Makin' Bread

I went to training this morning to my new job with Panera Bread. Educational tidbit #1: Panera is a morphing of the words "pan" [which means "bread"] and "era" [which means "time of"]. So "Panera" literally means "time of bread." Apparently they love their bread at Panera. In addition to trying to turn a profit, I think the company views itself as redeemers of the concept of bread in America. They believe that the mass manufacturing of bread [like Wonder Bread] has done an injustice to the product. So we're all about bread. I can dig it.

Other thoughts:

• There's going to be more to learn at this job than I thought. I'm a pretty quick learner but I think it'll take weeks rather than days to pick up everything.
• When guys ten years younger than me are doing my training, I know I'm ready to be humbled.
• I had to make my name tag today. It was like art class all over again.
• We had to watch these lame films about bread and life; I swear they could've substituted "Jesus" for "bread" and it would've been a sermon.

Honestly, I'm excited about getting started. I only work three hours on Monday, but Tuesday morning my shift starts at 5:00. It's finally starting to become real.

Pretty cool.

Summing up

I'm sure I'll touch on this later in the weekend, but in case I don't get the chance . . .

It still hasn't hit me yet that I'm wrapping up here at Mason. But this is my last official official office day. I'm ready to go: my office is packed up [I'm taking a load of books to the POD this afternoon], and all I really have to do today is my hospital calls. And I have a few thank you notes to write, but that's it. I can't believe that I won't be coming in here anymore. I had a peaceful walk from the UDF to church [the car will be done by Monday, praise God], so I'm prepared for it.

Speaking of my beverage run, I'll admit that it was a bit emotional going into UDF for the last time today. Ralph and Elaine have greeted me most mornings the past three years with some friendly chit-chat. Hopefully I brightened up their day a little as they always did mine. I'll miss going in there.

But thinking back of my time here, I'm amazed at how much I've learned. I feel like a completely different person than when I started. I'm not saying I've arrived, but I've matured immensely at CCM. The blessing of being at a church this size is that I've seen almost everything that you can deal with in ministry; it was like a ten-year experience wrapped up into three. I know that God brought us here to prepare us for our ministry to come. There's no way I was ready to start a new church a couple of years ago; now I'm chomping at the bit.

As I've said before, this is as settled as Kelly and I have ever been. I really thought that Mason would be the place where we spent the rest of our lives. But the task at hand is so great, it's hard to be sad for too long. I'm already getting fired up at the future.

The thing we'll miss the most is the wonderful people. If we could wrap some of them up and take them with us, we would [but I guess that would be like kidnapping, so we better not]. But it's not like we're moving to Nova Scotia; we'll see these people again. I just pray that God allows us to build a community with people like those we've had the opportunity to minister with here at CCM. Mason will always have a special place in our hearts.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Office Space

I have one more day in the office here at CCM. I've boxed up all my books and now will have to decide how to get rid of some of the junk I have no desire to take with me. Throughout this entire "moving on" process I've said it's a happy/sad transition. The emptier my office gets, the sadder it feels. One more Friday to go.

Anyway, I thought I'd take today to lift up my fellow co-workers here at Christ's Church. I've spent the last three years with them and there will certainly be a void in my life when I don't get to see them everyday anymore. I was going to give everyone an individual shout-out, but that would take way too long. So I thought I'd reminisce about some office memories by asking questions. I apologize in advance for revealing too much about life on the inside, but it'll be therapeutic.

• Howard, would it kill you to carry your phone with you so we don't have to listen to your voicemail alert go off for two hours?
• Micah, is the elevator broken?
• Carol, why is the fax machine beeping?
• Mike, do you have a phone call on line one?
• Jessica, whose day is it to pick lunch?
• Tom Moll, how good is our insurance?
• Mary Jane, are you painting another room?
• Minnie, can you help me with this postage machine?
• Cathy, can you tell ____ you don't see me here and send them to my voicemail?
• Max, are there any corrections to the calendar?
• Dave, what is a pastie?
• Art, can you take this guy's offering envelope?
• Drew, what's wrong with me using A-sharp instead of B-flat?
• Sarah, do you work here?
• Lindsay, why can't I get Fiery print?
• Nate, did I give you all my receipts?
• Tom Dorrington, is there a way to get an email back?
• Susan, how do you get candle wax out of the carpet?
• Troy, did the high schoolers keep their clothes on?
• Keith Keeran, where are you?
• Tom Asher, who are you?

You guys have been awesome. You'll definitely be missed. I hope I will too.

My Wife: Amazon Woman

Kelly's new book by Standard Publishing is finally out. I feel bad that it's taken me this long to post about it, but it sorta took backseat to the whole new baby thing. Kelly edited Encounters With God, a compilation of stories by teen authors in addition to interviews with Christian musicians like David Crowder. Kelly was able to interject some of her own stuff throughout the book.

I'm really proud of Kelly for this, perhaps even more proud than if she had written an entire book by herself. Many of the authors in the book were first published in Kelly's Encounter Magazine. For years she's been working with these aspiring writers to get their work seen. So not only is she a writer, but she's developing future writers. That's how you extend your influence into the future. And they've already tabbed her for a sequel!

Here's the cooler part: you can buy her book at Amazon [she's not getting royalties, so this is suggestion offers no financial impact to the House of Carr]. AS you check it out, however, I would encourage you not to click on the Kelly Carr hyperlink on the page or you'll be sent to some books by another Kelly Carr that aren't quite as . . . um, wholesome. No, that's definitely not my Kelly Carr.

Congrats, honey! It's awesome to see the result of your hard work.

Funerals

I co-officiated a funeral with Howard Pauley yesterday. Of all the ministerial tasks, I would say that funerals are definitely the most bizarre. I've only been involved in five or six of them myself, barely enough to be able to form an opinion about [Howard, on the other hand, has officiated a couple hundred of funerals. Of course, he worked in a retirement village]. It's a fascinating experience. By the way, I've been fortunate these past three years to be around Howard and Tom who do amazing funeral services.

As the minister, you're included in a family's most private moment. It's a time when a family is usually totally transparent. They weep openly in front of you. I still haven't figured out all the right words to say. I guess that's how it should be. While it pains me to have to be involved in funerals, it can also be a blessing. It gives you an opportunity for spiritual conversation with people who already thinking about. True, some people shut down during these times, but most people want to talk about what happens to you when you die.

Recently I've been really thinking about funerals. Actually, I've been thinking about those who officiate funerals. If you died today, who would do your funeral? Would it be me or the minister at your home church? Would it be a long time family friend? Fortunately, most of you who read this have a long time before you have to worry about this question. But then fast forward a bit. Say I live another fifty years [shut up, it could happen]. Who does my funeral? Chances are, it's someone I haven't even met yet, or perhaps someone who isn't even born. Crazy, huh?

Like yesterday, this gentleman whose funeral we conducted, I talked to twice. Twice ever. And I was there speaking at his funeral. Some of his family members shared thoughts, but mine and Howards perspectives were based on the last couple years of this guy's life.

I'm not sure I have a point with all this, except that it makes me think about what I'm doing with my life. If I'm going to be eulogized by some shmo who barely knows me, I better get working on some good stuff for him to talk about.

Lack of Direction

Kelly and I really enjoyed our Labor Day weekend. We were incredibly busy, but had plenty of time to enjoy ourselves. Since this is my last week here at Christ's Church I'm starting to reflect a little more on all that's happened during the past few years. It was this reflective mood that allowed me to see a fault in myself this weekend. However badly I want to keep it from you, I believe that the world will be a better place if I just admit it to you all:

I hate to get directions.

So what? "Just a typical male," you mutter to yourself. But it's a real problem with me. God has given me an internal GPS system that allows me to get my bearings better than the average person. Why should I use maps like normal people? But every once in awhile there's some interference with the incoming signal. And when that happens, it can be a problem. Just this weekend I had three different instances in which this flaw of mine reared it's ugly head. Let me list these incidents for you:

Incident One: Friday night. there's a birthday party for my Grandfather at my aunt and uncle's house. They live relatively nearby, so why bother to get directions? I hadn't been to their house in over fifteen years, but I knew the general vicinity of how to get there. Or, at least I thought I did. I found what I thought to be their neighborhood and drove around for about five minutes. Nothing. After backtracking six different times I finally call my brother who informs me that I was about half-a-mile south of where I needed to be.

Incident Two: Saturday morning. there's the Bright, Indiana softball tournament in Harrison, Ohio [doesn't make sense to me to host a softball tournament in an entirely different state, but who am I to question?]. Last year when we went, we took the long way to get to the park. I knew a backroad shortcut, capable of subtracting five minutes from the drive. I was driving separately from the rest of our team in case we went far in the tournament; this way I could get back for church Saturday night [um, I didn't end up needing to drive separate]. Working with my dad's business in high school and college gave me familiarity of the area and knowledge of the shortcut, so why bother to get directions? Of course, there was a thick fog that morning and I totally drove past the street the ballfields were on. I wasn't late but I didn't beat our team there, which meant I heard it from them all morning. I did find the shortcut on the way back though. So suck on that.

Incident Three: Monday afternoon. we're looking for a Cingular Wireless store so we can switch over our cell phones. We've had Nextel, but most of Kelly's family has Cingular, so she [and we] will be able to talk to each other for free. Kelly looked in the phone book for a store and found one in the Union Center area. "Piece of cake," I thought to myself, "Union Center isn't that big so surely we'll be able to find it easily." True, Union Center does straddle both sides of Interstate 75, but it's all new construction, so it should've been simple. After ten minutes of searching we stopped in the Barnes and Noble to look in an atlas [and for a quick bathroom break]. We couldn't find the street on a map. After seven more minutes of meaningless searching I finally broke down. The weekend had gotten the best of me and I did the unthinkable:

I stopped in a gas station to ask directions.

To my credit, the store was two miles away in a place not even considered as Union Center. And the street name that was in the phone book wasn't even there. It was in a strip mall on the corner of a major intersection. But still, I've been defeated. This whole weekend really has me doubting myself. I'm almost depressed.

But then again, just five minutes ago Howard walked in to my office; we're doing a funeral together up in Washington Court House this morning and he said we'll need to get directions to the cemetery. Directions? Ha! Who needs those?

Hurricane Relief

I know some of you are wondering how you can help out the victims of Katrina. Christ's Church will be collecting a special offering this weekend, as many churches will most likely do. But if you want a more specific point of contact, the Journey Christian Church is a new church in the New Orleans area. You can read about what they;ve been going through on their website. Because of the infrastructure in New Orleans, they're having all people who want to donate funds through a church planting organization in California called Stadia. I would vouch for both of these organizations as places where your donations could be used for great good.

The Reason for the Seasons

It's almost official: summer's over. What a drag.

With the launching of exploding projectiles on the banks of the Ohio River this Sunday night [try not to lose an arm, BCoates], summer officially comes to a close in the Greater Cincinnati area. True, we're about to embark on my most favoritist season of them all- the one I long for. I love it when the weather turns a tad cooler, the leaves begin to change colors and football rules the land. Fall's a joyful thought indeed, but not even a phosphorous waterfall cascading from a bridge can keep my mind from dwelling on the artic season to come. Autumn seems to evaporate all too quickly as winter enters the fray. Before you know it, it's freaking cold outside, your nether regions begin to freeze over and you long for the warmth of the sun. Fortunately though, it doesn't stay cold forever. Eventually the trees will turn green again, you'll begin to thaw out, and you can sense summer coming once more.

Despite all my whining, I love changing seasons. I wouldn't trade them for anything. Most people feel differently. Some people despise the changing seasons so much that they try to eliminate them from the equation. Observe these Northerners that move south to coastal regions with tropical climate. They think they're besting the system until something like a hurricane disrupts their lives. Then they long to be back north.

As I wonder why God gave his changing seasons, I keep coming back to this sense of longing that's within us; this innate desire for something more. Maybe it's just me, but many times I can't wait for the future because there's the chance it could be way better than it is now. I tie myself into a Scarlet O'Hara philosophy that believes, "Tomorrow is another day". However much we enjoy this present reality, we're hoping [or longing] that what to come will be even better. Of course, what we fail to think is that it could be much worse. But whether it's the weather [nice word selection] or one's financial situation, few people are content with now; we're never fully satisfied.

So is this longing, this lack of contentment, God's way of showing us that there's something more than this world? Are the seasons just another way that God has imprinted His message on our hearts so we can figure out that He's there? It's this longing for more, this uneasiness that it's not all right down here, that should get us thinking about who's running this world [for those of you not clicking yet, it's God, not the other guy].

I'm not going to take the time to fully work through this thought, but I hope you're able to track what I'm saying here: as much as I hate the thought of it getting colder, it serves a purpose. It's yet another window by which we can observe God moving. I believe God is the answer to this longing in our lives. However crazy the world is, it makes the most sense through Him.

And, if anything, we get to wear sweaters in the winter, and that's pretty cool. So praise the Lord and bring me a turtleneck. I'm ready.

The Hardcore Core

How did the church start?

The answer I learned in Mrs Elliot's fourth grade Sunday School class, was "with the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost." This Jewish festival day, almost two thousand years ago, was when the Holy Spirit first entered into the followers of Jesus, allowing them to speak the message of Jesus in foreign languages that they previously hadn't known. This display spawned the crowd to accuse the disciples of public intoxication, but Peter was able to parlay the charge of drunkenness into a sermon opportunity. The result: three thousand people were baptized in Jesus' name. You can read all about it in Acts 2:1-41.

But my personal answer to the "how did the church start?" question precedes the Pentecost experience. I like to think it occurred about ten days before that, as told in Acts 1:6-11. The eleven disciples [remember Judas was dead at this point] were with Jesus, grilling Him about the future of Israel. Jesus told them that His plans weren't limited to Israel, that they would take His message into all the world. No sooner did Jesus finish saying this and, better than the ending of a Las Vegas show, Jesus exits stage left [or I guess, more accurately, stage up], ascending into heaven. The eleven guys are left there, gazing up at the sky with no idea what they're now going to do. I've always wondered how long they stood there because God finally sends an angel to interrupt them and say, "Go do something already." Brilliant. I love to claim that as the beginning of the church because it was about people having no idea and God knowing exactly was to come. It would be His Church. That's how I'd say it started.

So years from now, the question might be asked, "How did Echo Church start?" And we'll be able to respond in a similar way: with eleven people having no idea what to do [figuratively] gazing into the sky.

We met last night as a core group for the very first time. Like I said, there were eleven of us there [Aaron's wife Dorota would've made twelve; she just left for a five week trip to her native Poland]. I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but it was awesome. We didn't do anything flashy; we just read some Scripture, chatted, and prayed. But it wasn't about what we did last night, it was about what happened. God brought some people with a similar passion together in the same room at the same time to begin something new for him. We were able to pray to Him for the community and what will happen in the weeks and months to come. Like I said, we come to Him clueless, acknowledging that this will be His Church.

The morning after, I'm still excited because it's more real now than it's ever been. One of the things I said last night was that, whatever the future holds for Echo, that we were there at the beginning. So as we continue on this journey and are able to have some "rear-view mirror moments," this will be a wonderful one.

So I'm cool with eleven. It's rather Biblical.

Theft and Sensibility

It's tough to ignore the tragedy in the south in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. I've never seen such widespread devastation on American soil in my lifetime. It's time's like these that I love to see the church [universal] mobilize and reach out to those in need. It's a great testimony of Jesus.

I'm not sure how this might come out but I find it interesting that, with so much destruction and death around, the media have chosen to devote so much coverage to the looting going on in New Orleans. They're basically saying, "we can't believe that someone would take advantage of this situation and steal from stores." If you haven't seen it yet, I think Fox News is showing it on a loop.

You might think me crazy [apparently it's going around] but let me step out on a limb and defend these looters. I know all the arguments as to why their thievery is wrong, in addition to the obvious Ten Commandments reasons. Yes, the stuff isn't theirs in the first place. Yes, it's against the law. Yes, it's unfair to the store owners. Yes someone has to pay for it [we'll all be paying for it in higher insurance premiums and federal aid, whether or not these people steal]. But, then again, it's pretty easy for us to judge them while watching it on cable tv, lounging in our [dry] recliners.

But I find this situation somewhat different than others; this is not your normal looting situation. They're in the midst of a national disaster. Just check out the film they keep showing of the looters: they're not swiping TV's and stereos, they're taking food and clothes. After losing everything of the little that they had [25% of families there live below the poverty line] they're trying to survive.

So before you get all holier than thou and begin to pointing a finger honestly answer this question:

What would you do?

If your kids were starving, their clothes were ruined and it will take days for aid organizations to help you out, would you steal for them? Friends, I'm a minister. It's my job to take the moral high ground. But if all hope was lost and it was a situation between life and death for my family, I'm not sure I wouldn't be joining that mob.

So go ahead and rip me as a bleeding-heart liberal, but with all that's going on down there, you're telling me that this is the major problem? I'm not saying it's right, but I have a hard time saying it's wrong.

Got a job!

I'm happy to announce that I won't be unemployed after leaving Christ's Church. Yesterday I was hired at the Panera Bread in Hyde Park. I'll do my training next Saturday morning and start regularly on Monday Spetember 12th. More on this to come in the weeks ahead.

Dumb

Since we've announced our move, we've had an incredible amount of encouragement from people, reaffirming the decision to start Echo. It's been incredibly reassuring since I feel that we're laying ourselves out and taking a risk. I cherish all the positive words but, like in everything in life, it's the negative comments that ring loudest in your ears. There have been people that have made some ridiculous statements [not about us personally, but about what we're doing]. I'd like to share one such conversation I had with someone a few days ago. Please understand before I get into this that I've dismissed the comments as ludicrous, but I think it could prove helpful to address some of the claims.

This person, a man in his fifties who could be perceived as a mature Christian, came up to me shaking his head. The first words out of his mouth were, "I can't believe you're that crazy." Obviously, he had no idea who he was talking to, but I let him continue with little interruption. I might not nail his exact words, but here's the first junk he said to me:

"I can't believe you're going down there to work with 'those people.' I work with 'those people' at my job. They're out of their minds. You need to be careful about that place because, believe me, the armies of darkness are taking it over. It's downright dangerous down there."

One thing I've learned over the years from living in a more prejudiced part of the country is that any reference made to "those people" is usually not meant to be about plumbers. The racist detection meter in my mind becomes to turn on in anticipation of a slur. But at this point, I'm still operating under the assumption that he could be referring to impoverished people. Sometimes people say things that don't come out just right and I try to give them the benefit of the doubt [for instance, as for the "armies of darkness" comment, I instantly thought of the Bruce Campbell movie that I first saw a couple of years ago with some friends in Florida. The best quote, "Gimme some sugar, baby"].

Anyway, I stop the guy and tell him that's exactly why we're going down there, to prevent the "armies" from taking over. We're going to set up shot, talk about Jesus and see if that changes the neighborhood. Unfortunately my racist detector was accurate, for he continued:

"You can try all you want, but I doubt it'll do any good. I know how those people are. And the worst are their ministers. I went to a funeral one time at a church down there and the minister said, 'the reason this guy died is because of whitey. And the only reason you whities is here is because you feel guilty.' So go ahead down there and try, but it'll be about impossible. And it's dangerous, too."

At this point I did my duty and beat the man to death with a shovel.

OK, no I didn't, but I sure did want to.

I actually stood there and pretended to listen to his comments while nodding my head. It took a couple of more minutes of listening to that crap before I could work my way out of the conversation and far away. No, I didn't refute him and you could say that I didn't do my part to correct a brother who was wrong. But I was so angry that I was either going to ignore him or tear him to shreds. And for the next two weeks I'm still a minister at Christ's Church and I don't want to do anything that would reflect poorly on the church. But if this were a few weeks from now, I might indeed have warmed the back of my shovel with his nose.

I don't have the energy to deal with this subject in this posting, but racism is one of the biggest problems the church faces. And, this is the worst part, it's taking place from within. Some of the most racist people I've met are regular church goers. It makes me want to puke. Like I said, gimme a couple weeks and I'm not going to have to take it anymore.

Until our churches repent and do their best to rid the racism within, how can we ever expect to experience the blessing of God?

Beit Carr Expansion

I apologize if I haven't been able to contact you personally, but I just need to get the news out here:

We're expecting . . .

. . . a baby, not a puppy.

We found out a few weeks ago, but wanted to wait until we had been to the doctor to confirm it. Once we were certain, we started to let the news out. Friday night we went to Lexington to make the rounds and Saturday morning we woke up bright and early [6:00am] to return to Cincy to tell my parents. We even swung out to Bright, Indiana to tell my brothers in person, but neither of them were home; at least their wives were [sorry sis, but I just couldn't get to Indianapolis]. Since then, it's been a whirlwind, dropping the news left and right to anyone who will listen.

The baby should arrive in early April. So if you're tracking at home that's new church, new home, new baby. Yeah, I guess you could call us crazy to be leaving a family friendly community/church to move to the city, but we don't care. We decided we wanted kids before we even decided to plant the church. While beginning the plans to start the church, we discussed whether or not to put off having a baby. We decided that we still should trust God to provide and proceed as planned. Sure, the timing could be better, but when is it ever perfect? Like I said, we'll bank on God and see how it turns out.

Kelly is doing well. She hasn't had morning sickness, but gets sudden, insatiable urges to eat. Mark Mueller, an elder here at Christ's Church, said his wife Heidi was the same way. He used to keep food around in his pockets for emergency food need. I might have to do the same. Kelly's the champ. I'll do my best to be "the good husband" in the weeks to come.

Blogging note: I guess I should state that, since it'll be something like ten weeks before we'll know if it's a boy or girl, I'm not sure what to call it. Until then, I'll be using "the baby" as the specific noun and "it" as the pronoun. I find this better than using Kelly's current terminology [Peanut] and WAY better than mine [Viking]. This is not meant to imply that I don't believe that this baby is a human being [work through that double negative], because we do. But it takes to long to type he/she. So be patient with me till we figure it out.

I have about seven months to wax on about this, so I'll try not ramble on right now. We're just ecstatic. So I'll leave you with our baby's first picture [unfortunately, I think it looks like me]:

Ain't it cute?

"Come on, ride the train . . . "

I always found it fascinating that you could tell how old a tree is by counting the number of rings on it [by the way, apparently the study of tree rings is called dendrochronology]. Of course, in order to accomplish this, you have to cut the tree wide open and kill it. But at least you can do something to figure out it's age.

I always thought it a tad disappointing that you can't do the same with human beings. No, not cut them open with a chainsaw, but instantly tell how old they are. Just last year I went to a rated-R movie [Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, for you Focus on the Family types] and the girl behind the ticket counter asked to see my ID. "Are you serious?" I asked. She didn't say a word. Later I told Kelly that I couldn't believe she thought I was only seventeen. "Actually Steve,"she said, "if you were seventeen you could've gone in. That girl must have thought you looked sixteen." Brilliant. I'm closer to forty than to sixteen.

But I think I might have found a viable litmus test to figure out someone's age: take them to an amusement park and see how they react. Yesterday afternoon, Kelly and I took-off work a little early to use some free passes to Paramount's Kings Island [why isn't "Kings" spelled with an apostrophe?"]. What I discovered during our four hours there shocked me to the core. It was my tree ring moment, and even worse than the movie incident:

I think I'm old.

We decided that we were going to take it easy at first and walk around. We first rode the log floom or, how you might know it, "The Wild Thornberry's River Adventure." That cooled us down a bit. Then we worked are way past the Beast [yes, I understand that's blasphemy to you hardcore roller-coaster people, but work with me here], and ended-up in what used to be the old Coney Island area of the park. As we walked past the Zephyr, that ride with swings that goes round and round, Kelly suggested we go. I didn't worry about looking un-manly for riding this, but rather went along happily to enjoy the experience.

Well, that's when it happened. As the ride stopped I stood up and felt sick [spoiler alert: no chunks will be blown in this post]. I wasn't so much "throw-up"sick, but my head was spinning and I felt dizzy. Yep, after that I was done for the day. Fortunately, so was Kelly, so I didn't have to wuss out all by myself. We spent the rest of the time watching rides and doing all the "old people" activities like going to the top of the Eiffel Tower and riding the train. Honestly we had a wonderful time, but this has got to be a turning point in life.

Just a few years ago Kelly and I took a vacation to Cedar Point and spent three days riding rides. No problems at all. But then on our last trip to PKI [that's what everyone in Mason calls it] I got a little queasy after a full morning and afternoon of riding. And then there was yesterday. I looked around at all these parents taking their kids on rides and wonder if I'd be able to do it someday. I wonder how many of them fake enjoying the ride to give their kids the experience. Makes me respect them even more.

So even though I look sixteen, my amusement part rings show that I'm fifty-two. Maybe I should be looking forward to retirement.

These [NIKE ACG's] Were Made For Walking

OK, before I start taking hits for this posting title, I want to remind you that Jessica Simpson merely covered the "Boots song" song for the Dukes of Hazard soundtrack. It was originally recorded by Frank Sinatra's daughter Nancy. So there, take that Simpson Family [note: this doesn't include you Nick, because you're a hometown guy].

Into day two of the car under repair. Yesterday I was able to get in contact with the company with whom I have the warranty. They were very nice over the phone, but will be sending a representative over this morning to inspect the engine. The engine is no longer in my Explorer; James from Kings Ford called yesterday and asked permission to remove it from the car. "Go ahead. Why not?" I answered. It's not like it'll ever work again. So as long as the warranty company takes responsibility, it's no big deal. We see if I have to play hard ball with them.

The past couple of mornings I've had Kelly drop me off at the UDF up the street so I can get my obligatory morning Diet Coke. I then walk the half mile or so down Mason Montgomery to the church. I'm really enjoying the walk. It's been rather comfortable climate-wise [no rain] and the sidewalks are in great shape. I just put in my earbuds, enjoy tunes from Coldplay and Mat Kearney, and watch the sun rise. I swear, the whole walking thing makes me feel urban. And I like it. I'd love to get a job working in Mount Adams when we move down there so I could walk to work in the mornings. Of course, I guess if I had to do this in the middle of January, I might be singing a different tune.

I always found walking somewhat boring and an inconvenience. I also thought it was the way you stayed in shape when you were too old to do strenuous exercise anymore. But when we moved to Landen, we had access to the beautiful trail around the lake and began to take walks. Either I've matured in the way I view walking, or I really am a wuss.

It's interesting that, after two days, I have yet to pass by someone on the sidewalks. This pedestrian pavement only periodically perceives people and predominantly those who plod along at a prompt pace [or you could say "only joggers use the sidewalks every once in awhile"]. I wonder why more people don't walk to work around here. I don't think it's for a lack of businesses; there are office parks all over the place. I guess it's just the nature of suburban sprawl: we don't live near where we work. That's too bad because there are so many advantages to it. I've used at least half of the gasoline I usually use when I'm driving during my walks. I'm such a conservationist.

Walking is another reason why I think I'll love urban dwelling. Walking gives you time to yourself. Walking slows your life down. Walking makes you think. All scary things, but maybe if we all did it a little more we'd be happier, less stressful and live a little longer.

Yikes!

There's so much I could write about today. So much, in fact, that I have designated this post as "Yikes." I had quite a few "yikes!" moments that I'd like to share with you. According to Merriam-Webster, "yikes" is "probably an alteration of 'yoicks'-- used to express fear or astonishment." Just thought you'd like to know.

Obviously, I'm still in a state of mourning after the ousting of Bob Huggins at UC. I was really planning on writing a lengthy criticism of President Nancy Zimpher [who really looked rattled at the news conference yesterday], but I'm going to hold back. It's not like Huggins ran an incredibly clean program; she had enough evidence to fire him with cause. I just hope she knows what she's doing because, unless she brings in a top-notch coach, she just cost herself a job. Good luck, lady. All I can say is, "Yikes"

I could also talk about the wonderful remarks by a Mr Pat Robertson concerning the President of Venezuela. Hugo Chavez is a tyrant of a ruler [which was quite visible when I was down in Venezuela last year], but you can't say things like this: "I don't know about this doctrine of assassination, but if he thinks we're trying to assassinate him, I think that we really ought to go ahead and do it." What a great example of spreading the love of Christ throughout the world: encourage the assassination of public officials. Yes, something should be done about him, but hearing a preacher encourage murder is a little icky. Yikes, sir.

But I had my own personal "yikes!" moment yesterday. As I was driving back to the Johnson house in the afternoon, just half a mile from their house, my Explorer felt like I ran over something. In an instant, the engine shut down [along with the power steering] and I had to maneuver my car off the major thoroughfare and into the parking lot of a business park. I popped the hood and could see that my engine belt was mangled around the center pulley of the engine; also, one of the pulleys was snapped. Fortunately, I have Micah Steele, car repair extraordinaire, on speed dial. He said to go up to the Car-X on the corner and see if they'll fix it. So I took a walk up the street and explained to the guy inside my problem. He was able to pull up a diagram of the engine and asked me to point out which pulley busted. Sure enough, it was the crankshaft. This would be a little more complicated than simply replacing the pulley: they could have to replace the whole engine.

I was actually handling it all pretty well considering this pretty sucky news. The Explorer's paid off. But fortunately, when I bought it, I went ahead and paid for the extra long warranty: the 10 year/100,000 mile kind. I have no idea why I did that [I never get the extra warranty on anything] but all this should be paid for. I'm sure I'll have to wrestle with Ford today to make sure they don't skimp out on the deal. So I'm not freaking out or anything, but I am in a some sort of stage of disbelief.

So all I can say is "yikes!" Yikes, indeed.

Random Thoughts

Once again it's a Tuesday and I'm sitting in Panera, loving the Wi-Fi. I've been here since 7:30, enjoying my free time and the refillable beverages. I just realized that I really only have one more "Tuesday off" before I leave Christ's Church [because of Labor Day, I won't take a day off my last week]. I'm meeting Aaron for lunch in about an hour for lunch and there were a few random thoughts I wanted to share with you.

I'm addicted to reading other people's blogs. I've been able to fill a couple of hours reading blogs by religious/theological egg-heads. Really, y'all who read this should be thankful that I only get pensive every once in awhile. If I wrote some of the geeky stuff that some of these people write, you'd find other ways to occupy your time while searching the web.

Mozilla Firefox is cool. For some reason, Apple's Safari browser doesn't play well with Blogger. I downloaded Mozilla Firefox so I can blog without having to use html code. It's awesome because you can open multiple browsers in tabs at the top of the page. This way you can easily access numerous pages at the same time. I used to use it at church until we were banned because network administrators couldn't monitor it. There are a few rebels left at the church who have [against IT policy] Mozilla hidden on their computers. I refuse to rat them out [Minnie Clements!].

Diet Pepsi is horrible. How this beverage is still in existence bewilders me. That's the only bad thing about Panera: Pepsi products. Of course, if they had Diet Coke, I might never leave. Sure, I could drink Mountain Dew, but how healthy is that? I'm actually switching back in forth between tea and Diet Pepsi because it tastes so bad.

I pee alot when drinking caffeine. Sorry about the lewd nature of that statement, but it's the truth. I've had to use the bathroom three times this morning. Of course, with all the liquids I drank this morning [which I won't document for fear of being chastised by my wife] it makes perfect sense. Wait a minute, I'll be right back . . .

OK, that's better. Back to those thoughts:

Everything needs a charge. In anticipation of my day away from the house, I charged my cell phone, laptop and iPod. And I was afraid the rechargable batteries from the camera would die before I got Kelly's picture downloaded. If the power had gone out last night, I'd be screwed.

What are these people doing in the community room? I'm right next to that room at Panera that they let groups use. It's an ecclectic group of people of varying ages and sexes, all reading through some kind of notebook. It's not a book club and I can smell a Bible Study a mile away. I wonder if they're plotting out a world domination strategy. If so, I wouldn't mind joining their group.

That's all I have for now. I'll keep you posted.

Worship Song Fridge Magnets

Kelly loves those fridge poetry magnets. When we finally get our own refridgerator again, I'll have to get her some of these.

School Daze

I woke up this morning for the first day of school.

For a week or so, the Johnson's have been telling us of their first day of school tradition when they take photos of their kids before heading of to school. Kelly and I found this fascinating, so we were up by 6:00 to witness the photo shoot. Kelsey was up, ready to start her junior year of high school and they now had the pictures to prove it. Melinda asked if we did stuff like this on the first day of school when I was growing up and I responded, "My mom was a teacher. It wasn't exactly the most joyful time in the house."

I'm not sure I would want to go back in time to remember my first days of school. The only "first day" I was ever excited about was my senior year of high school and that was because I'd never have to go through it again [I'm sorry but, in this instance, I don't think college counts]. In fact, I've never really liked school. This is interesting because I have a master's degree [which means I was in school a long time] and I absolutley love learning. But I hate school. Maybe it's because of all the useless stuff I was taught. Guess how much geology I've used in my adult life? If you answered "zero," you're being generous.

I've listened to the kids at church talk about what they do in school now and it's a joke. They take web design classes, everyone has a study hall, and they're always on some kind of early dismissal schedule. It's ridiculous. No wonder these kids love school so much: they do nothing and get credit for it.

So before I fall off this soapbox, I'll just let you know that the Johnson's inspired me and I took a picture of Kelly before she left on the first day of school this morning:Yeah, I know, it wasn't her first day of school, but if I was going to a school and she was there, I probably wouldn't have hated it so much.

Open the doors . . .

Yesterday Kelly and I had the opportunity to meet with the folks at the Walnut Hills Christian Church. The congregation was voting on the proposal by Echo Church to rent out their building on Sunday evenings as a meeting space. We were able to get down there to the church just after their service had started. I was excited for Kelly because this was her first opportunity to view the inside of the building; she later agreed that it was indeed a blessing to have found this place. We made our way to a pew in the middle of the sanctuary and joined them in their time of worship.

I'll admit, it was a sparse crowd. There were twenty-four people there, including us. The people of the Walnut Hills Church would admit that they've been struggling as of late to find out exactly what God has called them to do. At such a discouraging time in their history, having a new church ask to move in and use their building could sound rather intimidating. But they embraced us with open arms. Literally. After the service, it seemed everywhere we turned we were getting hugged.

After the service we were invited to have lunch with church members in their fellowship hall; every week they have a meal after their service in case somebody of the street comes in and needs food. It wasn't something that we had planned on, but it was a good time. We sat at a table with people who have been at the church between twenty and fifty years. One of them said that even though their numbers aren't what they used to be, the spirit in the church is much better. It was enlightening to hear their perspective on how things were going.

So when it came time for the vote, they asked me to say a few words and answer some questions. I just laid it all out there: that we have no idea what we're doing, but we know that God was calling us to do something in that neighborhood. There were a few softball-like questions that followed ["Now what denomination are you?"] and that was it. When it came time for the vote, Kelly and I stepped out into the sanctuary and sat in the pews.

We sorta looked around at the empty room. I asked her, "Can you see it?" and she nodded. I guess if I were really marketing the Echo Church concept, I would've asked, "Can you hear it?" but I missed out on that one. After only a couple of minutes the chairman of the board came out and told us it was a unanimous vote: they're giving us [at least] a year to have our services there. It was an unforgettable experience. Once again, God moved and we were right there watching.

So with this out of the way, we can proceed with our first core meeting for Echo Church. If you're interested [or know of people who might be] in joining us on the ground floor of our new church, let them know. It's going to take place next Wednesday night [August 31st] at 7pm at the Walnut Hills Christian Church on 1438 East McMillan Street in East Walnut Hills.

Yep, that's where we'll be meeting.