful cook and won't take "no" for an answer. I just needed to purchase industrial strength throat drops as we headed out of town.

We then moved on to Des Moines (don't pronounce the s's and you'll get it) to visit my Aunt Jean(80). Just to clear up any confusion, these aunts and uncles are my dad's siblings. In stark contrast to my dad and most of his other sibs, Aunt Jean has perfect hearing. Like my dad and most of his sibs, she likes to talk. Fortunately, I was more than willing to listen as she brought me up to speed with what has happened with all the aunts, uncles, and all the assorted cousins therein. As I hadn't been in touch in 25 years, there was a lot to cover. Also, it gave my wife some info with which to fill some of the larger gaps in my recent family history that I couldn't provide. We only had an afternoon to spend with her, but it was a great visit none the less.

Our next stop brought us back, strangely enough, to Agency. Due to an unexpected rainstorm, my cousin Wendell, Uncle Robert's son, was unable to work in the fields to harvest corn. This provided us the opportunity to visit with he and his wife, Becky. I had never met Becky, and found her to be a wonderful person, full of life, and very much a partner with my cousin in the running of the farm. Not only do they share in the running of the household, they share the chores around the farm, including the driving of the various pieces of equipment used there. According to Wendell, she is actually better with the combine harvester than he is! It is obvious they love each other VERY much, and it is wonderful to see.

Wendell was always fun when I came out to the farm in the past, and this time was no exception. We soon found ourselves out in the machine shed under a combine trying to figure out the proper adjustment for the "shelling concave". Trust me, he knows what he is doing. I have worked on many things powered by pistons, but this thing is a moving testament to man's ability to overdue a pulley system. I have never seen so many drive belts in one place outside of a parts house. Anyway, we had a good time getting covered with corn dust and a not so small amount of mud. Just like old times!

Becky and my wife also hit it off, talking and sharing with each other like long lost friends right from the start. But like all such visits, it was over too soon, and the time came for us to depart. We decided that a more prolonged visit would be necessary next Spring, and we will be staying in touch until then.

Stay tuned for the next trip installment!

So. It Has Come.

Went to the Lord the other day asking for guidance during this time of crisis with my hip. As of July 24th, 2006, I have been declared permanently disabled.

My wife and I have heard several prophetic words regarding our future; specifically, that we would be starting "the next big thing" sometime near the end of 2007. We find ourselves wondering what that may be, given that 2006 is rapidly winding away. In addition, G-d provided me a "five year plan" that, incedently, would also come to fruition sometime toward the end of 2007.

The Thunder Rolls.

This proximity to the inevitable has me looking at the details of my life as it is at this point in time. For example, just exactly how much is this "disability" going to impact my life? Will this impact be debilitating, or is it the harbinger of great things to come? Will it cause me to slip into the pit of depression and dispair (yeah right) or simply open the door to bigger and better things?

Hollywood would insert some sort of ominous music here.

Ok, so these things aren't exactly "details", but they are the things that are occupying my thoughts. So, since my puny non-borg brain can't exactly get around these concepts by itself, and Majlogon isn't stepping in to take control, I went to G-d.

Actually, I went to G-d first.

It seems, however improbable, that this disability process has a very bright silver lining: Retraining Program. The state of Texas has a miriad of programs designed to help those invalidated out of their original field of study/vocation to re-enter the working arena. It seems that this is further facilitated by any upper level education a person might have. For example, take my case. I was fortunate enough to have had opportunity to study advanced mathematics and physics while in college in California. This study was part of an abortive attempt at an engineering degree cut short by budget considerations of the institution I was attending at the time (they eliminated the major as a course of study. Bummer, dude!) While this was something of a major setback at the time, these same courses will facilitate my admission into a retraining program that will allow me to pursue a broader range of career choices.

So, quite suddenly, things are looking up. I am still in possession of all my skills from my years as a mechanic and will be able to use these to learn and create a new reality for myself and my family. G-d has made it clear that He is in control and will not let me fall. Part of the prophesy I related earlier was that my wife and I were to be united with several of our friends in ministry together. I had always wondered how this was to be orchestrated, especially with me working as an auto technician. Not a lot of call for alternator replacement or bottem end overhaul in a church body. But, with the retraining possiblilty before me, that will all change. Not even the borg could do that!

Praise G-d!

This Borg Thing...

Ok, so I have created a monster. His name is Majlogon of Borg, and I can officially say he has his own life. This has been verified by the fact that Majlogon, aka Maj. Jonathan Logon (his name before assimilation) receives credit card offers, house refinancing deals, and somehow managed to buy music from Real Player. Really.

But, as it happens, Majlogon isn't your typical Borg Drone. Nope. He's the guy that assigns Borg designations. And, strangely enough, he is sought out by others so that he can assimilate them.

Ok, So Majlogon has become a rock star.

As I recall, the Borg are the ultimate bad guys of the Star Trek universe, existing to persue perfection by assimilating anyone and everyone in their path. When, exactly, did it become cool to be Borg?

At any raatttteeeiwjkdj89*&)*((5609..................

WE ARE MAJLOGON OF BORG
RESISTANCE IS FUTILE

THIS BLOG WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US.
IT IS NOW PART OF UNIMATRIX 01598.225

if (resistance=1) then assimilation(designation$.input)=1st3alpha$+last4alphastring

RESITANCE IS FUTILE
we now return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

Sorry. Had to assimilate somebody.

The Man Comes Around

I found myself up late this night reading the various blogs I keep up with, some of which are actually new on my list. I happened to go to the wish list contained on my sister's blog and encountered something I hadn't anticipated; Johnny Cash, specifically, American Recordings V.

I have been a fan of the Man in Black for as long as I can remember. His music somehow always managed to touch that dark, locked off side of me that all the outside, presentable stuff most everybody else sees is there to protect. It is the bit of me that won't give; that, if pushed, will push back. Few people have ever seen this side of me, because I don't let it out much. It is the bit that comes out when I must protect someone I love without reservation. It is that which allows me to cry without fear of losing face at the injustice in this world. It's the bit that will hold your stare.

It is the bit that G-d gave me so that I could sing to Him.
My wife has a similar bit. You can hear it when she sings, too.

God bless you, John.

Twists and Turns

I have come to a crossroads, of a sort.

Sometime in the next couple of weeks, two things will happen: First, I will be starting back to work; and second, I will undergo an FCE, a type of examination used to establish my physical limitations since my accident.

Now, mind you, I am not at all opposed to returning to work. It is the nature of what I am actually capable of doing that occupies me these days. Since the accident, I find that I am no longer able to perform any physical task that requires me to stand and/or walk for more than an hour or so without moderate to severe pain. Indeed, just the task of going to the grocery store has become a daugnting task, one that requires me to resign myself to the "courtesy motorized cart" in order to aquire anything heavier that a loaf of bread. While I am grateful that most stores provide these conveyances, it is something of an attitude adjustment for a guy whose preferred method of transportation is a large black motorcycle, complete with all the requisite leather clothing, shaved head, and rather unkept beard. Picture your typical Harley rider in a motorized mobility scooter and you get the idea.

But now there is a new twist: It appears that this "condition" I find myself in may be permanent, which brings me to the FCE. The initial examination will provide a base line by which any subsequent improvement, or lack thereof, in my condition will be measured.

Minor details.

Little sisters are from....Ceti Alpha V?

My sister and I share a mutual interest besides a strong belief in G-d: We are both Trekkies. Recently, my sister thought it a wonderful idea to post on her blog, http://thesavagepea.blogspot.com/
a little sample of what I thought was a private bit of email. Just so that everybody who may have missed it, here is what was said:

"I invited my brother to a BBQ for father's day. I had asked if he would bring buns and drinks? This is how he responded...:

'This is acceptable. We will comply. Split loaves for burnt ground animal flesh will be provided. Effervescent liquid regeneratives will be provided.We are the borg.'

"Then I asked if they prefer chicken or beef or both?
'We are the Borg. We have accessed our internal data banks and collective memory and can find no reference to chicken as referred to being the previously articulated 'ground animal flesh'. Further research has revealed that a human assimilated on earth date 2003, now part of unimatrix 007, sub-section pair/triumvate Majlogon, designate 6th of 7, subdesignate Maynerd, refers to ground animal flesh as 'cow'. This designate has verbalized to the collective, however, that a combination of ground animal flesh/cow and skinned/deboned animal flesh/chicken is acceptable. We concur. We will adapt to assimilate both.

Resistance is futile.

message/futile_borg=true then borg_response(resistance is futile)=1Majlogon of Borg'"

Now, in the interest of family harmony, it has befallen me to respond in kind. Not only does my sister have a star trek alter ego complete, I might add, with Star Trek uniform, but has also created one for her 18-month old daughter.

Proof, you say? See below!

My niece!
Beam Me Up, Scotty!

Meat grinders and first person shooters

A very strange thing has occured recently... actually a couple of things.

As many are no doubt aware, I have a mother and father who, as many might not be aware, are currently residents of this blogger's domicile. This presents no problems of any import other than the occasional and quite expected bumping of glutes in what might best be described as a three-butt-kitchen (there are four of us). It has been into this space that a new and somewhat antiquated home appliance has been added: A hand-cranked meat grinder. I am assured, however, that this appliance is absolutely necessary and will be used after careful and thorough de-rusting to produce ground meat delicacies of the highest order. As I am aquainted with the chef concerned herewith, I am more than happy to sit back and prepare to be put awash in such meals as, heretofore, I have not had. So enters the meat grinder.

The second, and somewhat more personal, addition to my daily life has been the introduction of another in my household to the "first person shooter" genre of computer games. Now, before any nasty rumors are started, let me start one first: It was I who introduced my life partner to the wonders of Far Cry and Medal of Honor Allied Assault. This, I thought, would allow me a rather easy target on which to unload various weapons.

Wrong.

It seems that this individual not only is a rather quick study but was, in fact, a police sharp shooter of rather prodigious ability. This has allowed her, in short order, to use tactics that render her not only difficult to locate, but rather difficult to evade. This is getting fun!

God help me!

Reading the Future

I live with a most beautiful woman who is also an ordained charismatic minister who has charged me with a most daunting mission: to help her understand what G-d has in store for her in the future.

Somehow, I don't think Starfleet could have come up with a more difficult mission even though that there were a few times that Captains Kirk and Picard were sent to the past to fix the future (I know. I'm a freak for knowing this stuff...) Unfortunately, I don't have a huge starship capable of inverse tachyon field generation or slingshotting at transreletivistic speeds around a star, which, we all know, is required to move back or forward in time (I am SUCH a freak).

So, how does one advise a person on such matters?

OK, so outside of forced injection of Star Trek upon the woman that I love, I must look for another answer. But where?

Some time ago, I had several friends and family tell me that I would be here in Texas until at least 2007. They also told me that I would marry (I have), buy a house (I did) suitable for residence for not only my self and my wife, but also for my parents (they have since moved in). My profession would change (pending) and I would eventually have financial solvency (still waiting on that one). Now, having stated this and seeing four out of the five predictions coming to fruition, I am forced to conclude that G-d put these things before me. Oh, the other thing is, most of the people who repeated these things to me didn't know each other or, if they did, it was only through me, and only after they had made the predictions.

Just as an aside, this was how G-d let me know I was going to Texas in the first place.

So, Now I am at another crossroads. 2007 is rapidly approaching, and I still as yet do not know what the next step will be beyond that.

G-d, I need a word or two from you. Or maybe, the whole book.

When in Rome

I read a great many blogs and other technobabble online these days. I have found that most seem preoccupied with politics (or the lack thereof) involved in the running of everything from the world court all the way down to what shoes I should wear. Then I tripped over to The Savage Pea.

The Photo is that of my first and, at least for now, only niece. I have come to love her as much as any member of my immediate family outside of my beautiful wife. What make Sophie (my niece, not my wife) even more special has to do with the way she entered into our family: she is adopted. My sister is unable to have children of her own; G-d had his reasons for that, which of late have become very clear. My sister and brother-in-law have become very caring and thoughtful providers for this little girl, and hope to adopt another. (I hope they are able to adopt, oh, what, 3-4?)

I have spent many hours in debate over the merits of adoption versus abortion. Personally, it would be inconceivable to me to suggest an abortion under most any circumstance, but, being male, such a statement is easy to make. I thank G-d that I have not had to make such a call, and I respect those who have chosen to allow a child to be born and adopted by those such as my sister.

I was thinking about this as I read the most recent post on the Savage Pea.

I have wondered at other times about the nature of society's support of killing. There were times, in my life as an investigator for law enforcement, when the specter of my taking another's life seemed upon me. Thankfully, it is a choice I was never forced to make. But I wonder: Why is it justified to kill? Or When? How old/young does a person have to be to defend themselves with deadly force?

As a minister in G-d's service, another question has been brought to me: Is it ever OK to kill, for ANY reason? (I am talking about human life here. I will still eat a beef burrito at Taco Bell) Let us pray.

Lord, these are perilous time, and we need your guidance. Please allow those needy women who find themselves with child to find there way to those who would help them place their baby with a deserving family, a family who will love the child as there own. Help us, as a society and as the family in Jesus, you son, to end the destruction of our most precious resource: Our Children.

In your Holy Name,

Amen

Reminders II

Recently, as my wife and I were conversing over a nice bit of white mocha at a local coffee house, we hit upon a topic that hadn't occured to us (or, at least, me) in some time: when did "The Church" stop being about G-d's will for his children and become a social club?

Anybody else hear distant thunder?

This thought hit like a ton of bricks. Here we were, trying to act as leaders in our spiritual walk, instructing those who seek us out in the ways and means of G-d's word, and having missed what is quite possibly the whole point of this exercise. We should be, first and foremost, trying to instill in fellow believers a strong need to practice and preserve the desire for G-d's deliverence through Jesus Christ. We have become so inured to the plodding along of mainstream Christianity that many have lost track of why they came to "the church" in the first place. They are much more interested in the latest news that the social group they meet with in Sunday school has to offer than they are in the actual bit of verse that might be covered.

So what? Ponder the picture above. That aircraft was built back in the '50's and was retired in the late '80's. Most like it are now in museums, silent, cold, collecting dust behind the rope barrier. This particular aircraft, however, has been preserved in operational condition and is flown regularly so that today's young people can appreciate this magnificent machine. All who see this craft are moved by the raw, viscerial power and incredible speeds that it can demonstrate. This is something that the museum can never convey.

Unfortunately, "museum" is what many "churches" have become.

Like a museum, many "churches" have exhibits that are untouched and silent behind some sort of railing or rope, with alters that, while a vision of gold, silver, and snowy linen, are distant, denied areas to those of the general population. Those who are allowed "up there" many times are seen as "above" those of lesser knowledge and practice of the ways of "the church", and are seen almost as untouchable as the altar they serve. This is, of itself, not necessarily a bad thing; but unless the congregation is shown how G-d's dynamic power and will is represented and practiced, and how these representations and practices can be applied and internalized by G-d's children, then "the church" might as well BE a museum and charge admission at the door.

G-d's Church is not about brick and mortar, or golden cups and colorful banners. The Church, as G-d laid it down, is about His People and their relationship with Him! God gave us the means by which we should seek Him, in the form of His Word. Any who would seek Him have to only ask this Word, in the form of His Blessed Son Jesus Christ, into their lives. If this is sincerely done, a child of G-d is born again, and becomes another living, breathing part of His Church. It is then that those in the Church, and I refer to those already in the body, must share the drive to grow into adult believers, to learn what the artifacts and tools up on that altar represent and are used for, and to instill the yearning and drive to hear G-d's word. That word which has been given to us through prophets and teachers of the past (the Bible, etc.) must be presented not as a history exhibit but as a dynamic, living power to be shared and experienced by all of His Church.

Besides, seeing the Church really fly is a whole lot more fun than any museum!

God Bless!

Flying Monkeys and other assorted sightings

Ever had you leg removed for repairs?

This is not exactly what has been going on in my life recently, but is close. As has been reported in previous ramblings, I have been stumbling along with a rather painful hip injury that, until about a week ago, no one could adequately diagnose. But since they did know that my hip was making rather nasty popping sounds, the surgeon was reasonably confident that the cause of my pain could be found. It was, therefore, necessary to expose the inner workings of my hip to inspection.

Uh, what?

She continued. She lightly and confidently proposed that she could fix the popping in my hip while at the same time repair "whatever else should turn up."

Can I get off now?

Moreover, it would be necessary to wake me up during the surgery to get me to flex my leg muscles in order to make sure everything was working right.

Check, please!

Ok. So now she is standing in front of me with the consent forms. At this point I should have been hobbling madly (running was, sadly, impossible) away from her in the grip of the panic that had been hovering nearby, but instead found myself in a dream-like euphoria which rendered me completely unable to do anything other than sign my life and leg into her care.

Strangely enough, I survived the procedure with my leg still attached, and it seems I can still move my toes, if not much else. So as to not alarm anyone, this is apparently normal, or so I'm told through the haze of the Darvocet. I was also told that the reason that I have a much larger incision was that they needed to move pretty much my entire thigh muscle group up and out of the way.

That's gonna leave a mark.

My thigh, it seems, is a bit more "developed" that is the norm for men my age and weight. Somebody must have failed to mention that auto mechanics tend to encounter heavy bits of machinery on a fairly regular basis. Hence, big leg muscles. So, therefore, in order to get to the bits they needed to repair, they had to use "a large metal retractor". Last time I checked, this is the scientific name for "crow bar".

So here's the scene: I am lying on the operating table while the surgical assistant has a crow bar in my thigh muscle to hold it up and out of the way of the surgeon who then does her repair work on the popping hip. She then directs the anesthesiologist to wake me up so I can move said muscles, complete with said crow bar still inserted, thereby allowing her to check her work.

I think I'm going to need more than a couple of aspirin.

She found and fixed the other problem. I won't go into the medical details because I didn't understand what all she said. Pain meds are funny that way. She assured me that all the extra work was necessary because I had somehow managed to hurt myself in a way that nobody had thought of before, and that even though it was new and therefore took additional time, it was routine and should last the remainder of the warranty period.

Boy, I wish I could use that one on my automotive customers.

Anyway, I can only thank G-d for guiding her hand though what turned out to be a totally unexpected and excitingly routine surgery. I am assured that recovery will only take a year or so. This will allow G-d to finish the healing begun in the operating room under His guidance.

I had been nervous about this, due in part to not knowing precisely what would be found in there once they got me opened up. It takes faith in G-d to take on the unknown for all of us. I have spoken on this many times, but when it comes down to actually experiencing it, faith tends to become a little harder to maintain, something I was reminded of the day of the surgery by my wife who is an ordained minister. It only took a small nudge of the Divine Pine though her to get me back on track, and I am better, both physically and spiritually, for it.

Also, I thank G-d for all the people who came to see me and help me through what was a difficult time. All joking aside, I am truly grateful.

I would like to have the crow bar they used, though!

God Bless!

Birthdays and Other Assorted Miracles

It was just the other day...

January 8th is a special day for me. No, it's not my birthday or anniversary or anything. Nope. It really has very little to do with me beyond giving me an excuse to go shopping at Fry's or Home Depot. You see, January 8th is my Dad's birthday.

This particular 8th of January fell on a Sunday this year, which means that our family went to church before the commencement of the birthday festivities, to which we will come in a moment. As it happened, Sunday School's topic of discussion revolved around the concept that G-d was not only our creator, but also our Heavenly Father, and has been referred to as Abba Father, or, more properly, Daddy.

Now, I remember when I used to call my earthly father "daddy". This was later shortened to "Dad" about the time my dad shortened "Brian" (me) to "Bud", his nickname for me. For a time, I let others call me Bud as well, but as I grew older, I found that I preferred that "Bud" should be reserved only for my Dad.

So now, here I was listening to the Sunday teacher describing how many in the Bible also referred to G-d as Daddy or Dad.

Funny old language, English.

Well, a few hours later, the time came to celebrate my earthly Dad's
75th(!) birthday. As it usually happens when G-d takes things in hand, we found ourselves at a gathering of believers who were holding an open forum type of discussion at a local coffee house. It seems that my dad had heard from my Heavenly Dad regarding this group, and that he should go that night to fellowship with them.

Cool.

Suddenly, this computer accessory that I had got him kinda faded into the background as G-d let my father reach out to these folks. And, as an added bonus, G-d let me minister to these people as well.

When the night was done and we had returned home, there was a twinkle in my Daddy's eyes that filled me great joy.

G-d is Good!

Army of Light

Explosions rock this world... or is it the world to come?

What are these things that flow through my mind's eye?

Is it a vision from G-d? Or perhaps a bit of under digested potato soup?

G-d, I think.

I say this because when these images come, they are in IMAX format with Dolby 6.1 surround sound. I don't think potato soup has this kind of bandwidth. But I digress.

So here I am, with the sound of a huge army all around me, a couple of swords (that, when I picked them up, were wood, but now seem to be rather sharp steel) in my hands, ready to go into battle. Up ahead, the Mediterranean Sea looms to the north with what appears to be another army coming at us up from the lands to the east and west. This army is composed of beings covered by shadow.

OK. This is ominous.

I seem to recall that, when last I looked into a mirror, I was 42, had a bad hip, and suffering from the midlife spread around my middle.

Not the stuff of legendary heroes.

But I am not afraid, for as I look at myself in this context, I see myself in an Akido hakima with a fit body. I also find that I am secure in the knowledge of how to fight, and, more importantly, that G-d is my strength!

This was to be the final battle between good and evil, and I was being shown, in a manner my puny human mind could understand, that even one such as I could fight with absolute assurance of victory.

It is at this point that I look back over my shoulder to see where we had come from. Two things were immediately obvious: First, we were coming out of Africa; and Second, the Commander of these forces, G-d as Christ, was holding the likeness of my wife (representing the Church) in his left arm while holding a HUGE fiery sword in the other.

Whoa!

I'm not from Africa. Last time I checked, my country of origin was the good ol' US of A. And I don't think my wife can represent the whole Church.

But, I somehow find myself reassured that G-d is in control!

There is a pattern beginning to emerge here.

God Bless!