for the love

I magine that you are standing in front of a door. And you know that what is behind this door will completely fulfill your life. It will bring into fruition every dream you have for yourself. It will bring you what you’ve always hoped and wished for. So you go to push open this door, and much to your frustration you find that it won’t budge. You keep pushing, adding more and more pressure until finally the weight of your body is leaned against this door. It still does not open. You step back and get a running start, thinking surely you can force this door open. When that does not work, you pray that God will open this door for you. After all, you know that God wants all good things for you, so surely He would want you have what is on the other side of this door! Unfortunately, even prayer does not open this door. Confused by the difficulty of this seemingly simple task, and deeply hurt by the perceived rejection of your Creator, you finally give up. In the moment you take the pressure

Last night I did something I never do. I went a show at Douglas Corner Cafe featuring local singer/songwriters. My friend Susan seriously makes a hobby lifestyle out of going to these shows. You can find her at any random dive/live music venue on any random night of the week, supporting the lesser-known folk in their dream of making it big in the music industry. Not only does she listen to the music, she meets the artists AND becomes FRIENDS with them. She's so cool. *sigh* Anyways, she was telling me earlier this week that a mutual friend of ours was singing back-up for a local singer/songwriter opening for another singer/songwriter at Douglas Corner this Thursday night. I'd been wanting to see her perform for a while, so I figured this was my chance. As much as I enjoyed the opening act...it was a little long. Tell me, since I don't go to these things that much...is it OK to perform 14 songs when the main event is only doing 10? hmmm....just a harmless question. So o

I have had some complaints from the greater populace regarding my blog's ban on anonymous commenting. The reason I set it up this way was in attempt to defy the laws of spamming. I don't get a lot of spam on my blog, and I'd like to keep it that way. But in an effort to better serve my readership, I am, at this time, lifting the ban and accepting 'anonymous' comments. If you are commenting without a Blogger account, please tag your comment with at least your first name, or some other identifying nom de plum. Otherwise, I will assume you are a stalker and may possibly delete you from the face of the earth your comment. Don't test me. Disclaimer: If at any time the lifting of this ban results in increased spam, we'll resume to 'account-holders' only and all y'all non-account holders wishing to comment will just have to contact me some other way. Anonymously Yours, For The Love Managment

My roommate and I have a saying. Whenever we're watching t.v. and something goes wrong with the program - like the sound goes out, or the show gets cut-off and another random shows begins mid-story (believe me, it's happened - enough times that we have a saying for it), we'll look at each other and say, "guess the network left the intern in charge." So earlier this morning I got one of those annoying 'funny forwards', only this time, it was funny. The premise of the email was mapping directions from New York to Paris. All I'm gonna say next is Google has some mighty fine interns . Scroll down to direction #23, if you will.

It scares me sometimes how quickly time goes by. I guess hitting 30 will do that to you. I can only imagine how it's gonna hit at 40...at 70... "The week ends the week begins" ( Dave Matthews ) Sometimes in my mind I put the day in fast-forward and I can see myself lying in bed, already reflecting on things that haven't happened yet . On Sunday nights I tend to look ahead to the week that lies before me and I can see a fairly accurate image. I will go to work. I will go to church. I will excersize at the Y. I will eat, I will sleep. I will do certain things each evening depending on the day of the week. I will see the same people, do the same job, drive the same roads, and do the same things I've done every week for who knows how long. This is the unchanging framework of routine which surrounds me. But I am a blur of motion. The only things I can't foresee are those little surprises that seem to make the dull constancies worth it. Like getting an email from a

Listen to this: All the chistles I've dulled carving idols of stone That have crumbled like sand 'neath the waves. I've recklessly built all my dreams in the sand just to watch, them all wash away. Through another day, another trial, another chance to reconcile To One who sees past all I see. And reaching out my weary hand I pray that you'd understand You're the only one who's faithful to me. All the pennies I've wasted in my wishing well I have thrown like stones to the sea. I have cast my lots, dropped my guard, searched aimlessly for a faith To be faithful to me. Through another day, another trial, another chance to reconcile To one who sees past all I see. And reaching out my weary hand I pray that you'd understand You're the only one who's faithful to me. You're the only one who's faithful to me.

Kurt Vonnegut November 11, 1922 - April 11, 2007 I started reading Vonnegut when I was in college in '97. Like many other readers, it was his most widely acclaimed Slaughterhouse-Five that introduced me to him. Then it was Breakfast of Champions that hooked me. In this author, I experienced a style of writing that to me was endearing. It wasn't flowery or pretty. It was plain and truthful. It was irreverent at times, but honest to his heart. Best of all, it was funny. I just noticed I am using past tense here - not because he is gone, but more because I'm reliving those first days of my Vonnegut-discovery. I am tempted to say I'll miss him, but I didn't know him personally. What I know of him I read in his books, which are still with me and available to be read and reread. I am sad to realize, however, that there will be no more new releases. No more original chicken-scratch illustrations. But, "so it goes," he would have said. So it goes. Dear Mr. Vo

Last Sunday my roommate Holly and I brunched at Sophie's Bistro on Nolensville Road. The service was...surprising. As I ordered my 3-egg omelet with 5-year cheese, spinach, and bacon, the waitress gazed intently into my eyes, nodding her head, drinking in every word of my order, her doe-eyes silently communicating concern and approval simultaneously. I get nervous when this phenomenon occurs. My roommate ordered a similar dish - the 3-egg omelet as well, only with 3 other choices inside, specifically I do not remember. I apparently was not the only one. As the waitress whisked herself away to put in our order, I immediately looked at Holly, held my left hand out, palm up, and began to imitate the motion of writing with my right hand, as if to silently say, "write it down lady!" She nodded in agreement, then excused herself to the restroom. No more than 15 seconds after Holly left the table, the following conversation took place between me and our waitress, whom we will re

This morning, as I was getting ready for worship, I had my iTunes on shuffle listening to music, and Sarah McLachlan's The Answer came on. I was about to hit 'next' because I was in the mood for spirituals, and then it hit me - what this song has always made me think of. I don't know who Sarah wrote this song for, or what it means to her, but I'm pretty sure she did not write it from the perspective of Jesus Christ. For some strange reason, this song has always created a scene in my head that comes from John 19:38. It begins right after Jesus has died. "Later, Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for the body of Jesus. Now Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because he feared the Jews. With Pilate's permission, he came and took the body away. He was accompanied by Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night. Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds. Taking Jesus' body, the two of them wrapped it, wi

When I was little, my bedroom was a small village of stuffed animals. I loved them, and I believed that each one was real and that they all came to life when I wasn't around. Even before hearing The Velveteen Rabbit, and MUCH before Toy Story was ever a glimmer in Disney's eye, this was my childhood belief. One animal in particular was, and is still, my favorite - the leader of the pack, the chief of the tribe. He was small in stature, but what he lacked in size he made up for in kindness, friendship, and wisdom. All the other animals looked up to him (well...down, but you know - figuratively up) because they knew that he was my most admired animal. And there was no jealousy because...well because they are stuffed animals and this is MY story and MY childhood, so there was no jealousy amongst them. Only harmony. :) Sam was given to me in 1984 during the summer Olympics. In the moment we were introduced we became instant friends. Inseparable, genuine BFF. He went everywhere with

Special weather statement: COLD WEATHER EXPECTED THIS EASTER WEEKEND......EASTER FASHION LIKELY TO INCLUDE FUR COATS... Some things are just awesome to me.

My friend Brian does 'Friday Foto' on his blog and I've always thought that was such a great idea. Now that I've got my super-sweet Canon 30D , I want to try my own version. Hope you don't mind Nicklaus. I'm taking today off work!! Happy Good Friday to all.

Last night, this dude tried to move into my apartment. He did not have rent, so I had to put the smack down. Literally.

My nephew does Downward Dog on command. Good nephew. Good. Peek-a-boo! This one I call 'Potted Plant', but he still thinks he's doing Downward Dog. Kids are cute.