I need an alignment.

Driving around listening to podcasts, it became apparent that I need an alignment.

My tires are fine but the accumulated wisdom of some well-informed podcasters indicated some critical life trajectories are off, slowly dragging me out of my own lane and into directions and places I shouldn’t be traveling at my age and maturity.

Interesting how we can sense that uncompromising tug in one direction or another and you know things aren’t rolling on as ideally as they should.

Diet, money, sleep, how I spend my elective time, all just went enough right or left of center to make a perceptible difference which I fear, without a realignment, could easily send me off roading on paths for which I am not designed nor well-suited.

For some, this may sound like a labored metaphor of a perfectionist splitting hairs but living by higher-than-average standards was something I was taught from a very young age. Moreover, living life according to a singular mission cues you to the ever so slight variations from that mission, demanding corrections to keep you on course.

So, I got home and had a chat with my Mechanic.

In the eye of the beholder.

The perks of being beautiful are undeniable.

By nature’s good genes or by other more costly means, life usually works in their favor. While the eye of the beholder is a factor, the result is generally the same. Handsome and pretty, (maybe a little of both these days) they hold an edge in most of their endeavors and advantages in life for which the rest of us slave to earn. Seems a bit unfair and privileged but it’s the way of the world–which brings me to my point.

This world of ours preaches standards unrealistic for most of us, yet we take the bait each morning spending ungodly amounts of time, product and money on a meaningless move from maybe a 5 to a 6 and a half on a good day. We put more effort into our outer appearance than we often devote to our own inner peace about who we are.

You were born with the gift of being truly beautiful in all the ways it matters most.

I’d like to think

I’d like to think

That all my friends

Who’ve met their ends

Caught flights to the heavens

And into the arms of a loving God

Now walk their streets of gold in wait for others like me.

I’d like to think

The best of them all

That it wasn’t the fall

Which took them down

To that fiery second death

For lack of belief in something and someone so much better.

I’d like to think

There are exceptions

And blessed receptions

For good people and nice folks

Who hoped that was enough

And paved their way with good intentions.

I’d like to think

I did my part

To win their heart

For One who saves

From eternal graves

To live the one and only life that truly matters.

I’d like to think

It all works out

And yet I doubt

It does or will for those who believed

Forever deceived by the lies of this world and now exist

No more.

And while I’d like to think I will miss you forever

no doubt I surely will.

hopes, dreams and other wishes.

Awake in bed alone in the early morning hours my mind wanders.

I realized a return to sleep was out of the question by then when I found myself compiling a mental list of regrets. Very poor use of time and an otherwise mentally healthy disposition I know, but I live on the edge occasionally and allowed it to continue a lot longer than I should have.

I wish I’d served in the Navy right out of high school when it was first offered me. I wish I’d gone into insurance or real estate early on and I’d be rich and retired by now. I wish I’d have beaten the hell out of Tony Franciosa when he called me out in 6th grade. I’d like to have been able to grow more than 12 hairs on my chest by now… And the list went on seemingly reciting itself for about 20 minutes. I don’t recommend it. Very few other morning mental gymnastics can ruin a day you haven’t even started yet.

The list kept growing as if it had lied dormant just under my skin much too long and I’d scratched exactly the spot it had been hiding. It was way more easy than it should have been.

Turned on the light, kissed my dog, and came to my senses. Said a brief prayer and laughed a little at myself for the waste of time and brain cells.

I’m fine. No damage done. The list of regrets dissipated with each sip of coffee, but the lesson that remained is how readily we can live in those regrets, should-haves and unrealized wishes with such ease, but can’t just as easily turn the tables and be thankful and happy with where we’ve landed in life so far.

By then I was here at the computer typing into a new Word document every fortuitous blessing, turns of events that once saved my life, and motives for living that usually accompany my first step to the floor out of bed each morning. I reminded myself I’m a positive guy, very slow to anger, and mentally astute as my list began filling the second page of the document which became my second prayer of thanks this morning.

Happy Saturday.

the least of these

I hadn’t considered myself among “the least of these” until starting over at 51 as an ex-felon working a $9/hour church janitor job apparently exceeded the qualifications.

But the surprise of a fifty dollar bill tucked in my back pocket by a passing stranger at Christmastime was eclipsed only by the words accompanying the gesture. “You’re making more of a difference than you know, young man.”

I’m not sure if I was more shocked being addressed as a young man or by the unexpected generosity of his acknowledgement of a stranger working a lowly invisible job during the busiest time of the church calendar. I’d just returned from plunging a TeenTime toilet full of poop and was en route across the courtyard to a hazardous cleanup in KidKare made by two siblings who’d had bad blueberries and Alpha Bits for breakfast.

I’d like to report our encounter was an interaction but his swift disappearance into the festive crowd of evening Christmas servicers was as angelic as his act of kindness. By the time I put my mop and pail to the ground and wiped my hand on my shirt to shake his hand, he was gone. I reached into my back pocket to find the gift he’d bestowed and while $50 was a helpful blessing this time of year, his words had been of much greater value.

Invisible people are all around us. Janitors, cashiers, clerks and other such name tags we rarely if ever read or better yet, take notice. Doing so need not cost 50 dollars or 50 cents, but only to know the words to their song on a not so silent night that hoped someone might care enough to notice and at the very least, tell them that in this world, they’re making more of a difference than they know.

the power of charity

People who want real change in this country put their money behind candidates with hopes but no promises it will actually happen. People who want real change in their city put their money behind causes of hope that both promise and create real change. The power of charity lies in its ability to be held accountable to actually deliver what politics only promises, and then usually at less than half the cost.

summer rain.





faster now,

they race

for standing,

driving down

in revving sheets

in a bouncing frenzy

each one competes





when the river won.

I sat down

to watch the cool summer rain

applaud the earth

and waved the checkered flag.

the cost of anxiety

Ever wake up in the morning unable to shake an uneasy feeling about the day?

Nothing you can put your finger on, but a sense that something upcoming is different. Not sure if it’s good or bad, just unfamiliar so you check your calendar, your schedule, your to do list and seemingly nothing is extraordinary, remarkable or noteworthy. Your morning routine continues but you’re extra aware of your surroundings, and not just a little superstitious about what to expect next and you take that little package of an unknown something with you out the door, on the road and at work, all the while, staying a couple steps ahead of yourself so that if it’s actually something, you’re not entirely caught off guard if or when it happens. It’s a little foreboding, a little interesting, and a lot more than you bargained for when you first woke up. You arrive back home retracing the events of the day, have your dinner, catch part of a show on TV and flip the lights off for the night and you’re back in bed where it all began more than half a day ago. And before you drift off, you realize the true cost of your prolonged anxiety that all began simply because you first believed the day ahead was yours alone to construct when it never actually was.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11