John has a humility that I admire.  He doesn’t claim to be anything more that the person that he is.  He will baptize with water today, but will yield to the person who can baptize with the Holy Spirit.  And by comparison to that person, John declares himself unworthy to perform even a simple act.

And yet John is remembered as a great figure from the Bible.  A man of great humility….

All around me, I see people shouting, “Look at me!  Look at me!”  They do it with their clothes, their cars, their houses, and countless other ways.  “Look at me!”  “Look at me!”

Watching a football game the other day, I got into a discussion about a player who was charged with a penalty for excessive celebration.  It’s OK to celebrate, the league says, but you can’t excessively celebrate.

I suppose I would know some instances of excessive celebration if I saw them, but others might be too close to call.  We should be able to celebrate little victories on the athletic field and in life, but let’s be careful not to draw attention to ourselves when there are others who are equally deserving of credit.

That running back that scored the touchdown had blockers – you know, the folks who quietly walk to the sideline and take their place on the bench, talking about the last series of plays and talking with their coach.  That’s not universal, I know, but linemen really don’t know how to celebrate like those backs and receivers do.  And while it may not be their job to score, they have as much right as anyone to celebrate or even excessively celebrate.

In this election year, we have candidates running around everywhere saying, “Look at me!  Look at me!” 

Again, I get it.  They are selling a product – their vision of America.  But too often, their message is about what they did and not enough about their role in what a whole bunch of people did.  That is, the President needs to give credit to a whole lot of people if he wants to claim victories such as national health care, ending the war in Iraq, and competing the operation to hunt down Osama bin Laden.  But more often than not, it will be about what he did, much as the Republican candidates will talk about their accomplishments in Congress or in the state house – as if nobody else did anything but them.

What I like so much about John is that he recognizes that he is there only to prepare the way for others.  That, I think, will keep a person humble.  Go ahead, break the record, famous sports person.  But that doesn’t make you the greatest ever.  It simply prepares the way for someone to come along one day to break the record again.  It’s a whole different perspective.

Even as I live my life, I try to realize that I’m probably never going to do anything spectacular.  I might, but if it happens, it will be more by chance than design.  Even as I too own a company now, I don’t expect to be Steve Jobs.  It’s not that kind of business and I’m not that kind of guy.

I’m not playing small, I’m just being realistic.  But I also think that it’s realistic to know that my actions – all sorts of them – are changing history as much as the actions of anyone else that’s walked the face of the Earth.  I don’t know anything about what may come of what I’ve done, what I’m doing, and what I will be doing with my life.

That’s where John’s faith impresses me.  He new that he would come before the Messiah, but he never knew the Messiah would come before him.  And yet, without that knowledge, he went about hos work and his ministry.  I try every day to have and to know that sort of faith.  Most day, I do pretty well.  But not every day….

I wonder sometimes, in the unwritten portions of the life and time of people in the Bible, whether their faith faltered.  Some religions would tell me not, for these were “saints.”  I’d like to think that their faith did falter at times.  I’d like to think that they were more like me rather than be told that I should be more like them.  I think it’s good for all of us to have doubts.  The question is, what do we do with those doubts?

As an aside, I learned recently that not every gospel made it into the Bible.  Gospel has come to mean a part of the Bible and it’s alternative meaning – an accounting of things, usually with a positive message – has been overshadowed.  Anyways, there is a gospel which tells the story of Jesus as a baby.  From what I gather, he had quite a temper and was prone to using his gifts to bully other children.  It was left out, probably to protect the idea that Jesus led a life without sin. 

We have this desire, it seems, to want people who are better than us to actually be better than us.  And when they fail, we are disappointed and disillusioned.  We really want Jesus to have been without sin and not to be more like us.  We really want Tiger Woods to have been chaste with anyone but his wife just because he’s a great golfer.  We really want Lance Armstrong to have not used performance-enhancing drugs because he was an elite cyclist and because he survived cancer. 

I want them to be more human….

I know that kids can sometimes be difficult.  I know that husbands can sometimes cheat on their spouses.  I know that elite athletes sometimes cheat.  And as much as I wish it was otherwise, I have to accept that these sorts of things happen.  Accept that they happen, not condone them happening.  There’s a big difference that is lost on a whole lot of people, I would venture.

Maybe I’ll never get it, but what I want is for people to be a little more humble.  Do I think it’s a humble gesture when a ball player points to the sky after a home run and thanks God?  Yes.  Do I think God gives two shits about a baseball game?  No.  The pious aren’t the ones hitting home runs.  It’s the one’s who can handle the inside fastball….

John had it right, I think.  I will do my work.  But don’t look at me.  Look at that guy, over there.  Or be patient and know that some day, someone better than me, better than you, will come along.  They always have and they always will.  And that shouldn’t make us feel less important, but more important, for we are preparing the way.

I’m blessed to have children in my life.  I don’t hope for “things” for them, I hope for happiness.  Above all else, I hope they find their place in this world and that they make a difference by being the very best people they can be.  Through my words (and my actions), I pray that this point will be abundantly clear. 

Someone greater will follow.  Me?  I’m just a voice….

I like that. I think there is perspective in that. I think there is peace in that….

Whether we’re building a house from the ground up, remodeling, or doing repairs to an long-neglected fixer-upper, we have this sense that we are doing something to the house. But what about the house and what it’s doing to us?

The house can build us – build our character – just as much as we can build it and its character. We can have a vision for our home. We can budget and do the work necessary to achieve that vision. And, when it doesn’t go quite as planned, we can learn from the experience. It’s a nice parallel for life in general. But what makes it particularly poignant is that our homes are reflections of our lives.

Looking at other people’s homes, you can look at your own and feel terrific, because it’s better than theirs or horrible, because it’s not as nice. But I prefer to look at my home and hope that it reflects me. It doesn’t have to be my color, or my style necessarily, but it has to reflect the way I view my life. It should reflect a thoughtful decision.

When I purchased my current home, I could have spent more and gotten something bigger and something in a different neighborhood. I bought the place because I didn’t have to do maintenance. It’s not that I can’t or that I’m lazy, it’s just that I wanted my daughter, not the lawn, to be my priority after my divorce. And it was plenty big and located in the village where I could walk to the library and two ice cream shops and the grocery store and post office. And I could walk to the village square for concerts and for the parades and community events that make small-town living so wonderful.

After I left the Chicago area, I never looked back.  I loved it and it will forever be in my heart.  And after I moved more recently, I never missed living on a lake. I’m glad I got to experience it for 12 years, but I don’t miss it. And I won’t miss this place either though I’m glad to have lived here for six years.

My focus isn’t on what I’ll be leaving, it’s on where I’m going.  I look forward to the next home – whatever it may look like – firm in the knowledge that this new home will build me, just like the others I’ve known in my life. 

It’s not just the building – the structure – that excites and interests me.  It’s the building – the process of personal growth.  It’s good, I think, that every now and again, we get to take stock in our foundation more than the knick-knacks that adorn our shelves and draw our attention away from what’s really important. 

The building process begins in earnest this year.  And as my friends at Lowe’s suggest,  “Let’s Build Something Together.” 

Riding on the airplane last month, I was offered the chance to purchase a pink lemonade for $2.00, with the proceeds going to breast cancer awareness and research programs. If I didn’t like that option, I could purchase some NFL game-worn equipment in an online auction. Or I could turn in yogurt labels. Or I could participate in a fundraiser walk. Or maybe I could pay to wear casual (pink) clothes to work.

I don’t necessarily think this is a bad thing, all of this focus on breast cancer, but I do think it has become so pervasive, so overshadowing, that we need to step back a little bit and think about what we’re doing. And at the risk of drawing the ire of more than half of the people on the planet – namely women – I would like to ask for a little balance.

I heard once that the leading killer among women is heart disease. And because it is so overshadowed by breast cancer, there are those who have suggested that we need to raise awareness of heart disease among women. That’s good, but it has to be shouted in order to get over the din of breast cancer awareness.

But do you know what the number one killer is among men? It’s indifference….

Actually, it’s heart disease, but I don’t hear much being said about a targeted effort to get that word out to men. And that despite the fact that there’s no need to cut through the chatter about all of those other men’s diseases we need to address. If there’s a movement – and I mean a significant movement – to focus attention on men and their health issues, I’m missing it.

What men do get is a whole lot of information designed to help them live what life they have with a thicker head of hair, with more muscle mass, with a longer penis, and able to maintain an erection for four hours whenever they get the urge. What we get is a whole lot of attention paid to men being "manly" men. We don’t get much about health issues and I think that’s wrong.

I understand the reasons for all of this emphasis on virility, for once upon a time, men were in certain roles – warriors/hunters/defenders. This was important work. And it was damn dangerous work too. Women had other roles that were equally important, albeit somewhat less dangerous.

For my two cents, I think we have celebrated these roles in a way that makes women more valuable than men. We have devalued men. We’ve made them expendable. We just don’t seem to care about them as much as we do women.

By way of example, I have joked (sort of) with people about the need to have brown ribbons that can symbolize men’s battles with prostate cancer. It killed my grandfather and a whole lot of other men. But where’s the outcry? Wouldn’t it make sense for NFL players to wear brown ribbons since their target audience is more likely to be men than women? Wouldn’t they have more influence on men getting necessary screening tests than they might on women getting annual mammograms?

And for what it’s worth, women talk about the uncomfortable and vulnerable feelings of being in the stirrups or the pressure of a mammogram. But we don’t really snicker about those things the way we do with prostate screenings. Maybe it is more invasive as a woman. I simply don’t know. But what I do know, is that invasive is in the eye of the beholder and to me, a prostate check is pretty darn uncomfortable and I feel very vulnerable.

Similarly, I think we can all think of a movie or two or ten where a man is hit in the crotch. Yes, it’s part of hand-to-hand combat that we might see in an action movie but it’s probably not necessary to advance the story. Sometimes, like it was in a recent James Bond movie, torturing a man’s genitals is very graphic and wholly unnecessary. But as a man, you really can feel the character’s pain, so I guess that’s what compels its inclusion (though there is little else with which Bond and I can relate, so maybe it’s not all that important that I relate after all).

But what bothers me most is when you see a blow to the crotch as part of a comedy. It’s slapstick, right? The man is hit, he doubles over in pain, and the perpetrator makes his/her escape while the audience laughs. Home Alone comes to mind….

Well, it’s not so much funny as it is painful and I think there should be more outrage about this image up on the screen. I will grant anyone arguing that women are sexually exploited in movie images, but I am familiar with outrage about such images. There’s no parallel outrage for men.

It makes no sense to me that men are so tossed aside….

And it’s not my point to say that men are more valuable than women, that their diseases are more disabling or lethal, or that they are anything more than equal in value. In all ways, I think we should do everything we can to treat women with all of the respect that they deserve. But I think men deserve the same.

Maybe there’s a feeling out there that we need a different kind of balance than the one I am promoting. Some would have us believe that since men ruled the world for a while (and screwed it up , they would have us believe) that balance is achieved by women having their turn.

I don’t think that’s the way we achieve balance. I think that for two people to each have their way for a period of time does little more than create resentments – and I pray that is not what you read in my message.

I think women are excellent leaders. Well, at least some are. Some are awful. And I think many men are excellent leaders. Well, at least some are. Some are awful. My point is that people are gifted differently. I don’t want to believe that we are inherently better at one thing or another – at least not in a way defined by gender. We may do them differently, but that doesn’t imply better. We need to listen to one another more about the different ways to approach problems and opportunities and move forward together.

I think many women make excellent parents. So too do many men. And some – both men and women – are awful parents.

I think what each brings to the parenting relationship is more about their passion for their children and their life experiences than any innate ability to parent. And yet, I can tell you from my own experience, that there exists a bias in the court system about the placement of children with the mother.

In my case, the quality of my parenting was called into question – if not by my ex, than by her attorney. My work – modern-age "hunting" was used against me. I left the house to provide for a family and returned home to be a father. But leaving the house to provide for that family was refashioned into a daily, ten-hour abandonment of my responsibilities as a father.

It was hardly that. It was, in my mind, about honoring my responsibilities differently than my ex. I was earning money, but I was also setting an example about the value of education, work ethic, communication, and more. Yes, I found peace in that, but I had to fight – to FIGHT – to remain the involved and committed parent that I always was because of this notion of my leaving my family behind to go to work while she stayed home. That wasn’t right….

All of this is leading to stepping back and considering the messages we are delivering.

There was an awful lot of pink last month. I really do hope it reminds us of the need to battle breast cancer and to honor those who battle it (principally, women). But I hope it can be a reminder of more than that. I hope that it can remind us that life is precious. A woman’s life. A man’s life. ALL life.

What I respect are good people – male and female, living and dead – who have changed and continue to change the world for the better. There are those who think that drawing attention to men comes at the expense of the attention paid to women and so they will declare my plea for balance to be offensive. If you are among this group, know that I respect you and your opinion too.

But don’t expect me to apologize for my opinion or the offense.

I hope that I’m not shooting myself in the foot by writing about my September to Remember, but it’s been so remarkable, in and of itself, that it can’t wait until the end of the year.  It’s deserving of a recap of its own.  In no particular order, here goes….

My daughter turned 17.  And she took the ACT.  Again.  And she started her senior year of high school.  And I couldn’t be more proud of her.

Her senior photos were taken in August, but it was this month that we saw the prints.  Gosh, she’s beautiful.  I say that with a father’s bias, but she really is beautiful.  Having said that, I hope people don’t under-estimate or over-estimate her.  I hope they see her for who she really is.  For as beautiful as she is on the outside, she’s even more beautiful on the inside. 

She’s a slightly above-average student, but she knows what she’s good at and excels in those courses.  That’s what matters to me, is that she is taken full advantage of the gifts she has been given.  More than that, she is a good person.  She is a good citizen.  She says “please” and “thank you” and treats people with respect.  When she was young, I always thought that if we could squeeze enough “good” stuffing into her, the world could tug and pull and maybe get its due, but she would have more than enough left inside to live a good life.  She has survived the rigors of high school and her sense of right and wrong has, if anything, matured.  She is thoughtful and she makes good choices.  Well, except when it comes to loading dishes in the dishwasher.  She constantly leaves them in the sink.  It drives me nuts, but I think there are plenty of parents of teenagers who would gladly swap my problem for theirs.

*****

Among other things, my daughter has good friends.  One in particular has ben a part of our lives for thirteen or fourteen years.  That may not sound like much to an adult, but it’s just under 90 percent of my daughter’s life and there are few people that can claim to have been there longer, and probably none of them would be friends versus family.

In August, my daughter’s very best friend suffered a loss.  Her father passed away.  It’s the second time that we’ve experience the loss of a father, of a friend, among her best friends.  It hits very close to home.  I can’t imagine not having another day with my daughter.  I can’t imagine the pain the daughters feel not having their fathers.

In this instance, I had been long referred to as a “second father.”  Flattering as those words might be, you don’t realize the full impact until the “first father” isn’t there any longer.  Granted, I won’t claim her as a deduction on my taxes, but I know that she has and will always have a claim on my heart.

At the wake/funeral, the room was filled with people.  Tears mixed with laughter as the assembled mourners remembered her father.  The box was filled with cards wishing their condolences.  And when the night ended, everyone went home.

Except that there’s no closure that night.  Closure comes later.  Closure comes in the privacy of our thoughts, not in a public setting filled with the thoughts of countless others.  And it’s that reason why I chose to send my card in early September. 

When the room clears, there will be a group of people who will be left.  A group of people who were there before, will be there now, and be there forever.  I wanted to remind her of this.  I wanted her to know that her father was missed by all of us, that he was a good man, and that he was a damn good father.  I wanted her to know that there comes a point when we realize that there are things that death cannot take away from us – most important of them is life.  Not his and certainly not hers.  No, his life had and continues to have meaning.  And so does hers.  She doesn’t have to live up to some unspoken ideal – a life well led in honor of someone else.  No, the best thing she could do is to live life knowing that he loved her unconditionally and that, above all, is what matters.  For no matter what direction her life may take, she will be loved in this world and, I’m certain, in the next.

*****

Over the Labor Day weekend, I was in Traverse City, Michigan.  It was a perfect trip, punctuated at the end with an exclamation point.  On Monday, we walked from St. Ignace to Mackinaw City – the full length of the bridge.  I’d wanted to do the bridge walk for a year, having seen the walkers the previous years.

There’s great imagery in doing a bridge walk.  There’s something metaphorical, something transformational about crossing over from one side to another.  I knew the walk was meaningful, but I didn’t realize at the time how the rest of the month would pan out.  I didn’t realize the extent to which the metaphor would apply to my own life.

But I don’t know why I would think otherwise.  September, as a month, is about transition.  It’s going from summer to fall and the beginning of the preparation for the winter that is coming. 

I’ve often thought about where I am in my life if my life was laid out as a calendar.  At 49, I have to be through the month of June, July, and perhaps into August.  There’s still plenty of time left to enjoy life and I love the fall.  I expect to love my life ahead as much as I love the season.  There’s something wonderful about the colors, the cool, the crisp.  There’s something about the smells and the sounds.  It’s a great time to enjoy life.

And if I know that there is a winter ahead, I will remember that among my days will be one where family and friends gather and we can give thanks for what we have.  And I know that there is a magic that comes with a baby, a savior, and everlasting life.  It’s a very good thing indeed, and I will approach the next season with all of the wide-eyed joy of a child….

*****

I’ve been working at the same place for nearly seven years.  And it’s looking increasingly likely that the firm will not survive.

It saddens me to think of a venerable, old name – a company with more than 100+ years of service to the community – coming to an end.  It hasn’t been a joy-ride for all of those years, but there was a pride I felt with the firm’s name.  One of the named partners in the law firm – Harry Franke – is one of the men who I most respect. 

Harry was the consummate gentlemen.   He proved that you could be a lawyer and a lobbyist and that you could do both well AND do them with dignity, integrity, and honor.  He was a bow-tie wearing master of the limerick.   He had a gentleness to him that belied the lion that lived in his heart.

Harry was a conservative man.  Before joining the firm, he was a Republican state senator and he made friends on both sides of the aisle.  He was a man who focused on building bridges.  He was a man who knew the art of the deal.  He was a man who worked hard to make sure that everyone had opportunity.  And he epitomized the ideal of community service. 

He was active in service to so many organizations.  He gave generously – of his time and his money.  He brought people together.  He was Facebook and LinkedIn embodied.  He was a writer a poet and was, in my mind, a good man.  He’s still alive and is quite advanced in his years.  I doubt he knows what’s happening to the firm that bears his name, but it is a shame that this should be the fate.

The firm – the collection of lawyers that remain – may not deserve better, but Harry’s good name certainly does. 

*****

And out of adversity comes opportunity.  I left the firm in mid-September and set out on my own.  Scary stuff, starting a business.  But all of my clients agreed to come with me.  For that, I am most thankful. 

It’s ben a month of doing my work, of starting my business – accountants, lawyers, bankers, tech people – and of transitioning clients from one place to another.  It’s a change of address for me and for everyone that followed me from one place to another.

I can’t really say that I’ve loved it.  It’s hard work.  But it’s taught me that sometimes the best that we can do is to put our heads down, lean into the wind, and keep walking.  Some days, I didn’t make much progress, but I made some.  Some days, the doubts won in the battle against my optimism, but you just keep walking.

Amy Grant wrote in a song that, “If it all just happened overnight, would you know how much it means?”  She’s so right.  We all want our dreams to come true, but we’re all so impatient and so hard on ourselves while we wait.  I know I am.  But I really believe, with all my heart, that this is a beginning of something very good. 

I’m proud of myself for having the courage to do this and even more proud to be surrounded by people who think I can make this work.  I can feel their support with each step I take.  They seem to know me better than I know myself at times, for they know that the negative voices are not the “real” me.  They know that they are the voices of years of nay-sayers who are stuck in their own lives and want nothing more than to have company in the quick-sand of their situation, of their own doubts.

Again, I am reminded of one of my favorite phrases – “Only gods can command success.  We can do better.  We can earn it.”

I don’t know if I’ll be successful or not, but I pledge to work hard to earn everything that comes my way….

*****

Pledge.  Promise.  Commit.   Important words in my book, for we are, in the end, what we say we will be or something else.  But if we aren’t what we say we will be, then we are living a lie.

Maybe it’s our stories that are wrong.  Many of us struggle with being comfortable with who we are, so we “puff up” our lives.  Our stories don’t match our actions.   Maybe it’s our actions that are wrong.  We are comfortable with who we are, it’s just that the reality of our actions don’t match the reality of our stories. 

The two – our words and our actions – have to match.  It’s there, in that balance, that we find peace….

I made a pledge in September.  A promise.  A commitment. 

It’s traditional that a man ask the father of the bride for permission to marry his daughter.  He asks for permission, much like he asks the woman to become his wife….

It’s not enough to just ask.  Not in my book.  For what’s missing in just asking is the pledge.  The promise.  The commitment.  That only comes later, on the day of the wedding, memorialized in the vows between the bride and the groom. 

Asking for someone’s hand in marriage could very well be the easiest part of the life journey.  Making a vow on the wedding day may be the next easiest.  And I’m not trying to throw a wet rug on the passion fires that burn on each of these days, but it’s in the life and the living – the day to day – that we live up to our pledges, promises, and commitments.

To love, honor, and cherish.  From this day forward.  In sickness and in health.  Rich and poor.  Forsaking all others. 

Anyone can say the words, especially when they are prompted by a pastor.  But those words are the true north on the compass that will guide our lives going forward.  Sure, we’ll have to make course adjustments from time to time as we drift a degree or two every now and again – we’re human, after all – but it is this true north that will guide our actions.

It’s funny, but we all live our lives as if we are going from one place to another.  We have this notion that we are going from Point A to Point B.  I see things a little differently.  I think we’re going from Point A to Point A. 

On the day I was born, I pushed out of a port and onto the seas of life.  At the end, I will return to the same port.  The same is true in my marriage.  Today, we are preparing for a journey – planning a marriage while planning a wedding, but mostly planning the marriage.  And next October 20, we will push away from the shore and travel life together.  And always, always, we will return home, no matter where we go, for home is wherever we are.

I love being in love.  I love being in love with her.  I love her….

*****

And there’s so much more to tell.  But that will have to wait until December….

I started playing with a new schedule in my Outlook calendar, hoping for something that was more of a week on, week off sort of thing.  When I had finished, I had something I really liked.  It reflected the new realities of my life and hers.  Regrettably, there was one thing that wasn’t so new, and that was the lack of communication on these sorts of things from my ex.

I asked.  She never answered.  The story of us….

I bring this up as background, for I woke up one Sunday morning to a message on my iPhone.  It read, simply:

“Dad.  Tomorrow.”

I read the message that morning and probably turned as white as a ghost.  “Dad.  Tomorrow.”

My dad died in 1998.  Was this a message from him?  And if it was, what the heck did “Tomorrow” mean?  Was this a foreshadowing of something?  Of something good?  Of something bad?

When I unlocked the screen, the message disappeared.  I looked at my text messages that would display in this manner and there was  no message.  It was gone, so there was no way to review the message again….

But the impact had already been made.  “Dad.  Tomorrow.”  It was a rough couple of minutes.

And then it was explained to me that I had a calendar reminder set.  In my calendar there was a clear entry for “Dad.  Tomorrow.”  It was the newly conceived schedule and it seems that when I set the calendar appointments up, I’d asked for a reminder to be delivered 18 hours prior to the appointment.  Hence, my daughter would be with me on Monday and the reminder was delivered at 6:00 a.m. on Sunday.

It was a simple explanation, but it got me to thinking.  What if it weren’t a calendar reminder?  What if I really had received a message like that.  What if it really was a warning about something ominous?  Or, I suppose, an invitation to something wonderful, depending upon your perspective on something really ominous, like death?

Just a few weeks early, I turned in a cat to the animal welfare society in the county.  His behaviors were such that there was simply no way that I could continue to keep him.  I knew long before he did that his day was coming.  I knew that morning that I would be packing him up and dropping him off, never to see him again.  Everything in his world was about to change.  And I’d thought a lot about that too.

Given a choice, which would I take?  Would I want a warning – that something is going to happen tomorrow (good or bad) or would I rather just live the day without expectation?

I don’t know that I’ve really come to any conclusion just yet.  Applied to life and death, I lost one parent to a heart attack and I’ve watched another battle cancer.  I don’t know that either is better than the other for either the person or those around them.  I’m inclined to think that I’d rather have one more day, even if those days were filled with pain, for some of life’s best lessons are learned when we feel pain – if not for us, then for those around us.

For me, the lessons from my dad’s sudden death are the appreciation of the life we have and a desire to let the people we love know that we love them.  Pretty good lessons too, but I worked a lot harder to discover them.  And perhaps that makes them more meaningful.  As you can tell, I’m pretty conflicted here.

And maybe that’s OK.  Maybe we don’t need all of the answers.

In church today, we heard a story about Jesus asking the disciples what the people thought of him.  And the disciples spoke out freely.  Jesus then asked what the disciples thought of him.  And they were silent.  At least for a time….  We were reminded by the pastor that there’s a world of difference between asking about facts and asking our opinions.

Eventually, Peter steps forward and offers a few thoughts regarding his feelings about Jesus.  Jesus listens and declares that Peter is blessed.  He didn’t say Peter was right or wrong, only that he was blessed.  Blessed with the ability to think.  Blessed with the ability to speak out.  And blessed with the courage of his convictions.

There are a lot of things that confuse me about this world.  A lot that confuse me within my own little world.  And if they don’t confuse me, there are things that confound me, that frustrate me, that escape me.  But that’s life.  And it’s OK to not have all of the answers all of the time.  But what’s not OK, it seems to me, is to not be asking questions.  To not be willing to share ideas, without feeling at risk for doing so.

I think that’s the blessing of being a child and the blessing of being around children.  They ask great questions.  It’s a pity that the day comes when they become self-conscious about those questions.  Jesus wanted us to be childlike, and perhaps this idea of feeling safe enough to have and to voice our questions is one of the things he finds so appealing.  I know I do….

Reader’s Digest asked parents recently to identify the ways in which their children have inspired them.  They answered – to follow my bliss, even if it seems silly; to realize that imagination is a wonderful asset; to find laughter in anything; to have more amazement; to never give up; to let my heart guide important decisions; and to love the little things in life.  Great answers.  But taken together, there it is not so much that the children have inspired the parents to do anything more than to be more like children.  Funny really, since conventional wisdom tells us that it is for us, the parents, to teach them to be more like adults.

So maybe something really awful or something really wonderful will happen tomorrow.  And maybe I’ll get advance notice or not.  But I’m here today, filled with questions.  And I will offer them up not “in confidence” but rather WITH confidence.

I don’t have all of the answers.  And that’s just fine by me….

With the exception of an embarrassing couple of years in college, I’ve never been one to plan my life around a TV show.  I missed plenty of episodes of Friends and Seinfeld and plenty more of ER.  It might have been “must see TV” for someone, but for me, I just wasn’t that invested. 

Oh, that period of time during college?  I sheepishly admit to scheduling classes around General Hospital.  That was the whole Luke and Laura era and I can’t honestly say how or why I got hooked, but I did.  A job and the real world quickly cured my addiction. 

Unlike many, I read the manual that came with my VCR, so I could record something if I wanted to.  I just never really wanted to.  The VCR was a playback device, effectively negating the “R” in its name.  But when the DVR came about, I finally started to record things.  It was easy to use and the picture quality was great.  I just wish there was a way to have the contents of the DVR’s hard-drive copied onto something I can keep.  I know there’s a way, but it sounds like a hassle….

So, I’ve taken a shine to a couple of shows that are on during the summer.  My favorite among them is a show called In Plain Sight.

In Plain Sight is about the Federal Witness Protection Program.  The two main characters – Mary and Marshall – are more than just partners, they are best friends.  Actually, they’re probably more than that.  They’re more like soul mates that just never crossed that line.  I like both characters and their relationship, but that’s not what I find intriguing about the show. 

There are really two things that pique my interest….

The first is the opening and closing monologues.  Delivered by Mary, they set the stage for the lesson we are about to learn.  Yes, there are lessons to be learned from this cops and robbers show, and ones that go far beyond “just saying no.”

Mary is defined by her father walking out on her and her family when she was just a child.  He just disappeared.  And it haunts her….

Her monologues are about love, about family, about secrets, about knowing – really knowing – ourselves.  She doesn’t conclude that the world is flawed or that she is flawed, only that the world is what we make of it.  In her world, it’s OK to be angry or sad or bitter if you really are angry, sad, or bitter.  She suggests that it’s in the acceptance of our emotions – and of ourselves – that we can begin to deal with them.  Maybe that means we change.  And maybe that means we stay exactly who we are, but we wear our skin more comfortably. 

By way of example, I offer this quote:

We all live in hiding. In one way or another, each of us conceals pieces of ourselves from the rest of the world. Some people hide because their lives depend on it, others because they don’t like being seen. And then there are the special cases, the ones who hide because… because… because they just want someone to care enough to look for them.

And another, which I think has layers upon layers of depth:

Perhaps the most difficult choices to make are the ones that deny us those things our heart wants most because as it’s been said, "Without reason nor prudence, the heart wants what the heart wants and more often than not, it will not be denied.”

And so that brings me to the second thing that makes me a fan.  It’s the idea that their job is to place and protect people who are in witness protection.  Well, it’s not actually the job as much as it is the emotions that must come with the place/protect process.

Imagine, if you will, that YOU witness a crime and you need protection, both before and after the trial.  Bad people want to hurt you.  And because of that, you are offered a chance to fall off the face of the planet….

It’s Wednesday as I write.  Tomorrow, I don’t show up for work.  A “For Sale” sign goes up in front of my home.  My bank accounts are all closed.  My phone numbers don’t work and neither do my e-mails.  My Facebook and LinkedIn and Twitter accounts are all closed.  This is my last entry in a blog that will disappear from the Internet.

Before the week is out, my family will know that I have gone away but not where.  They know that I cannot contact them.  Friends wonder why I don’t call, write, text.  I’m not at church.

Not long after that, I will be in a new city.  I may have a whole new look – maybe a head of hair and a moustache.  And I will either have or won’t have the people I love around me.  Maybe I get one person, but certainly not all of them.  It will not be me that gets to decide whether they come with, it will be the government, for they will protect only those who need protection.  You don’t get to take everyone.  You may have to go through this transition alone and build a whole new life.

And all because you saw something.  All because YOU were in the wrong place at the wrong time….

I suppose there was a time or two in my life when witness protection sounded like a really good idea.  The thought of hitting the reset button – new job, new city, new friends, new everything….  I don’t have those thoughts these day, but I know there was a time or two. 

But I watch this show and I’m riveted by the ordeal that people are going through in order to stay out of harm’s way – to survive.  And I’m riveted by the compassion with which the main characters handle their charges.  On the one hand, they are consummate professionals, but on the other hand, you can see that the are sympathetic.  And more than that, they are empathetic.  They “get it” because they have experienced the pain of disappearing….

How strange it must be to know that a loved one is out there – in plain sight – but that you cannot contact them.  How strange to not be able to ask how they are doing.  How strange to not watch them grow, if they are children, or watch them age gracefully if they are adults.  How strange.

Maybe that’s what what heaven is.  A giant witness protection plan run by God.  Granted, I don’t think God needs us to testify to pass judgment, but then again, maybe we all really do need to testify.  Maybe the only way to feel “safe” about our relationships is to be in His protection. 

And if heaven really is a protection program, it will be painful indeed to have a life end, to disappear, and to not continue my relationships and my life’s work.  But I hope people will remember that I am there for my own good.  That I am waiting for the day when we can all be reunited.  Always and every day, I am with them – in a song, in the wind, in a smile from a stranger, in a shiny penny they find in a parking lot.  Always I am with them.  In plain sight….

In Wisconsin, we pass about four hundred laws each legislative session.  Something feels terribly wrong about that….

It seems to me that we should be able to live our lives with fewer laws and more personal responsibility.  Avoid the seven deadly sins.  Live a life with the thirteen virtues.  And for good measure, obey the Ten Commandments.  That should be enough, I would think.

But there are laws and rules at the local, county, state and federal level to “clarify” things for us.  We can’t just “play fair,” we need to define what “fair” looks like.  At least what it looks like to the party in power at the time the law was passed.

I realize, of course, that there are things that neither the church nor Mr. Franklin could have contemplated when they developed their lists of sins and virtues respectively.  I would have liked for the church to weigh in on certain traffic-related issues – like merging onto a freeway – so that I would have a better basis for my declarations that the driver “go to hell.” 

Still, the sins and the virtues have provided plenty of guidance for us – including how we conduct business, how we treat one another, and how we make our society work (including merging onto freeways). 

What’s different about the sins and the virtues is that they place the responsibilities and consequences squarely on the shoulders of the individual.  One, the sins, speak of consequences.  Commit a sin and you go to hell.  The other, the virtues, speak of rewards.  Live a virtuous life and prosper by it. 

It’s simple stuff really.  At least it’s simple for those who are comfortable with the idea of intent.  I know, it can be mighty difficult to figure out the “intent” of another person or a body of people (such as a legislature), but I think there’s generally enough there to figure it out. 

We all agree – I hope – that killing is wrong.  We all agree – I hope – that everyone should get a fair trial.  So how is it that we agree, but can’t seem to agree.  If killing is wrong, it’s wrong.  And that includes the use of the death penalty.  And if everyone deserves a fair trial, are we really willing to watch as yet another killer walks free.  We should be worried about the potential to wrongly execute someone and the advocates for those on death row are numerous.  But who looks out for a family when a killer walks because of a technicality?  Where are the advocates for them?

Maybe all of the laws are necessary because of that group of people who just won’t live up to a societal standard – avoiding sins or living the virtues.  But I have to tell you that I am sick and tired of having to make rules for their benefit rather than not having rules for the benefit of everyone else.  We do too much in this country to protect those who fail instead of rewarding those who succeed.

I know, in a capitalist society, those who succeed are rewarding with financial gain.  But if that’s the case, then why does the government or anyone else have the right to take the financial gain of some in order to pay for the programs that provide a safety net for others? 

If this was a stump speech instead of a blog post, half the crowd would be cheering and the other half would be charging the stage.  I get that.  But you haven’t heard the whole of it…..

See, I think that those who succeed DO have a responsibility.  They have a responsibility to those who have failed but who continue to seek success.  They do NOT have a responsibility to those who will not try….

When people have money, they donate it.  I would rather give more of what I have – directly – that to have it taken from me and given to someone else.  I’m not talking about all of the bureaucracy, which is a problem.  I’m talking about the denial of an opportunity.  An opportunity to get to know this person who has failed but has failed forward.  This person who has desire.  This person who wants to prosper so that they might help the next generation prosper.

My relatives came from Europe.  They came to the United States with one thing in mind.  Opportunity.  They wanted an opportunity.  And in two generations, they had college graduates in the family making good incomes, putting their own children through school, volunteering in the community, and saving for their retirement and to transfer wealth and the opportunities created by that wealth, to the next generation. 

It’s interesting that it is just as likely as not that the next generation of a successful family will fail.  The main reason?  They lack an understanding of the hard work that it took to generate what wealth a family might have – not only it financial wealth, but its intellectual wealth, its moral wealth, and the value that is vested in the family’s name. 

We are led to believe that opportunity will not take hold in the soil of poverty.  It is just as likely that it will not take hold in the soil of wealth.  Perhaps it’s not true of plants, but I believe it to be true of people:  It is not the soil that matters as much as the quality of the stock which has been placed in that soil and the manner in which it is nurtured.

By way of reminder, the seven deadly sins are:  sloth, pride, lust. gluttony, greed, wrath, and envy. 

Also by way of reminder, the thirteen virtues are:  temperance, silence, order, resolution, frugality, industry, sincerity, justice, moderation, cleanliness, tranquility, chastity, and humility.

There’s some overlap among the two lists, so I won’t address every sin and virtue, but I ask you this:  What is the probability of success for someone who fits this description?

He/She is hard-working.  They are honest.  The are humble.  They use only the resources they need.  They don’t let things bother them.  They look within for their satisfaction rather than to material things.  They are well-groomed.  They have a sense of right and wrong and always choose what’s right.  They know how to have a good time, but know when to say when.  They are a good partner and a good parent.  They will work hard to get the job done. 

What is the probability of a society succeeding when its citizens fit that description?  And isn’t that what we should be striving for instead of more laws?

Personal responsibility has come to be misrepresented.  Most people think it means that I take care of myself and to hell with everyone else.  And if that’s not what it means to some, it certainly has something of an “every man for himself” feeling to it.

I disagree….

I think personal responsibility is about living up to a code of conduct, a set of standards, a set of moral guidelines that point us in the direction of good.  In the direction of God.  And it’s about following a path where we help one another.  Where we lift each other up and push each other to achieve more than we thought possible.

Alas, there is a flaw in my thinking, for surely there will be those in every society who simply don’t want to put in the effort to succeed – but who demand the fruits of the labor of others.  “Not fair,” they cry.  Their cries will be answered by those who would provide relief.  Bless them and their good intentions, but they must be cautioned against creating a cycle wherein the cries are met with money and food (in the name of compassion) and not real help.

Jesus told us that we are better to teach a man to fish than to give them a fish.  It’s a powerful message – to both those who need help and those who might give it.  It’s a challenge to us all to take more responsibility – to earn our success and to share it once we have achieved it. 

There’s an equally powerful message, the source of which, regrettably, I don’t know.  It says, “You cannot give what you do not have.” 

If we want a better world, it must start with each of us.   

We are asked to do two things.  We are asked to restate our faith and, perhaps most importantly, we are asked to be a part of the child’s life.  We are asked to help the child live into the promises being made.  We are shepherds for this little lamb….

The father held his child and as he did, he openly wept.  I immediately liked this man.  I liked that he understood that this was far more than a ritual or cause for a family gathering.  This child was being claimed by God! 

After the baptism, the service continued, but I found my mind drifting some.  The pastor was doing a fine job – let that be said – but I kept coming back to that image of the father carrying his child. 

*****

I’ve never been a pall bearer.  I don’t want that to sound as though I’m disappointed, but I do think it’s an honor to be asked.  The one time that I was asked, I couldn’t commit to being there through the end of the funeral service, and so I had to respectfully decline.  My brother served in my place. 

As the pastor spoke, my mind drifted. 

It was ironic that my brother served in my place, for his relationship with the man he carried could be described best as “strained.”  Some minor indiscretion of thirty years earlier had opened a would that had never been healed.

This man was also being claimed by God.  And those who carried his casket that day were playing a small part in shepherding him as well – if not spiritually, then physically.  I wept openly – for the man in the casket for certain, but for the missed opportunity to help lift his body and his soul to a new place.  I don’t know what my brother felt and I suppose it makes no difference really.  I wished I could have done more….

*****

I haven’t been to a wedding in a long time.  I love the “wedding” part of a wedding.  It’s the reception to  which I am more indifferent.

At the wedding, I am asked to take an oath to help the married couple.  I know from first-hand experience that marriages fail, so I take the oath seriously.  I don’t think many people really understand what they are pledging to do.

To the right of the groom is the Best Man.  I’ve never been anyone’s Best Man.  I’ve always wanted to carry the ring in my pocket.  I always wanted to be right there at the moment when the marriage – through God – is declared.

The rings may just be tokens of the love between the couple, but they are symbolic of so much.  It is just as well, I think, that the diamond is given in proposal, for the wedding band should be more simple. 

A marriage is about the union – the circle.  There is no greater value in the marriage than the love that is expressed by these simple bands.  A diamond cannot outshine the value of these simple bands that will consummate this love before God, friends, and family.

And the Best Man carries this symbol in his pocket.  He presents it when called upon.  And he takes that oath having been chosen by the groom to be at his side.  It’s so much more than organizing a bachelor party, but I wonder how many take on the responsibility blindly.

*****

Driving in the car last week, the conversation meandered wonderfully.  I was asked, “If you could ask God one question, what would it be?”

I thought about it and several questions came to mind.  “Why?”  “What does it mean?”  “What will become of me?”  And then I hit upon my answer….

“How can I help?”

I don’t need to know all of the answers.  My faith in God tells me that there is a reason and that in playing my small part I can make a huge difference.  And so I bow to something larger than me.  And I offer my help.

Maybe it’s carrying a child.  Maybe carrying a casket.  Maybe carrying a ring.  Maybe carrying someone else’s cross for a while.  Or it could be lifting someone’s spirit.  Or even lifting a prayer. 

You see, there are many things for which we can be remembered.  It would indeed be a fine epitaph is someone said of me, of any of us:  “They helped.  They lightened my burdens.  They cared.”

It’s the two-hour notice that was at question.  There’s no law requiring two hours and the constitution only speaks of their being public access to the process.  There’s more at question, of course, like whether or not a court can prevent a law from being implemented even before it has become law. 

On all points, I probably agree with the Supreme Court.  Indeed, the courts should not over-step their authority and prevent a law from taking effect.  Lots of laws are passed with questionable constitutionality, but before the court can strike them down, they have to actually become law.  For a court to intervene before that point is to become a player in the legislative process and, well, that’s not how it’s supposed to work.

But it’s the other aspect of their decision that haunts me.  I agree with the court that no laws were broken and the constitution was not breached when the legislature held a meeting with less than two hours of notice.  But they did violate a rule….

It’s hard for me to applaud the idea that something is “right” simply because there wasn’t a violation of the law.  The court ruled correctly, but the legislature acted incorrectly.  But not illegally….

I think of children in school.  I think of my religious beliefs.  I think of workplace.  I think of my relationships.  And then I ask myself….

Is it enough to simply not break the law in these interactions or is there a higher standard to which we should be held?  Or leastwise, a higher standard to which I want to live my life?  And what of all of the “rules” to which I comply?  Are they without meaning simply because they are not the law?

I defer to the genius of Robert Fulghum to more thoroughly talk about the valuable lessons we can learn in kindergarten, but I think of a rule such as, “Hold hands when you cross the street.”  It’s not the law, but it’s a good idea.  And so someone turned that good idea into a rule. 

We lose some of our civility, I think, if we live in a world where the letter of the law trumps a well-considered rule.  Sure, we probably have too many rules and too many laws, but I don’t want a five year-old telling his or her teacher that they don’t have to obey the hand-holding rule because it’s not the law.  You may think that’s absurd, but that’s the message we’re delivering to these kids.  And these kids will grow up to be adults.  Obnoxious adults, I would venture.

We all have been victim to the sorts of people who take advantage of the rule/law to bend the world to their favor.  And to be clear, I’m not talking about bending it a little, I’m talking about bending it a lot.

Frankly, I want more from my legislators because I want more from the world.  I want legislators to comply with the rules – their own rules – as well as the law.  I want them to be people of law and order.  I don’t want them writing laws for all of us to follow while thinking about the loopholes they might use to violate it.  So much a purist am I, that I would rather legislators exempt themselves from the effects of their own legislation (as they often do) rather than exploit the language of the law to assert an exemption.

In part, I think it’s this twisting of the rules, this bending of the law that drives people crazy.  It sickens us to think that there are murderers and rapists on the street because of some technical issue with the prosecution that allows the perpetrator to walk.  Except in these instances, it is indeed a violation of the law or an infringement of a constitutional right that opened the door to freedom – not some low-level point of order like a rule.

My world doesn’t have to be completely black and white, but let’s not pretend that we don’t need black and white.  We need the extremes of “right” and “wrong” – of black and white – to make the shades of grey that are part of the world we live in. 

Yesterday, we were told that something was right because it wasn’t wrong.  That’s like saying that something is white just because it isn’t black.  That, to me, just doesn’t make sense….

Actually, I have been in church, but I haven’t been in the one that I’d been going to for the better part of the last six or seven years.  You may already be uncomfortable with what will follow. 

For some, you may be bracing for a falling out or a tear-down of organized religion.  You will be disappointed.  Others may note that my last post was on politics (of sorts) and so it’s only fitting that I tackle religion.  But this isn’t really about religion either.  At least not in my mind.

I wrote this letter because it was in my heart.  The letter was not written because the  reader “deserved” an explanation as to why I’ve not been in church.  Neither is the letter written to “explain” myself.  Instead, the letter is written to tell a story – about how our lives change. 

So it’s a love letter really….

You can love the letter or not love the letter.  It is only meant to be demonstrative of a larger point.  There are ways, I believe, to find joy in the transitions in our lives.  Granted, divorce, job loss, death are not the things about which we are typically joyful – certainly not when compared to marriage, a promotion, or a birth.  But to surrender to the idea that the end of something – a transition – somehow negates any or all of the good that may have come from is, in my mind, off the mark.

It’s a love letter because it acknowledges the good that came from spending time together.  It’s a love letter because it is a wish for the best for both of us, from both of us.  Quite simply, it’s a love letter because it is written from the heart.

The letter follows….

******

I haven’t been around much of late, for the center of my universe has changed.  At least in part….

I started coming to St. James about the time that I was going through a divorce.  It was something of a preemptive strike.  I knew that I would be going through a difficult stretch in my life and felt like I needed a spiritual home.  I had, regrettably, "drifted" from church.  Sunday mornings at our house were about sleeping in, the newspaper, and head-starts on whatever recreational plans we might have.  God was in our lives when it was convenient.  The world revolved around us.

At the time, I remember describing myself as being, "spiritual but not religious."  Now, I realize that was just a way of saying that I didn’t want my lack of church to be confused with a lack of faith.  Put another way, I was worried about what other people would think of me.  I wasn’t worried nearly enough about what I would think of me or what God might think of me.

So I knew that I needed to change some things.  After the divorce, I would have a new home, a new marital status, and a new relationship with my daughter.  You would think that would be enough of a change….  I felt as though I was being uprooted precisely because I thought my roots could be found in the earth (and on the Earth).  I needed to think bigger….

What I was missing was a community.  What I was missing was a relationship with God that was unearthly.  A relationship that was more heavenly.  More divine.  One that provided the stuff into which I could drive my roots and grow….

That’s what St. James provided for me.  It provided a place where I could come to be among a family whose bond was based on shared belief and, more than that, action in support of that belief.  And I loved it.  From a point where I’d been unable to find time to go to church, I arrived at a place where I couldn’t imagine church not being part of my Sunday.  And more than that, I learned to carry the idea of "the church" with me each day and every day.  Church was not a place to wash away my sins, it was a place to be energized.  Church was not a place to be lectured, it was a place to learn.  It was eye-opening.  It was mind-opening.  It was heart-opening.

These days, I’m happy to report that I have been blessed by love again.  Better still, she is just as passionate about her relationship to God, and Christ, and to church as I am.  It’s a joy to sit next to someone to experience a service.  It’s a greater joy to talk about what we have learned.  And it’s a still greater joy to live our lives with faith and intention.  We are fortunate to have so many people to look to as models of how to live our lives – both in our faith families and in Christ.

I can’t tell you that God did or didn’t bring us together.  There’s really no way for me to know.  But there’s an awful lot to suggest an answered prayer, details which would turn this missive from one about faith to one about romance, and that is not my intention.  What I know is that we are blessed with the opportunity to make choices.  Love is one of them…. 

I heard someone say one time that love always ends badly for one person.  A partner dies.  A partner leaves.  At first blush, it’s a jaded comment, but I’m not sure that it’s not true.  The question then is this:  Knowing that love ends badly, is it worth pursuing anyways?  For me, that choice is a resounding, "Yes." 

But it’s there that I realize that life is complicated by our ability to make choices.  She’s from the Fox Valley and has younger children.  I’m from East Troy and mine will be going to college in a year.  My life has been shifting  and will continue to shift to the Fox Valley.  There’s more excitement than hardship in this choice, but there are hardships nonetheless.  I miss being with all of you in church. 

Indeed, the center of my universe has changed – from here to a place two hours north of here.  But the center of my universe hasn’t changed nearly as much as it did when I was at its center.  I’m attending a new church these days, but as I enter this new phase of my life, I have God at the center of my universe.  I am rooted in both heaven and earth.  And for that, I have the faith family of St. James to thank.

Like a ship approaching the horizon, I don’t know that I will be able to see you all for much longer.  But I rejoice in our time together.  I take you all with me in spirit.  I look forward to visiting again.  I wish God’s love and blessing on all of you.