When It Rains...

I first moved to Colorado when I was 8 years old. I am now 46. So I have had a "relationship" with the state for 38 years. I remember back in the day, the heat would build up until around 3:00 in the afternoon, maybe a little later, and then a storm would roll down the mountains. It would rain like crazy, lots of thunder, some lightning. Then the storm would end, it would be about ten to fifteen degrees cooler and we would have our typical amazing evenings. It was one of the certainties in a state/region that didn't have many.

Two years ago, we moved back here after being away for over 20 years. The pattern I was so familiar with seemed to be gone. No afternoon thunderstorm to cool things down. The cycle was broken. Until last week. Since Tuesday a week ago, we have had thunderstorms every day. The cloud quickly darkens, we hear thunder and see a little lightning. Then the rains begin. These are quick storms...it rains HARD! And then it is over. Our driveway has washed out a bit more and it is a lot cooler outside. Just like the old days. Except now, they are calling it MONSOON SEASON! I have never heard that term applied to the Rocky Mountain region before and am wondering who initiated it. "Yeah, it's monsoon season, so I'll probably have to stay in the house all week." For whatever reason, I find it quite amusing.

This season in my life is feeling like a monsoon season. It has been so long since I had any security in a job and I have spent so much of the last few years looking for work that my career seems to be job seeking. When you add in the mental issues I battle, this is the season when--just as things seem to be warming up--the thunderstorms are rushing in and washing away the drive. Heard from the rescue mission today...no job, but don't be afraid to keep watching our hiring board and apply for another job if one pops up that catches your attention. At 46, I may never get a chance at anything that looks like a "career." I'm seeing a pattern and afraid it will last until I die: work a few months, maybe even a year, at a job and then lose the job, spend months or more seeking, find another menial job, work it a few months, etc., etc., etc. Then, with no retirement to draw on, simply drop dead one day while looking for the next 3 to 15 month gig. "Yeah, it's monsoon season, so I'm probably going to be stuck on the outside looking in until the day I die." 46 feels so old, yet it seems so young to have completely lost hope.

The First Time, All Over Again

I am such a prodigious blogger. I write at least two or three times a year like clockwork. Funny how things change without changing. Last time I wrote, I was out of a job. This time, I am out of a different job! I am amazingly able to keep things unstable in our family. I hate it and I really hate myself. The more times this happens, the more clearly I see that I am a "no-hoper," who will spend the rest of life trying to stave off the wolves and battling the demons. Eventually I will lose and perhaps the pain of living will end. Or perhaps I am so far off base that my suffering will only intensify. I don't know.

To make it even brighter, both of my daughters informed me today that I am a jerk because I kid around with their significant others too much. They would prefer I just stay the heck out and leave them alone. So, I guess I will comply. Which means even more withdrawal and loneliness. Gotta love being the guy at the party that everyone wishes would have just stayed home. It is awesome to not realize it until you have alienated everyone and you have to skulk away with your tail between your legs and hide in your room for a while...maybe forever. Seriously considering applying for disability and then I can just stay home and out of everyone's way. I suck. Just glad that what I have always believed is being consistently confirmed now. Lovely.

A New Week Looks a Lot Like the Previous One

So the last time I posted, I mentioned the job interview. As it turns out, I got through to the final round of interviews on Thursday. Then I waited all day Friday, as they told me they would call me on Friday either way. Finally at 5:15, the call came....and....I didn't get the job. Now, as they had waited until the middle of happy hour to call me, I had figured out on my own that the job was not going to be falling to me. And that's okay; they have to hire the person they feel is best qualified and the best fit for their school. It was nice to be in the pool of finalists. Not sure where I came up short and sent an email thanking the assistant principal for the opportunity and asking for some advice for the next time I get an interview. Still waiting for the (probably not coming) response to that.

This is my second round of unemployment in the past three years. The first one came because my brain quit working and I ended up on disability. I can own that one. This one, however, is different. The first time I was unable to function and spent my days in anguish and despair from issues that were way beyond the unemployment. This time, I am beginning to feel anger. The first couple of weeks I was stunned and sad and walked around in a daze. But after this interview experience, the sadness turned to genuine anger. For almost twenty years I bounced around doing a job I hated until it finally consumed me. I longed to be out of it and dreamed of being a teacher. My friend Matt told me on Saturday that I had gone from a job that I hated on the best days to one I loved on the worst days. And now, it has been taken away for reasons that they assure me have nothing to do with my performance. To get to the final round of interviews and not get the job felt like being teased with a prize and then having it ripped back from my reach. And I HATE it! I assume I can find a job. What I can't assume is that it will be a teaching job, nor that I will love it like I do teaching. That leaves me feeling empty and enraged.

So, life goes on. It is not the worst life a guy could ask for. But it will never be the same. And I can't say that I am happy about it.

(Sorry this is kind of a mess. I thought I had it all planned out but once I started writing it down, things seemed to jumble themselves.)

This Is the Week that Is, Was, or Will Be

It has been about four weeks since I found out I was losing my job and about three weeks since the job actually ended. Nothing like being blindsided, but the transition has gone better than I would have expected. My principal has reminded me--and the rest of the teaching staff--that the dismissal had nothing to do with my performance, but is a result of the inane way the state funds schools. We came up 60 students short of what we needed to make budget and someone's job had to be cut. Unfortunately, it ended up being mine. However, the school has kept me fairly busy as a sub and it usually keeps me out of the house and distracted so I'm not focused on being unemployed (or underemployed, I guess).

Yesterday I had an interview at a middle school in Colorado Springs. It was a positive experience. Not sure I blew them away, or that they will call me back for the second round, but each interview is a step in the right direction. I think I would enjoy the job, as it is a similar population to the one at my old school and I love working with the kids who have some societal/cultural obstacles in their way. I should know today or tomorrow if they are bringing me back for the next step in the process. They want to hire by the end of the week and get the person working by the end of next week. I'm glad it is that quick as waiting around to hear is really overwhelming. Never got any response for the community college job, so this is my only active option. Still looking every day for something to open up. If I don't get something full-time soon, I will be applying for some positions in the community college system in Arizona. Don't really want to live there, but these days a man has to go where the jobs are.

We bought a Jeep this week, a 1992 Cherokee Laredo. Got it from a mechanic who has maintained it well. Fun to drive and four wheel drive, which is a big plus in our little community. Not much to look at, but I am way beyond caring about that at this point in my life. I have wanted a Jeep for forever...the other one I owned had a huge engine made for pulling and got about 10 miles per gallon. This one has the inline six engine and will do some better. Just love the feel of driving this kind of vehicle. Hoping it holds up well.

Well, that is the update from here. Counting down the days to Thanksgiving, anxious to spend Christmas with our family, and especially with Emilee, and doggedly seeking work again. And life goes on.

The Drought

Blogging confirms many of the poor thoughts I have about myself...especially the ones that have to do with being undisciplined and disorganized. It has been over five months since I last wrote. How does that happen? I enjoy writing, so why don't I, why can't I, write? I guess part of it could be my reason for writing. Am I writing for others to read, in the hope that they will enjoy and comment? Am I writing for profundity, that the world will be awestruck by my deep thoughts (sound of crickets chirping)? Or am I writing to help bring my soul to light and life? Perhaps if I could truly engage the my heart and soul in my writing I would write more often and more consistently.

Life is not horrible these days. I like teaching. I love the kids. I also fight the battle against anxiety on a regular basis, as I get locked up trying to plan or grade. I keep waiting for the day to come when I am exposed to the world as a complete fraud. I want to make a difference, I want to impact the part of the world I work in, I want my coworkers to like and respect me. I feel insignificant and phony. Finding peace with the demons inside me is a process I have not yet mastered. I realize I am whiny. I realize there are people in the world, students in my classroom, with real problems...the ones that aren't just self-inflicted and overinflated. Just wish I could find the escape hatch from my constant overanalysis and self-absorption. We'll see.

What is Art?

Got the chance last weekend to go to Minnesota and see my daughter in her college's production of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. It was the first musical the school has done in at least a decade and I have to say that it was a lot of fun and the cast was really good. Emilee knocked it out of the park. I can't believe how much she has grown as a singer and an actress. She manages to capture the nuances of her character in ways that many at her age and with her experience are seriously lacking. She really understands, and gets how to convey, what is happening in Olive's mind. Unfortunately, that may be because she grew up with a little too much of Olive's experience.

The musical raised a question for me, however. Does a work of art (music, literature, visual, whatever) become more sophisticated if it is more profane? That seems to be the accepted truth among those "in the know." There were two different versions of the performance of this musical--one that was family friendlier and "G" rated, the other considered "R" rated. We were supposed to see both versions, but since there were no children in the audience on the opening night, they went with the raunchier version. The second night, advertised as "R" rated, had a much bigger audience and much more buzz in the theater before it started. It was generally a much younger audience. And if you were not present and just listening, you might think there were cue cards up front telling the audience when to respond with oohs and whistles. It was louder and more raucous. Which is fine, I guess.

Here is the issue, though. This story really looks into serious issues of childhood and family relationships. It explores how the pressures we put on our children affects the ways they view themselves and the way they view the way the world views them. One "boy" suffers with attention deficit issues and is convinced by his family that he is stupid. A girl senses the pressure from her dads to win, to succeed, and the devastation of coming in third causes her to believe that she has failed and that the world will hate her for it. Another is a social misfit who has great difficulty interacting with others. One girl is an overachiever who has to come to grips with how she wants to deal with expectations. Emilee played a girl whose parents are absent and at odds. She feels alone and abandoned and believes that somehow the dysfunction of her parents' relationship is her fault. These are HUGE issues that the musical handled really poignantly and with enough humor to make it bearable. Unfortunately, when they added the raunchiness, I don't think the audience was paying any attention to the real story of the play. Something was lost. Some innuendo and balanced humor make it quirky and unpredictable. Absolute profanity (especially unrealistic profanity--they were portraying twelve year olds, who swear to prove they are "big," but don't use the language in the ways demonstrated in this musical) seems to appeal to baser instincts in the audience and causes them to miss the learning moment such a treatment can create.

George Carlin was hailed as a genius for mocking society's conventions and showing how flawed we were by using the seven dirty words you can't say on television or radio. In the intervening years, society has become coarser in its language and behavior and it is no longer mocking convention to use hardcore profanity and to shock with songs about erections. Mocking convention would be doing a fantastic story like this in ways that appeal to the common decency of humans rather than the common coarseness. That's what I think, at least. I would love to hear how others respond. And if Emilee reads this, I think you were wonderful. I just don't want you to be sucked into the idea that in order to do quality work we must do work that is profane and base. I love you Olive.

Something Old, Something New

How do I manage to go so long without writing? I watched a documentary of Anne LaMott's "Bird by Bird" the other night, and one of the things she emphasizes--as do many others--is to set aside time each day to write. I seem to set aside time each quarter! That said, here I am for today. Spring break has begun and I find myself needing to work and loathe to do much of anything. I am tired, nearly exhausted, and having a hard time getting my feeble brain to focus. I will, however, have lesson plans and serious direction for next quarter set up by the end of the week.

While I am enjoying teaching (usually), I am really feeling an escalation of the good old anxiety issues over the past few weeks. Not sure what is causing it, but it gets to me and becomes somewhat paralyzing at times. I find myself back to those fears of being exposed...that if the folks who employ me really knew what my capabilities are, they would fire me on the spot. Why does this thought haunt me in all facets of my life? Others seem confident of their abilities and knowledge; yet no matter how many people tell me that I am intelligent and capable, I see myself as an idiot who is fooling the world somehow and on the verge of being found out. I have to take a subject area test this summer sometime and find myself terrified that I will fail it miserably and immediately be out of work. I hate that I think like this, yet find it comes quite naturally and is difficult (nearly impossible) to purge from my brain.

That seems to be about it for today. Talk to you all in about a month!

Standardized Tests and Nonstandardized Students

I have been meaning to write this for a week, but it seems other things keep popping up that are more important. You know, things like...LEARNING HOW TO BE A TEACHER!! Last Tuesday (and again tomorrow) it was my job to proctor standardized tests in the computer lab. All six of my classes spent an hour on the computers doing tests which may or may not tell us much of anything about them. My role was to act as an encourager and accountability partner while they did the tests and then review their scores with each student upon completion of the exam to see if they should take another shot at it. I am thrilled to report that my students did exceedingly well on the tests! Tomorrow, they have to take the reading section. I am sure they will be overjoyed.

The idea of sixty students taking the same test with the same teacher forced me to consider my kids as a group and also as individuals. Some sat down and knocked out the test with no complaint or delay. Others were a bit more challenging. One kept falling asleep. I woke him up three or four times during the hour and prodded him to stay with it at other times. Of course, upon completion, I discovered that he had done quite well on the test. It figures! One girl got an "average" score and wasn't happy with it. She took it again and did twelve points better. Her face lit up when we reviewed things together after her second attempt.

The moral of the story? I am required to teach in ways that give us the best chance of showing improvement on standardized tests. I love to teach because each student is an individual with a life both in and outside our classroom and our building. In one short month, I have become deeply attached to the individuals who grace my classes and the larger mosaic they are creating. It only took forty-five years for me to be allowed to do that thing for which I was created. As I reviewed repeatedly in our media literacy unit: ba da da da da...I'M LOVIN' IT!!

The Teaching Gig

Two months have passed and much of life has changed. In November, I was unemployed and muddling along. Since the last post, I have been hired twice and am working in my dream job. That's right, I am officially teaching. I went to grad school with the hope of teaching in a college setting and thought that is where I would end up. The more involved in the reconciliation conversation I became, the more obvious it was to me that I needed to teach in a school that would allow me to be involved in touching lives that might otherwise be forgotten. And now that opportunity has been afforded me.

I am entering my third week teaching Language Arts at the New America School's Denver campus. Our campus is considered "high-risk" and approximately 65 percent of our students have dropped out of other schools. What I have found is a group of students who have a hard time dealing with life in the structures of "normal" American school systems but are smart and engaging when given the opportunity. Unfortunately, many of these students will likely fall through the cracks as they have involved themselves in behaviors and lifestyles that will make success difficult: gangs, parenthood, drugs and alcohol, etc.

While I love what I am doing, pretty much every minute that I am not with students is spent wondering if I am going to be exposed as a fraud...that what I have always wanted to do will prove to be more than I am capable of doing. There is so much that I don't know and trying to learn to teach on the fly is definitely a challenge. I genuinely hope this works out as I love it more than anything I have ever done. Still, there are no guarantees. The road ahead is beautiful, yet treacherous. It could be an amazing journey or a horrifying crash! Too late to turn back though; I'm on my way!

Friday the 13th

Seems appropriate that I sit here to write this post on Friday the 13th, as that seems to be the day that best represents me. Yet another rejection letter from a potential employer arrived today. "We had numerous qualified candidates apply for the position. You are not one of them. Good luck at Sam's Club!" When will I ever learn to stop getting my hopes up?

I went back to school, spent a lot of money, time and effort to improve myself and get an advanced degree. Now, after having gotten the degree, I find myself further behind than I was before. No job and more debt. Lovely. What is my problem? I will be 45 in a couple of weeks and am going to start a part-time, entry-level job with no future. I fried my brain trying to be a pastor and can not return to that field, no matter what. Yet, it seems to be the only kind of work for which I am considered qualified.

I face the specter of spending the rest of my life in menial, barely-better-than-minimum-wage jobs and watching my wife work herself to death to support us. How do I face her...not just now, but twenty years from now? How can I handle knowing my kids will have to fend for themselves because their dad just isn't capable of earning a living? My oldest is already in over her head because I am not able to help her get through college, which every parent is supposed to do and supposed to be capable of doing.

My parents and my wife tell me that I am not what I see myself as. How can they not see the truth after all these years? Their investment in me seems to blind them to the reality of the situation. I offer nothing of value to this world. I hate myself and the mess I am making of the lives of those about whom I care deeply. I am so sorry to have dragged my family into this mess. I wish they could get a mulligan.

A Break in the Clouds

Well, despite all my anxiety and depression, it has been a pretty good week. Last Tuesday I received a letter of eligibility to begin looking for teaching jobs in Colorado schools. While there aren't exactly a ton of openings in October, I have until January to find a job and gain entry into the Teacher in Residence Program. Then we had our church retreat and it was a really good time. At the end of the retreat, Cole and I were invited to go to the Broncos/Patriots game with a new friend from our church. We had such a great time and I will always cherish the opportunity to go to my first pro football game with my son. The look on his face throughout the game was priceless. Then today I had a meeting/interview and was added to the substitute teacher at a local charter school. So I am getting into the process and figuring out how to go for the jobs that are available. And that is a really good first step. I have miles to go before I am healthy and back on my feet but at least I am making some progress.

Halfway Through and Already Finished

For most of my life my parents, my teachers, my friends, my wife have been telling me I have a lot to offer, that I bring many skills to the game, that I am filled with potential. I am now 44 and am resigned to the fact that they are all wrong. I am halfway through a race in which I have no chance at winning. Well, probably more than halfway as I don't see any way that I live to 88, but you get my meaning. There is no way I will ever make a living, provide for my family, or make a lasting and positive impact on anyone or anything. I am, to borrow a phrase from my brother-in-law, a waste of skin.

I have applied for numerous jobs in the past few months. Not only do I not get the jobs, nor the interviews, I don't even get the letter, the call or the email telling me that I didn't get the job. I have tried getting hired doing jobs that require no education like working in a bookstore or opening the door and admitting people at the YMCA and still get no response. I guess that is common in today's economy so if that were the only problem, I might be able to handle it. But because I feel the need to do something, to get out of the house and be productive somehow, I put out some feelers for doing volunteer work...and was REJECTED! Yes, that is correct folks: I am not even qualified to volunteer.

So I am middle aged, unskilled and undesirable. I am a burden on my wife, my kids, my parents, the friends I have left and there is nothing to indicate that it is ever going to get better.

Paging Dr. House

SPOILER ALERT!!

I watched the two-hour season premiere of House last night, in which our anti-hero was locked up in an asylum trying to get himself together. It was an episode that hit really close to home. Not so much while he was institutionalized, as House did everything he could to sabotage himself and others, but more when he was leaving. There is a moment of hesitation when the camera shot is close-up on House's face. There is fear and uncertainty there. That is what hit me. Dealing with the first obvious symptoms of mental health issues--for me it was the first anxiety attack--is terrifying. Going through a mental disorder like depression and general anxiety is overwhelming and lonely. However, the prospect of being declared "well" and being sent back into the world to try to work and function is as scary as hell itself. Failure to handle one's problems at home alone is embarrassing enough, but what happens if the meltdowns occur again while working? What if I can't make it in the real world and end up a mental and emotional invalid, burdening my wife, my kids and our families until the day I die? What if there really is no "well," and this is who I am. Will the pressures of life reveal that more vividly when I try to go back to "normal"?

I find myself torn between my desire to overcome my fears and face down my demons and the enticing desire to hide in my house, to find some sort of work that isolates me and allows me to work from the computer in my recliner. Like House, I peer out at the future and its possibilities and I have a glimmer of hope wrapped up in a cloud of anxiety. What's next? I only wish I knew.

Done and Doing

I'm about ten days out from having successfully defended my Master's thesis. I honestly did not think it would ever happen as I was pretty sure if I ever finished the text there was no way they would ever approve it. But I passed, and it was really a lot of fun. The defense with my committee was encouraging and invigorating--I really enjoyed the meeting. Go figure.

So, now I'm home in Colorado (wow, that never gets old!) and trying to discern the next step in the journey of the rest of my life. Here is what I know: I haven't got a bloody clue!!!! I really want to teach, but am unsure as to the best path toward teaching. College? That would be fantastic but at the moment seems unrealistic since there aren't a lot of communication courses offered in the area community colleges. High school? I could live with that but will have to do some extra steps to get there and am not sure how long that will take. Non-profit? I have applied to some and am supposedly still a candidate for one position but it doesn't energize me like teaching does. I just don't feel any closer to an answer than I was a year ago or two years ago. And the beat goes on.

On the church front, we have settled--at least for a season--at Mountain Community Mennonite Church in Palmer Lake. Way outside my realm of experience but it really meshes with where I am internally at this point in my life. I can be present with the group without serious chest pain and anxiety attacks which is a huge bonus. The kids enjoy it and Carol is working to figure out her feelings about it. My friend Art, back in Minnesota, wanted me to convert the church where I was pastor to a "peace church," and I let him know that was not possible. Now, however, I am a part of a peace church that is focused like a laser beam on reconciliation.

I think the most difficult thing in life right now (outside of having no money and no prospects) is the realization that people see me as broken or that they don't understand why I can't just "snap out of it" and get on with life: Finish the thesis! Get a job! Act like an adult! Man up! And to them I say, "I wish it was that easy." I don't understand why I get paralyzed and afraid. I don't know how to get beyond the anxiety and move forward with my life. I really wish I did. Still, there is a level of shame when I have to face those to whom I am intricately connected and know that they think I am dogging it and that I could do better if I would just try. Believe me, I'm trying. Sometimes the trying just about kills me. Maybe a time is coming when it gets better--in fact, right now may be better than a while back was--but I can't predict it and I'm not sure I can control it. Sorry.

So I continue to plod forward with the occasional--or maybe regular--detour. I'm terrified but holding onto a glimmer of hope that better times are ahead. It is the best I have to offer right now.

Unpacking and Repacking

I pretty much took the summer off from the old blog. I felt guilty about writing here when it was such a struggle to write on my thesis. Now the writing part of the thesis is done and I am just editing while I wait to defend. So I thought I would put something up here today to get back in the habit.

My daughter Aimee is a wonder. She is encouraging and caring. She never lacks for friends, as people just love to be around her. I am amazed at the beautiful person she is. One little quirk she has is that when she needs to clean her room, she can't just straighten things up. She has to take everything out and pile it in the middle of the floor and kind of reassemble the whole thing. I think I am long overdue to learn a lesson from her.

My life is a lot like Aimee's room. Lots of clutter as I collect junk and can't seem to let things go. When I really need something, I dig around inside and usually can't find it. So, I'm trying to deal with the stresses of life, be they large or small, and I just simply can't find the resources. In fact, I can't even seem to find the mental or emotional floor, there is so much clutter.

I think it is time for me to take everything out and start over, reassembling the whole room. Not only do I not know how to deal with the stresses of life, I can't even figure out who I am or what I stand for. I'm 44 years old, grew up in a Christian home, have been a pastor, and quite frankly, I'm not even sure what I believe about God these days. A while back, Greg Boyd talked to me about how he came to a point where he had to take a season and sort out everything he had always believed about God and decide what to keep and what to discard until he got to the essential core. It was at that point that he found some level of liberation. I think I have come to that place in my life.

For the past couple of years, through two therapists and a psychiatrist who have pushed me to do hard business with God, I have managed to keep the issue pushed below the surface but it simply cannot continue this way. I have to go home and find a way to figure out who God is and where I stand before him. It won't wait and I won't get better until it happens.

Saying Goodbye to a Home that Wasn't Supposed to Be Home

It's Saturday morning and I am sitting in my favorite Caribou, professing to do some work but really just trying to center my mind. It has been a full week, and this is my last Saturday as a resident of Minnesota. I am looking forward to the going home element of this move to Colorado, but have to admit that the leaving is much more difficult than I expected. There have been numerous opportunities to reinforce this strange separation anxiety this week.

First, the kids. Cole and Aimee are struggling so much with leaving the friends they have made here. Even now, Cole and Logan are running around St. Anthony somewhere (they said they were going to Walgreen's) and treasuring this last week together before we move. They are one day apart in age and have been like brothers since we first moved to Minnesota four years ago. As much as two 11 year old boys can, they genuinely love each other. You don't get those friends every day nor in every locale.

Aimee is away at her last youth retreat/activity with her Echo group from Woodland Hills Church. She makes friends easily, but I don't think she has ever had a group of friends who feed her soul like the ones she made this year at WHC. I don't know how much she will miss her small group and youth leaders (I think a lot) but I know I am having difficulty with pulling her away from this. She also has a great group of friends at school here, and one of those friends is having serious struggles with Aimee's departure. So much so that her mom is willing to help pay for a plane ticket to bring Aimee back for a week later this summer. I know Aimee and I have no doubts that she will have a whole crew of friends pretty quickly after school starts this Fall, but her story illustrates to me how many tentacles these decisions we make as parents end up having. And while I really hope to spend the rest of my life in Colorado, the timing is not as ideal as it seemed eight weeks ago.

Emilee, on the other hand, will stay and make her way in life in Minnesota. While this is probably the right thing for her, the idea of leaving her behind is difficult for us and for her. She is the girl who was going to be independent, out on her own, out of our house pretty much from the time she was about 12 years old. Now that it is reality though, it is a lot tougher than expected. My girl, the one who is wired so much like me that it is almost frightening, will no longer be within earshot. She has her own place, her own job, her own friends, her own path, her own life. I will miss her like I would miss my heart if it were removed. I am sure she has made a good decision and I support her and am proud of her. Still does not make it easy to leave. I know you read this from time to time Em, and I don't want you to feel sad or guilty when you do. I want you to know that my heart aches, but it is the ache of every father whose children have to grow up and go their own way. It is the right thing, but it is not an easy thing.

As for me, this place and this season of life have kind of grown on me. I love the Twin Cities. What other metro area has the kind of natural beauty within the city limits that Minneapolis and Saint Paul do? Lakes, trees, a mildly rolling terrain: you don't have to go away to live in wonder. Add to that an amazing diversity of people from Asia, Africa, and yes, even Europe, and it is quite simply an incredible place to live. Part of the beauty of the Twin Cities chapter of my life has been Woodland Hills Church. I love the people, I love the openness to new and different, I love the diversity, I love being a part of the Woodland Hills family. I will miss it and not entirely sure I can ever find a place like it, which makes it really tough to leave.

I will miss people. My old friends (Russ, Ken) and my once-in-a-while friends (Greg, Efrem, Marque), my cohort friends (Jenny, Chibs, Andrea, Erin, Deb) and my hang out when we can friends (Jeremy, Derek, Tahna). I will miss Jason and Lisa and those three beautiful kids. I would love to be closer to watch Ana grow up and become president of this or some other country (it is inevitable, I think...even if we have to change the Constitution). I will desperately miss the two friends who have walked with me through this rough stretch of life, Brent and Todd. Brent, if you could know how much your calls and encouragement saved my life when this fight with depression and anxiety began, you might be surprised to know that you are a superhero. And Todd, it seems like we were just getting started. I love your knowledge and your incredibly twisted sense of humor. I love your family and the times we have spent together. I love that we can both be about 13 years old together for significant stretches of time and it is perfectly cool. I am so happy for your new job adventure. I just wish it were in Colorado.

I will deeply miss Leta, my advisor and much more. She has loved on me through the frustration of not being able to write. She hasn't yet killed me, but she might before we are done! And I will miss Phil. My friend, you have become the human face of a loving heavenly Father to me. I don't know if I can fully explain it, so I will just let it stand alone. You are grace personified. Not perfection or deification, just good, broken grace. Thanks for walking the journey with me.

The capper to all this reminiscing is the picture that remains from our block. Our neighbors--next door and across the street--are wonderful Tibetan people. On Thursday night, before Carol was leaving on Friday, about 10:30 the doorbell rang. It was the younger woman and her mother dropping in to say goodbye to Carol. About twenty minutes later, the bell rang again. It was the grandmother--the one who doesn't speak English but has been one of the kindest and friendliest neighbors you could ever hope to have--and "big Tenzen" (a lot of Tenzens, this is the one who graduated 8th grade with Aimee last week) coming over to say goodbye to my wife. This little lady with the warm smile brought a scarf/shawl over and draped it around Carol's neck and over her shoulders and through her grandson told us it was a Tibetan tradition that means "good luck." She has one like it and will think of Carol when she wears it. It was a gift of love and affection, one that came with and produced tears. It is so tough to leave these wonderful neighbors. The grandmother was holding Carol's hand the other day and saying "sorry" over and over, letting us know that she was sad we were leaving. Incredible. Then she and Tenzen stood in the front yard Friday morning, waving until we disappeared down the street on our way to the airport. More tears. In fact, kind of like the tears that keep coming to my eyes as I write this. I love these dear friends and will miss them more than they can possibly know.

This is long, too long for blogging, but it needed to be written. Hope you can indulge me a little as this parting is very sweet sorrow. Next Saturday morning, I will be headed from Holly to Colorado Springs to show Emilee and Jared the sights before taking them to Denver and the airport so they can get home for Father's Day (the first time that getting home doesn't mean returning to me). It will be good, eventually. It will not be easy.

Thanks God for Minnesota. I will miss this place.

Feeling Cantankerous

I have been getting requests on Facebook to join the group, "Tell Obama We're Still a Christian Nation." So, of course, to get people really annoyed, I made my status something snarky like "Joe wonders what makes a nation Christian?" Which led to some responses, some sincere and others equally snarky. I especially like the snarky ones.

Seriously though, when was this or any other nation genuinely Christian? As I stated on Facebook, nation building is about gaining power over people in this world. Living the Kingdom of God, on the other hand, is about submitting ourselves to others in the name of Jesus, living a life of grace and peace and laying down our rights in order to demonstrate the genuine love of God in daily living. Tell me then, what nation does that? What nation has ever done that? Really?

Was it the marauding armies of "Christians" who wantonly slaughtered Muslims behind the banner of the cross...you know, the cross where Jesus willingly sacrificed himself? Was it the European settlers who took advantage of their superior fire power to deceive and destroy the inhabitants they found when they landed on this continent? Was it the "founding fathers" who wrote about freedom and liberty while enslaving countless Africans for their own economic benefit, deeming them (by law) as less than fully human, enforcing breeding and separation in order to make sure those "family values" we speak so highly of were never allowed to take root among the black slaves they claimed to own? Was it the preachers in this country who justified slavery, segregation, war and brute force when it was expedient for their own success and security? Is it the United States where millions of innocent unborn are slaughtered in the womb, many for nothing more than the sake of convenience? Or is it the other side of the argument where those who "speak for life" end up murdering to make their point? Is it the churched ones who reacted to the September 11th brutality by threatening and pouring venom on anyone who so much as looked like a Muslim? The churches who sent their young men and women out to "kill some Arabs?" Is it in the evangelical lifestyle of excess and affluence, taking mission trips to other parts of the world while walking blindly past the homeless guy on the corner? Is it in the multimillion dollar church edifices that house a weekly pep rally and do little to positively touch the lives of those who live in their shadows?

(One quick note: I am not able to answer the really tough questions about war and that is not the purpose of this post. Nations do war. The problem that I see is Christians who get excited about killing anyone, including an enemy. This does not seem to be the example of the Jesus after whom we claim to be named.)

I plead guilty to living the lie for too many years. Americanism is not "Christian," any more than is allegiance to any other nation, political structure or power. But I'm trying to unlearn the things that kept me from seeing the true Jesus. You know the one: the guy who lived a life of healing and service, who was a political separatist while working to bring life and hope to those who were victims of the political structures of nations and of religion. So forgive me if I don't get too riled up over President Obama, pastor gold watch, or any of the others who seek power here. I am trying to commit myself to powerlessness as humanity sees it so I can live a life pleasing to the God who provides legitimate power.

And whether I like the president's politics or the doctor's ethics, I pledge to continue practicing seeing the unsurpassable worth of each person I encounter in this world.

Thanks!

It's funny, I begged people to read my blog the other day because I wanted to get some dialogue about the whole Christian pop culture thing (the DJ urging prayer for American Idol winner which is now even crazier with Jon and Kate). It was one of the few posts in which I didn't spend much, if any, time on my anxiety and depression issues. That said, there were a number of responses about my "issues," and I want to say thanks to those who took time and were concerned enough to offer me some insight and some encouragement. I also want to update a bit.

I think the reason the post was not about my internal journey is that I seem to be doing better than I have in a long time. To the person who asked about Cognitive Behavior Therapy, that seems to be the catalyst for some real help. I have been seeing a therapist who specializes in this method/treatment and he has helped me face down some of the fears that were keeping me in turmoil. I have not had an anxiety attack in a couple of months (give or take) and have been doing well enough that the psychiatrist agreed to step me off the depression meds, which she believes weren't helping me much anyway. I know it is early and that this taking thoughts captive thing is a process that has to continue for a much longer time, but I am amazed at how much better things are going. Outward circumstances are still crazy: my grandma's health is still uncertain, we have to travel again this weekend, my thesis is still trying to be written, our oldest is moving out Monday, next week is the final week of school for the other two kids, Carol leaves for Colorado on the 12th, and we load up and head out on the 18th. Still no jobs, although Carol may be interviewing with a school in Colorado Springs in the next few days. So it isn't that life has miraculously gotten less crazy for us. But the way I do life is significantly changing.

So, again, thanks to those of you who took time to respond. I appreciate your concerns and your prayers. I hope someday to pay it forward to another person who has ended up at a similar place in their journey.

Grace and peace to you all.

Catching Up

It has been awhile since the last post. Life has been crazy. First I got really sick with bronchitis, the cough from which is still hanging on. In the middle of that, my grandma in Missouri fell and broke her hip and was not doing so well. This led to a whirlwind trip to Missouri and back this week. In the midst of all that, I have been trying to do some writing with very mixed results as well as finishing the Basic Communication course I was working in and trying to find work for next school year...so far an unrealized dream. All that to say that writing on a blog hasn't been a high priority lately.

First, the annoyance. While I was in Missouri I had some Christian radio station on in my car. I could not believe it when the woman who was hosting in the morning spent about five minutes explaining to everyone listening that they should remember to pray daily for the guy who won American Idol earlier in the week, that he would be under a great deal of pressure in the year ahead! GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Laying aside the fact that I don't get why people are so into shows like this, what pressure is there in having your fifteen minutes of fame in the world of pop culture? This is insane! Pressure is losing your home. Pressure is facing torture and genocide. Pressure is fighting cancer or some other life-altering disease. Pressure is your child missing or your wife leaving. When someone goes on a stupid TV show and gets a recording contract from it, this is not pressure. So, go ahead and pray for this pop culture creation if you want, I'll hold my prayers for victims in Darfur, people who are homeless because of the economic crash and my friend who lost his wife to cancer a few weeks ago. Come on people, grow a brain!

Second, the realities of moving are setting in. Found myself in tears numerous times today as I shared in the worship encounter that is Woodland Hills Church. Quick tangent...WHC is going to open its doors in August for use as a homeless shelter. What megachurch is doing stuff like that? Another, among the many, reason I love this place. Leaving our church behind is among the most difficult parts of moving. Where else can I see a woman with Downs Syndrome dancing and raising her hands while we sing the Kirk Franklin song, "Imagine Me," on a typical Sunday morning? Woodland Hills has transformed church for me in this past year. It is hard to think of being 1000 miles away. Add to that the sorrow of saying goodbye to our daughter and parting with friends like Todd and Dawni and it is with a serious mix of emotions that we leave.

Finally, the thesis is coming along slowly. I am doing some analysis that I hope will be acceptable and demonstrate some level of intellectual credibility. Pray for me. I am pressing forward and will finish this. Or it will finish me. Either way, it will be done!

Congrats to Jenny, a friend from grad school, on making a huge life transition and moving to the Dominican Republic to teach this summer! I am so proud of you Jenny. I pray it is the continuance of the revolution that has become your life.

Backsliding and Back on the Horse

Sorry for that last post. Things piled up and I reverted to the old way of dealing with them. I really want to be committed to a new way of thinking and responding. So if you read the (now deleted) entry, I apologize. Now let's see how today goes!