Sunday, September 30, 2007
Flag Football
Seth started his first-ever season of Upward Flag Football. His mom and I are OK with FLAG football because there is little chance of breaking growth-plates and that sort of thing. We weren’t too sure how he would like it. This is the first time in a while I haven’t helped coach a team he is on. Of course, it’s FOOTBALL so, what knowledge I have of the intricacies of the game is pretty much exhausted in 30 seconds. Basketball is another story. His team got pummeled 23 to 8, but he had fun. He actually had a stint as quarterback and threw for the team’s only touchdown. Below are some pics. Keep in mind this is “serious business” and it shows…
Monday, September 10, 2007
Oh, What a Day!!!
Friday, September 7, 2007 will be forever etched on my memory. The most important reason for this remembrance is to give thanks for the successful results of my father-in-law’s prostate surgery. However, the events of the day leading up to this surgery were anything but successful.
My lovely wife had gone to Arlington Thursday with her parents so that she could be with them during the surgery. My assignment was to make sure the kids get to school, pick them up for the early release, and head up to Arlington to meet them. Seems simple enough.
The morning started leaving the house a couple of minutes later than usual to get my son to school. When I have both kids to drop off, I take him first, then my daughter. As I walk into the garage, my son exclaims, “Oh, dad! You have a way flat tire!” Needless to say, I changed the tire as quickly as possible, but I still got him to school about 10 minutes late. It’s now 8:20 and I have to travel about 10 miles to my daughter’s middle school and then drive into Abilene (approx. 20 minutes). I have an 8:30 client scheduled. They drive in from Sweetwater and never miss an appointment. I’m thinking they are going to be very upset with me. I call ahead to the secretary and give her the “heads up.” She kindly goes and explains the situation to the couple.
I pick up the kids and have researched places that might be able to fix a flat tire fairly quickly. I drove by one place on the way to pick up the kids and it had no cars out front and one in the garage. However, when I drove back to the tire store, there were 3 cars in front and 3-4 in the garage. Needless to say, the kids and I waited an hour and a half sitting on the floor because there were no seats available, to hear the technician tell me the tire was not able to be fixed. So, I had to buy 2 new tires – not in the budget.
We get gas, and finally get on the road 2 hours later than planned. About 20 miles east of Eastland, TX I’m driving in the left-hand lane with a pick-up in front of me in the right lane. I notice he has two oil drums in the back of his pick up and within seconds I also notice one the lids of those drums is flying off like a Frisbee out the back of his pick up and is headed straight at my car. All I can do is think, “I sure hope that doesn’t hit my windshield!” The lid dives down toward the asphalt and I think, “Oh good, I can just straddle it and drive right over it!” because there is no way to miss it. “Whew! Barely got out of that one!” Then I hear the sound of pavement scraping under my vehicle. I’m imagining sparks flying all around the bottom of the car and the possibility of us all blowing up. I knew if we blew up, my wife would kill me! So, I pulled over to the shoulder of the interstate, open the door, and immediately smell radiator fluid. “That can’t be good”, I think. I look under the front of the car and the barrel lid has wedged itself up under my fender and jammed itself into the radiator. I remove the lid, save it for evidence, and see fluid draining out rapidly. I exit the interstate and call my wife to let her know what just happened. I tell her I’m going to try and make it as far back to Eastland as I can because I have good friends in Eastland who would help us out. I get as far as the infamous “Ranger Hill” and my temperature gage hits the red zone and the caution light comes on telling me the engine is overheating. I pull out my trusty Palm Pilot and look up my friend’s phone number. I haven’t called them in a VERY long time. So long in fact, that I did not have the correct area code. I called information and got the correct number. I called the Whites – Ronald and Donna. Donna answers the phone it goes something like this:
Donna: “Hello?”
Me: “Hi Donna, this is Paul Irby.”
Donna: “Paul Irby! How are you?”
Me: “Well, I’m in a little bit of trouble.”
Donna: “How can I help you, Paul?”
I explain the situation to Donna and she immediately says she is on her way to pick up myself and my two kids. We leave the car because it’s parked on the shoulder and we don’t want to be in it in case a random semi-truck loses control and plows into the back of it. So there we are standing on a feeder road parallel to I-20 with our luggage. It was quite a sight! I couldn’t help but tell my kids what a great Christian friend Donna was to not even hesitate to offer help at the mere mention of “trouble” not knowing what kind of trouble it was.
Donna picks us up 30 minutes later and my daughter tells me Donna is her “most favorite lady ever!” She takes us to her home and asks her husband about a good towing service and/or mechanic. He gives her the name and I call them and they are more than willing to tow it in and fix it if they can.
Laurie arrives in Eastland about an hour and a half later. She hasn’t eaten since 9:00 AM and it is now about 7:20 PM. She had just sat down to supper at Abuelo’s when my call for help came through. We run through McDonald’s and eventually arrive at Arlington around 9:15. Her Dad was sitting up in bed and seemed to be doing great! Laurie also, had not seen her dad since he went in for surgery around 1 PM.
Saturday morning I call the mechanic/wrecker service and he tells me not only is the radiator severely damaged, but the lid shoved the radiator into our A/C compressor. Thank the Lord for insurance!!!
As we are telling everyone, what HAD to go right that day, DID go right. My Father-in-law had successful results from his surgery. Everything else went horribly wrong! However, I am quick to note that it could have been much worse. No one was hurt or killed. Our kids are safe. It’s not hard to see the hand of God even in the midst of disaster.
My lovely wife had gone to Arlington Thursday with her parents so that she could be with them during the surgery. My assignment was to make sure the kids get to school, pick them up for the early release, and head up to Arlington to meet them. Seems simple enough.
The morning started leaving the house a couple of minutes later than usual to get my son to school. When I have both kids to drop off, I take him first, then my daughter. As I walk into the garage, my son exclaims, “Oh, dad! You have a way flat tire!” Needless to say, I changed the tire as quickly as possible, but I still got him to school about 10 minutes late. It’s now 8:20 and I have to travel about 10 miles to my daughter’s middle school and then drive into Abilene (approx. 20 minutes). I have an 8:30 client scheduled. They drive in from Sweetwater and never miss an appointment. I’m thinking they are going to be very upset with me. I call ahead to the secretary and give her the “heads up.” She kindly goes and explains the situation to the couple.
I pick up the kids and have researched places that might be able to fix a flat tire fairly quickly. I drove by one place on the way to pick up the kids and it had no cars out front and one in the garage. However, when I drove back to the tire store, there were 3 cars in front and 3-4 in the garage. Needless to say, the kids and I waited an hour and a half sitting on the floor because there were no seats available, to hear the technician tell me the tire was not able to be fixed. So, I had to buy 2 new tires – not in the budget.
We get gas, and finally get on the road 2 hours later than planned. About 20 miles east of Eastland, TX I’m driving in the left-hand lane with a pick-up in front of me in the right lane. I notice he has two oil drums in the back of his pick up and within seconds I also notice one the lids of those drums is flying off like a Frisbee out the back of his pick up and is headed straight at my car. All I can do is think, “I sure hope that doesn’t hit my windshield!” The lid dives down toward the asphalt and I think, “Oh good, I can just straddle it and drive right over it!” because there is no way to miss it. “Whew! Barely got out of that one!” Then I hear the sound of pavement scraping under my vehicle. I’m imagining sparks flying all around the bottom of the car and the possibility of us all blowing up. I knew if we blew up, my wife would kill me! So, I pulled over to the shoulder of the interstate, open the door, and immediately smell radiator fluid. “That can’t be good”, I think. I look under the front of the car and the barrel lid has wedged itself up under my fender and jammed itself into the radiator. I remove the lid, save it for evidence, and see fluid draining out rapidly. I exit the interstate and call my wife to let her know what just happened. I tell her I’m going to try and make it as far back to Eastland as I can because I have good friends in Eastland who would help us out. I get as far as the infamous “Ranger Hill” and my temperature gage hits the red zone and the caution light comes on telling me the engine is overheating. I pull out my trusty Palm Pilot and look up my friend’s phone number. I haven’t called them in a VERY long time. So long in fact, that I did not have the correct area code. I called information and got the correct number. I called the Whites – Ronald and Donna. Donna answers the phone it goes something like this:
Donna: “Hello?”
Me: “Hi Donna, this is Paul Irby.”
Donna: “Paul Irby! How are you?”
Me: “Well, I’m in a little bit of trouble.”
Donna: “How can I help you, Paul?”
I explain the situation to Donna and she immediately says she is on her way to pick up myself and my two kids. We leave the car because it’s parked on the shoulder and we don’t want to be in it in case a random semi-truck loses control and plows into the back of it. So there we are standing on a feeder road parallel to I-20 with our luggage. It was quite a sight! I couldn’t help but tell my kids what a great Christian friend Donna was to not even hesitate to offer help at the mere mention of “trouble” not knowing what kind of trouble it was.
Donna picks us up 30 minutes later and my daughter tells me Donna is her “most favorite lady ever!” She takes us to her home and asks her husband about a good towing service and/or mechanic. He gives her the name and I call them and they are more than willing to tow it in and fix it if they can.
Laurie arrives in Eastland about an hour and a half later. She hasn’t eaten since 9:00 AM and it is now about 7:20 PM. She had just sat down to supper at Abuelo’s when my call for help came through. We run through McDonald’s and eventually arrive at Arlington around 9:15. Her Dad was sitting up in bed and seemed to be doing great! Laurie also, had not seen her dad since he went in for surgery around 1 PM.
Saturday morning I call the mechanic/wrecker service and he tells me not only is the radiator severely damaged, but the lid shoved the radiator into our A/C compressor. Thank the Lord for insurance!!!
As we are telling everyone, what HAD to go right that day, DID go right. My Father-in-law had successful results from his surgery. Everything else went horribly wrong! However, I am quick to note that it could have been much worse. No one was hurt or killed. Our kids are safe. It’s not hard to see the hand of God even in the midst of disaster.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Turn Around, Don't Drown!
It's flooding in North Abilene today. Fortunately, we don't live there anymore. We live in the rolling hills between Abilene and Tuscola. However, my wife's family has had a small lake cabin at Lake Fort Phantom since 1953 which is in the north part of Abilene and is catching most of the "run off" from other area creeks.
We were ecstatic this year when the rains came and the lake filled to capacity. Just last week we were at the cabin for a long weekend of fishing, skiing, tubing, and just floating around. The lake had overflowed the banks and barely into the back yard.
This weekend Abilene got much rain attributed to remnants of tropical storm Erin. We went out to the cabin yesterday to help get furniture and appliances elevated enough were flooding might not hurt them. We were too late getting there because my father-in-law and uncle-in-law (?) already had the work done. So, I pulled out the trusty digital camera and took a few photos. Below are some of them. You might be able to see the dock way in the background of a few of them. The lake is supposed to stop there.
More water is coming! Yikes!
(L-R) A view from the front of the cabin. Technically, the lake ends at a place behind the cabin not visible from this view. Seth is standing on the top step at the back door.
This weekend Abilene got much rain attributed to remnants of tropical storm Erin. We went out to the cabin yesterday to help get furniture and appliances elevated enough were flooding might not hurt them. We were too late getting there because my father-in-law and uncle-in-law (?) already had the work done. So, I pulled out the trusty digital camera and took a few photos. Below are some of them. You might be able to see the dock way in the background of a few of them. The lake is supposed to stop there.
More water is coming! Yikes!
(L-R) A view from the front of the cabin. Technically, the lake ends at a place behind the cabin not visible from this view. Seth is standing on the top step at the back door.
(L-R) Ashton is standing at the back of the cabin next to the "swamp cooler" that is usually a couple of feet off the ground. The kids are about 15 feet out the back door. Obviously, Seth didn't want to get his shorts wet.
(L-R) A closer view from the first picture. That cement square is the septic tank. When my father-in-law first got to the cabin (about 1 hour previously) it did not have water covering it. This last picture is again from the front of the cabin. You might be able to see the dock way in the background in the center of the picture.
Just wanted to add a picture of my wonderful wife!
Monday, August 13, 2007
Anger Management
Yesterday, I was scheduled to teach the middle school boys Sunday School class. During the summer months we don’t have a standard curriculum, so we have some freedom to choose what to teach. I had recently viewed one of Rob Bell’s Nooma Videos that deals with the issue of anger and thought it would be a good discussion starter for us. The simplified overview of this video is that there are things worth getting angry over, anger can be channeled to increase peace rather than lead to destruction, and that Jesus was angry. I liked the fact that Bell didn’t use the money changers incident to illustrate Jesus’ anger. Instead, he focused on an account recorded in Mark 3 where Jesus heals a man on the Sabbath. In that story, Jesus was said to be looking upon those (who were trying to criticize and trap him) with anger. As I studied the issue of Jesus and anger, I came across His teaching in Matthew 5 – “…if anyone is angry with his brother, he will be subject to judgment…” The thoughts/questions occurred to me – Did Jesus sin by getting angry with these men? What about Eph. 4:26 “in your anger, do not sin”? and How does all this balance with what Jesus taught in Matthew 5? The insight occurred to me that I naturally read the Matthew 5 passage with the assumption that being “subject to judgment” is a bad thing and naturally leads to condemnation. Therefore, I interpreted this verse as Jesus saying, “if you are angry with your brother, you are sinning” which could be the implication, but the biblical context seems to lead in another direction.
Think about it. Anyone who is “subject to judgment” has the potential to be either convicted or found “not guilty.” With this in mind as well as the insights of Bell and my own understanding of anger in the psychological realm, what Jesus seems to be saying is that our episodes of anger will be scrutinized. The healthy or acceptable display is one that promotes peace and resolution rather than making matters worse. We cannot eliminate anger from our emotional experience. However, we can manage it in such a way that it is not harmful, destructive, and explosive.
Think about it. Anyone who is “subject to judgment” has the potential to be either convicted or found “not guilty.” With this in mind as well as the insights of Bell and my own understanding of anger in the psychological realm, what Jesus seems to be saying is that our episodes of anger will be scrutinized. The healthy or acceptable display is one that promotes peace and resolution rather than making matters worse. We cannot eliminate anger from our emotional experience. However, we can manage it in such a way that it is not harmful, destructive, and explosive.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Perspective
It is amazing how emotional pain, anxiety, and anger can distort perspective. I deal with this on a daily basis with many of my clients, and from time-to-time I have to be my own therapist and “practice what I preach.”
My 20-year class reunion was a couple of weeks ago. I did not attend. However, I was sent a link to a MySpace profile that contained a slideshow of some of the events and people from the weekend. As I watched that slide-show, I felt a lump in the pit of my stomach. That same lump I felt many days as I walked the halls of my high school. The lump that is associated with feelings of insecurity and inferiority that began literally in the 3rd grade with classmates making fun of my stutter or my obvious lack of athleticism and chubby frame. The lump was most noticeable to me in junior high. I used to find lots of change and even a few dollar bills in junior high because I walked around with my head down and shoulders slouched in junior high not wanting to make eye contact unless absolutely necessary.
That lump was the beginning of the distortions for me and was tied to so many of those negative emotional experiences. I began to paint my high school years as “traumatic” and "uncomfortable" in my head. I looked at many of those pictures and felt the wounds from the past – the betrayal of a friend in the 5th grade, the condescending or indifferent interactions had with “the popular” crowd. Still many “why questions” unanswered. To be honest, I wallowed in this muck of self-pity for a couple of days. Then I realized that in actuality, most of High School was the source of a great deal of fun and fond memories. There is still no denying that elementary and junior high school were traumatic, but high school was overall a tremendous time where friendships developed, fun was had, and meaning was derived.
That caused me to consider what was different about high school than the previous years. The very real answer came that in the Summer prior to my 9th grade year, I surrendered my life to my Lord Jesus Christ. I can honestly say that my self-confidence and identity came in, and from, Christ (still does!). Those wonderful memories are inevitably tied to Christian friends and an active youth ministry.
Let me be clear, my relationship with Christ did not “solve all my problems” and magically heal all my insecurities but provided me with hope, strength, and resources to walk through all that stuff. As you can tell by the very nature of this entry, I still struggle with some of those things – self-confidence and insecurities – but through what Christ did and does in me “I’m not who I was.” I also owe a great deal of thanks to a few of my “OLD” friends (Lisa, John, Curt, and Cathy) who have made contact with me and through whom God used to bring things back into proper perspective.
My 20-year class reunion was a couple of weeks ago. I did not attend. However, I was sent a link to a MySpace profile that contained a slideshow of some of the events and people from the weekend. As I watched that slide-show, I felt a lump in the pit of my stomach. That same lump I felt many days as I walked the halls of my high school. The lump that is associated with feelings of insecurity and inferiority that began literally in the 3rd grade with classmates making fun of my stutter or my obvious lack of athleticism and chubby frame. The lump was most noticeable to me in junior high. I used to find lots of change and even a few dollar bills in junior high because I walked around with my head down and shoulders slouched in junior high not wanting to make eye contact unless absolutely necessary.
That lump was the beginning of the distortions for me and was tied to so many of those negative emotional experiences. I began to paint my high school years as “traumatic” and "uncomfortable" in my head. I looked at many of those pictures and felt the wounds from the past – the betrayal of a friend in the 5th grade, the condescending or indifferent interactions had with “the popular” crowd. Still many “why questions” unanswered. To be honest, I wallowed in this muck of self-pity for a couple of days. Then I realized that in actuality, most of High School was the source of a great deal of fun and fond memories. There is still no denying that elementary and junior high school were traumatic, but high school was overall a tremendous time where friendships developed, fun was had, and meaning was derived.
That caused me to consider what was different about high school than the previous years. The very real answer came that in the Summer prior to my 9th grade year, I surrendered my life to my Lord Jesus Christ. I can honestly say that my self-confidence and identity came in, and from, Christ (still does!). Those wonderful memories are inevitably tied to Christian friends and an active youth ministry.
Let me be clear, my relationship with Christ did not “solve all my problems” and magically heal all my insecurities but provided me with hope, strength, and resources to walk through all that stuff. As you can tell by the very nature of this entry, I still struggle with some of those things – self-confidence and insecurities – but through what Christ did and does in me “I’m not who I was.” I also owe a great deal of thanks to a few of my “OLD” friends (Lisa, John, Curt, and Cathy) who have made contact with me and through whom God used to bring things back into proper perspective.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Running with Scissors
Over vacation I read the memoir Running with Scissors in which Augusten Burroughs recounts his tumultuous, sad, and frightening years between the ages of 12 and 17. When beginning the book, I likened it to Catcher in the Rye with a much drier whit employed. Essentially, the story has three main plots under the theme of “coming of age”: being raised by a bipolar mother; floundering between the mother and the bizarre “Finch” household after his mother signed over rights to Augusten; and Augusten being the victim of a sexual predator who lived in the garage behind the Finch’s house. The Finches are headed by the father, Dr. Finch who is the very peculiar psychiatrist of Augusten’s mother. As I continued through the memoir it became evident to me that Burroughs was recounting many of these memories with hindsight (factoring in information and interpretations he did not have at the time of their occurrence) which I deemed acceptable, because I think most of us would do that when writing about our childhoods. Continuing through the book, I had the fleeting thought, “this can’t be true!” but continued reading. I am a bit OCD about things that interest me, and because of this, after finishing the book, I did a Google search for critiques of the book and it’s author. I came across a January 2007 Vanity Fair article that interviews the 4 “Finch” sisters who claim they and their family were grossly mischaracterized by Burroughs. Immediately, I assumed Burroughs is another James Frey and was disappointed. However, as I read, the complaints that these siblings made had very little to do with the major systemic dysfunction that was so unbelievable (e.g. when you are 13 you make your own decisions and are offered support and enabling by Dr. Finch; sex between adults and children is acceptable).
I was a very vocal advocate of the professional castration of James Frey after he was exposed for blatant lies about his substance abuse recovery and literally applauded when Oprah confronted him on her show. The experience I had with Scissors forced me to question my consistency on the issue of creative integrity. Should I be as appalled by Burroughs as I was Frey? Why am I not? Is it because I connected emotionally with Scissors and not Pieces? So far, what I have come up with is that Frey made himself out to be hero and an “example” for those in recovery. Augusten made no such claim or characterization. He was just as screwed up as his “siblings” in some respects and he has enough veracity to expose it with such biting humor. If Burroughs made up ½ of the stuff in his memoir (which there is seemingly no evidence to support this large a percentage) it was still a horrifically sad and tragic period of his life. Even some of the more sensational situations were not denied by the family.
If you are an adult reading this blog, and you are not completely turned off by graphic situations and profanity READ THE BOOK. If you are not an adult reading this, please DON’T READ THE BOOK!
I was a very vocal advocate of the professional castration of James Frey after he was exposed for blatant lies about his substance abuse recovery and literally applauded when Oprah confronted him on her show. The experience I had with Scissors forced me to question my consistency on the issue of creative integrity. Should I be as appalled by Burroughs as I was Frey? Why am I not? Is it because I connected emotionally with Scissors and not Pieces? So far, what I have come up with is that Frey made himself out to be hero and an “example” for those in recovery. Augusten made no such claim or characterization. He was just as screwed up as his “siblings” in some respects and he has enough veracity to expose it with such biting humor. If Burroughs made up ½ of the stuff in his memoir (which there is seemingly no evidence to support this large a percentage) it was still a horrifically sad and tragic period of his life. Even some of the more sensational situations were not denied by the family.
If you are an adult reading this blog, and you are not completely turned off by graphic situations and profanity READ THE BOOK. If you are not an adult reading this, please DON’T READ THE BOOK!
Here are links to the Vanity Fair article and Smoking Gun's exposure of A Million Little Pieces:
Monday, July 2, 2007
Wanderings and Worries
I’ve really been enjoying this journey through Yancey’s book on prayer. Some of my “unconventional” beliefs on prayer have been validated and my understanding of communion with God has developed further.
There have been times in my life where I have been very legalistic about prayer and have been “guilted” into spending time because it’s what you are supposed to do. I defined prayer narrowly as a time beginning with “Dear God…” or “Father…” and ending with “In Jesus Name, Amen.” My more substantial times of prayer still begin and end in that same manner, but I’m also learning to appreciate more the “attitude of prayer” peppered throughout my day. I used to be very upset about times of intercessory prayer when I would voice a concern for someone and then “wander off” thinking about them, how they must be feeling, how I could interact with them, or just their situation in general. I often do the same “wandering” in prayers for myself as well. When I finally caught myself in this “goose chasing distraction” I would beat myself up and apologize to God for wasting His time and mine and secretly wonder if I was ADHD. Other times, I would feel guilty about not praying enough for a person and their situation but there were times they were heavy on my heart and I would worry for them and because I didn’t begin and end in the traditional manner, I believed I wasn’t truly praying for them.
A couple of years ago through conversations with people I respect and my own self-analysis, I became comfortable with those times of wandering and worry because I recognized that inherent in those times was an assumption that God was/should/will be at work. I assumed God (without making an “ass out of you and me”) and believe the Holy Spirit directed those “distractions.”
Here's how Yancey puts it...
There have been times in my life where I have been very legalistic about prayer and have been “guilted” into spending time because it’s what you are supposed to do. I defined prayer narrowly as a time beginning with “Dear God…” or “Father…” and ending with “In Jesus Name, Amen.” My more substantial times of prayer still begin and end in that same manner, but I’m also learning to appreciate more the “attitude of prayer” peppered throughout my day. I used to be very upset about times of intercessory prayer when I would voice a concern for someone and then “wander off” thinking about them, how they must be feeling, how I could interact with them, or just their situation in general. I often do the same “wandering” in prayers for myself as well. When I finally caught myself in this “goose chasing distraction” I would beat myself up and apologize to God for wasting His time and mine and secretly wonder if I was ADHD. Other times, I would feel guilty about not praying enough for a person and their situation but there were times they were heavy on my heart and I would worry for them and because I didn’t begin and end in the traditional manner, I believed I wasn’t truly praying for them.
A couple of years ago through conversations with people I respect and my own self-analysis, I became comfortable with those times of wandering and worry because I recognized that inherent in those times was an assumption that God was/should/will be at work. I assumed God (without making an “ass out of you and me”) and believe the Holy Spirit directed those “distractions.”
Here's how Yancey puts it...
Prayer, according to one ancient definition, is "keeping company with God." I like that notion. It encompassess the epiphanies that happen during my day: turning a corner on a ski trail and seeing a gray fox skitter away, watching the pink alpenglow on the mountains as the sun sets, meeting an old friend at the grocery store. By incorporating those experiences into my prayers, I prolong and savor them so that they do not fall too quickly into my memory bank, or out of it... [according to Alan Ecclestone] "In prayer... you pause on the thing that has happened, you turn it over and over like a person examining a gift, you set it in the context of past and future, you mentally draw out its possibilities, you give the moment time to reveal what is embedded in it."
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