Just So You Know - New Baby's Guide To Life Courtesy Of A Sarcastic Uncle (Written June 2009)

Dear Little Baby,

I suppose I should start with an introduction.

I’m your Uncle Nick.

Wow. That feels really weird to say. Right up there with the first time I ever offered someone my business card. Actually, even weirder than that! I mean, I’m your uncle.

I’m your uncle.

I’m your uncle!

It really is a trip, little baby. In fact I’ve been feeling like I live on an alternate plane of reality ever since yesterday when I first found out about you. None of us really even knew if you coming into existence was even a possibility. For one thing, your Mom had been told by a doctor that she might not ever even have children!

But now that we know you’re around it’s changed everything! So much for the opinion of professionals…

You have most definitely made an enormous difference in the quality of our everyday lives! I’ve been walking around in what I can only describe as a ecstatic stupor for the last 24 hours.

It was yesterday morning that your Dad called me to tell me that in about seven months you were scheduled to come into this world and make him a father… make our parents grandparents! ….make me an uncle!

“I hope that we have a good relationship, me and this kid.” I said on my cell phone to my old roommate David as I strolled the aisles of the SuperWalmart waiting for the TLE to get done changing the oil in my car. “I mean, I hope it’s more like the relationship between Uncle Jesse and Michelle then between Uncle Joey and Michelle.”

“Are you actually modeling your hopes for the future off of relationships between people on ‘Full House’, Nick? Are you really doing that right now? Really?” David asked as I threw an economy size bottle of apple juice into my cart.

“Absolutely. Michelle never respected Joey. He was this weird guy who was always talking in funny voices, putting on puppet shows, making dumb jokes. Michelle was annoyed with Uncle Joey. Uncle Jesse she loved. And who wouldn’t?” I postulated as I scanned the shelves before me for the Special K with Red Berries I’d seen advertised on sale in the weekly circular. “I mean if John Stamos was my uncle you couldn’t pay me to miss a family reunion.”

David laughed. “Your uncle, as I recall from your past descriptions, is no John Stamos.”

That’s for damn sure. I thought, switching out my selection of Special K for a box of Cocoa Puffs.

“What makes you so sure that this kid is going to be a girl, anyway?” David asked.

I paused. “I didn’t say I thought it was going to be a girl.” I said, trying to recall the previous fragments of our conversation.

“Not outright.. But it’s telling that you compared the baby to Michelle from ‘Full House’ as opposed to Jake from ‘Two & A Half Men’.”

“That doesn’t mean anything…” I said, shrugging it off and putting the pink pacifier I’d been looking at back on it’s clipstrip. “That was just the first thing that came to mind. I don’t care what it is as long as it’s happy and healthy.”

“Well, right now,” David replied, “happiness is pretty easy to achieve. Whereas you and I struggle to find reasons to be happy everyday this kid is jubilant at being promoted from zygote to fetus.”

I laughed. “Happy Fetus. Sounds like it could be a movie about Penguin Ob-Gyn’s.” I laughed again. “How scary would that be, a penguin waddling toward you with a pair of forceps?”

“Ok, Nick.” David said, trying hard not to let his laughter betray his usually serious demeanor, “On that note, I’ve got to get back to work.”

The whole conversation, little baby, reminded me of when your Dad and I worked at Pizza Hut together for a summer. It was the summer, as I recall, that the Hut launched their Sicilian Lasagna Bread Pizza. That particular pizza was topped with little kidney bean shaped pieces of mushy, frozen ricotta cheese.

Your Dad, Neal, and I used to get through our shifts by being as goofy as we possibly could and I remember in particular marveling with him once that the little peanut shaped pieces of cheese were comparable in shape and size to a human fetus I’d seen in one of my college text books. For the rest of the summer anytime either of us were assigned to freezer duty we’d remind the other not to forget to set out the ‘cheese fetuses’ to thaw.

And that’s the kind of warped sense of humor you should get used to as fast as possible, little baby. Because it gets employed a LOT. Your Dad is basically the Christian evangelical version of Jim Carey. No one will ever make you laugh like he will. You’re going to grow up smiling - a LOT - and he’s to thank for that.

I’ll be to thank for spoiling you beyond what is reasonable.

Right now, as we speak, I’m prepping to take an exam that will certify me as a registered sleep technician. That’s right, your uncle is pursuing a career in the medical field… and since I’m likely to remain single for a good long while and because I myself live a very minimalist lifestyle in a one bedroom apartment with the cheapest rent anyone’s ever heard of I intend to spend mass amounts of money on you.

You will go to Disneyworld a ridiculous amount of times throughout your life and will likely get a PowerWheels upgrade every Christmas. Puppies, ponies, your college tuition… start making a list, kid, cuz, seriously, as happy as I’ve been since I found out about you I don’t think there’s a thing I could deny you.

Just get here safe and sound and we’ll have a nice long chat when you arrive… as quick as I can I’m going to be up at that hospital eager to meet you and hold you for the first time. There’s a lot we have to go over, after all. Probably more than what you’re going to be able to digest right away…

And that’s why I’m thinking it all through in advance, little baby… that’s why I’m putting pen to paper and trying to make sure that I invest some real time in passing on to you what little I have had a chance to observe and learn about life.

I doubt I’ll ever have a child of my own.

It’s just that fatherhood isn’t really compatible with the life I lead… and I’m not just talking about the “gay” thing. Don’t get me wrong, if I had to I’d make any sacrifice necessary and ammend my lifestyle to accommodate a child should God drop one in my lap one day… but for now I’m career oriented… passionate about social causes… and after doing a survey of my apartment last night I realized that the only place I was able to find that could accommodate an infant was the bread box. A baby deserves better than that.

But I promise you, I’ll be a kick ass uncle.

I’ll rival Uncle Jesse like you wouldn’t believe.

You and I are going to be tight - wait and see…

And, granted, while it might be years before your parents and Grandma and Grandpa let you anywhere close to these essays ( I do tend to use a little more adult language than is appropriate for the Sesame Street crowd ), I promise you right now I’m going to tell you the truth in all of them. I’m never going to lie to you about anything… ever! My views on things are my own and my love isn’t conditional on you agreeing with them.

You, just like all people, little baby, deserve the truth.

Without truth life is a constant disappointment. Some people think that the opposite is true… that if you withold the painful details that a smile is easier to maintain. But in your life, tiny one, I hope you see the wisdom in the philosophy that the truth isn’t intended to do us harm but, rather, to set us free.

And I guess that’s the main point I want to make before making any others.

You can trust me to be your friend… and to tell you the truth always… in addition to being your uncle.

And for now, the honest truth is this: I am so excited for you to arrive!

Just so you know...

Cherish Every Glimmer (Originally Authored May 2009)

 My Christian walk has taken on a very untraditional appearance these days.

God's alone with me in my apartment.

We watch movies together in the middle of the night in between study breaks.

Sometimes I think it might not be Him I'm keeping company with anymore... that when you live in a world where everyone else fellowships with God behind closed sanctuary doors that it must be some other entity next to you on your loveseat in your living room in the middle of the night as you channel surf.

But I know as well as anyone that God finds us in our solitary places.

He's just as likely to send a raven to the river to feed you as He is to curl up next to you at three a.m. while you pop in your most recently received NetFlix selection.

He's always been here with me & I know He never intends to leave.

I said going into this year that I expected it to be a year of change & growth... rebounding from a lot of hurt that occurred in the year that preceded it. ...and to a large extent it really has been! Life *looks* promising.

I'm just so reluctant to take risks... to let people close...

I know this is a truly abstract blog entry... I know that it's not typical of Nick to come to the table without an intended message.

I guess I just want to officially be able to have this in print - a written record that for a little while on this hot steamy night in Texas I knew enough to know I still believe in God... in good... in renewal... in potential.

Even in me.

Someone who isn't sure why the hurt ever came or why it's hurt for so long but who is trying with everything in him to believe it's subsiding in the here & now... so slowly but so surely.

Before God & I watched our movie tonight I woke up from this dream about this person I've held genuine contempt for for about a year & a half... someone who I literally would love to punch in the face. lol.

In this dream I was eating out at this restaurant I love with friends & family. I don't know what we were all celebrating... maybe that I'd past my RPSGT exam! ...and it didn't matter why we were there - it's been so long since I've been out with friends I honestly didn't care! ...all that mattered was that there was music & laughing & love & the biggest frikin' platter of nachos I'd ever seen in front of me.

...anyway at the height of the celebration I caught a glimpse of this person out of the corner of my eye sitting at a table nearby.

He was surrounded by people I counted as friends in yesteryear and they were all engaged in a rowdy & raucous evening of their own celebratory processions.

...and the minute I saw him my entire countenance changed.

I stopped being happy & instead became angry.

...angry that of all the eateries in all the world he had to be at this one! That of all the people he could be out with that he was there with the ones whose absence from my life I still mourn... angry that in my life where I have to work so hard for happiness that he had it without even batting an eye lash...

I tried to turn back to my own table & forget about him & all who were with him but as I sat there trying to forget about it I felt like I could almost feel him boring a hole in the back of my head & telepathically asaulting me with his taunts.

"Get a clue, loser! I'm happy & you are miserable. Can't you see the way to get what you want in life is just to take it from someone else? Waiting on God for it means waiting too long! You don't even have any guarantee that what you want & what He wants are even the same freaking thing! Let's face it - if He were in the business of intervening in people's lives I wouldn't still be enjoying all I took away from you here a full year later... go on & finish your little party. Tomorrow after it's all over you'll just be your sad sack self again & I'll still have all this..."

I woke up from that dream angry that I hadn't acted on my anger. Done to him there in that world what I want to do in this one... set him straight - & employ my fists if necessary.

That's what led to my late night movie with God... and to the conversation we had afterwards about how lonely I am & how badly I miss being a part of a church. ... how sad I am that the ones I've visited haven't felt like He's anywhere on the premises... how jacked up it is that I used to be able to find him in buildings with altars in the presence of friends & how now all that seems like it was just an illusion all along.

...and as I try to dislodge a popcorn kernel from one of my back teeth with my tongue I'm simultaneously begging Him to just let something good happen to me... let me pass my test... meet a friend... or, if He isn't interested in blessing me, at least prove He's still alive, active, & well by reacting to the ones in my life who have no remorse for wounds inflicted on me.

I used to hate people who posted "woe is me" posts.

...used to want to send 'em a PM and tell 'em to stop their crying.

But that person is me now... and the reason I can't stop my crying is because I don't feel like I'm winning anymore... I don't see the champion underneath the surface the way I used to.

It's just me, God, & Netflix in the middle of the night.

...and I cherish every glimmer of hope that finds its way here to me.

How funny is it that as I was penning this blog in the overnight hours tonight I get a text from a friend in Cali as lonesome as I am?...

He says he hates sleeping alone.

I pause and am able to relate... I text him back that "I know the feeling" & wish him a goodnight anyway.

...and then unexpectedly he sends another reply.

It reads...

"...you won't be by yourself forever, Nick. You're young enough to be able to get through it & forget your loneliness when it's over".

I hope so... I think before looking with anticipation to the empty side of the couch.

I sit back, close my eyes, and go back to the party...

My Mom & Dad are there, of course.

My brother & his wife - pregnant as can be & reminding me I'm going to be an uncle for the first time by year's end.

My loony co workers...

...various friends from GCN...

...and, yeah, that jerk on the other side of the dining room is still back there.

But I have the option to be happy and forget about him... to enjoy what I do have & not dwell on what's been taken or how unfair it is that he got away with it...

...and I own my humanness so I realize I might not make it to dessert without going back there and slugging him...

But I'm going to try...
Yep, I'm going to try...

Because even if the whole thing is a mirage and it's just me at a table for one...

God's at home waiting for me on the couch...

...and He might not be all I want but He's certainly all I need.

The Sopranos And The Tenors

"I'm making it up as I go." I said to nephews Caleb and Ben, both staring at me on a Friday afternoon while seated at their individual electric pianos.  

I hope that their 11 and 9 year old selves haven't figured it out yet but, that admission?  It applies to a lot of things in my life at the moment! Lol. 

But the situation I meant for it to apply to - for the purposes of that afternoon and for this blog - was piano lessons.  

About a year ago we were covering introductions and talking about some basic music terminology and I found myself challenged because, as someone who is BARELY a musician, - lol - I've found I am also barely a music educator.  

Poor kids.  Lol.

Anyway, we were talking about melody and harmony and the difference between the two.

We settled on some definitions that I think I'm still, to this day, pretty pleased by.

"Melody - the notes on the page, the ones you sing, the ones that make a song sound familiar."

"Harmony - the notes that usually aren't on the page, the ones you hear in your head that when you sing them make the melody sound more beautiful."  😊

As it turns out, just about anything worth listening to contains a strong melody and a strong harmony that both have to be proficiently played in order to make the maximum amount of impact.

That's something I hope my brother's boys are picking up on in our weekly piano lessons and something that I hope that I continue to possess enough character and integrity to be able to teach them. Because it is vital to so much more than just a flawless performance of "God Is So Good" (which my nephews can play like little Mozarts, by the way... in case you were wondering).  

You have to have a main theme that is capable of taking on occasional tinges of pain and sometimes supporting a dissonant note or two if you're going to craft a quality musical composition.

That's a no brainer.

I think life is meant to be symphonic and so those rules apply to developing our own sense of personal ethics just like they apply to combining chords together into a well played song.  👂

And we've all been doing that these last 18 or so months, haven't we?  

Developing ourselves ethically?  Or at least trying to.

And just like Nick trying to pretend he's qualified to teach children how to play a musical instrument, most of us are finding that as we attempt to craft life philosophies that are everything that they should be that we're all kind of just making it up as we go along.

Should we be on the side of the folks who want to enforce mask and vaccine mandates?

Or the side of those who say that all of this has moved at a pace that we should be uncomfortable with and is setting dangerous precedents where things like government overreach and personal liberty are concerned? 

What would Jesus do if He were living through what we've all been living through?

Would He roll up his sleeve?  

Would He encourage faith based abstinence of any modern medical treatment?  

Would He give us His blessing to lead a charge against those who want to limit our involvement in our communities and local economies until we shutup and do as we are told?  

Would He tell us that His will is for us to be doormats?  Or lab rats?  

That it's all for the greater good because vaccines are supposed to protect the vulnerable among us and protecting the vulnerable was a core tenet of His earthly ministry; widows and orphans and such?  

I don't know about you but I see people who I know love Jesus and who care about what He thinks of how they live their lives doing ALL of those things right now.  

It's not easy to identify what part of the song is the melody and which is the harmony right now, is it?  

If you're anything like me, you hate this.  lol

You hate it because the harmony is supposed to be clearly distinguishable from the melody and vice versa and if we can't even figure out which is which, how are we going to functionally teach our kids what music is even supposed to sound like?  

The truth is we need both in order for the song that God is trying to compose to be able to be played. 

And that's frustrating!

If you've ever been in a choir, lol, you know how awful it can be when the different sections start competing to out sing one another.

It's usually the sopranos who let themselves get carried away first.

They are the easiest to hear and our ear gravitates towards what they're doing by virtue of the fact that the most recognizable refrains of whatever song is being sung are *usually* being sung by them!

Not to mention the soprano section usually has a pretty high number of ladies in its ranks.

Most women in choral groups sing soprano.

And the more of them that there are, the easier it begins to feel like you're being drowned out if you're singing any part other than theirs.

Men in church choirs usually let this go on unchallenged until the final rehearsal of the Easter cantata or Christmas pageant or whatever type of concert the choir is being expected to be in tip top shape for.  Lol

That's when that tenor section develops a collective consciousness and really starts to bellow.

Like a group of humpback whales, they sing from their guts and over power their female counterparts until the communion glasses in the serving trays on the altar begin to create ripples of grape juice within not unlike what we see happen when a T-Rex is approaching during a Jurassic Park movie.  

And the sad thing?

Everyone is convinced that this loud, over powering shouting match is exactly what the people listening in the audience WANT to be hearing... everyone singing their loudest and mixing their voices in such a way that the original cadence of the music is completely lost.

2020 and 2021 have been, for me, like sitting in that concert.

You're all singing on blast and it's self indulgent noise that's giving me a fucking headache.  

Seriously.

Can you all please just shut up?

I'm forgetting how to love you and I was never very good at it to begin with!

I need it to be something audibly palatable again.  In fact, we ALL need that!

I need there to be a healthy skepticism of government and big pharma and Dr. Anthony Fauci... but I also need those skeptics not to let their imaginations run away with them!  I need them to stay rooted in reality and not try to sell me on the idea that there's no way back from all of the wild things we've experienced as a nation these last 18 months and change!

Because with God, there's always a way back.

Sometimes it's a one way ticket in the belly of a fish but by one means or another, He'll do whatever it takes!  Lol.  👂👂

Sticking with the original metaphor, I know that with God there's always a way back because of a musical concept known as resolve.

The song isn't finished until there's resolve.

The simple chord structure that opened whatever piece you're listening to, it finds it's way through a complex mine field of harmony in order to resurface at the song's conclusion.

And when it does?

You appreciate it more than you did than the first time you heard it, don't you?  

Because after it's waded through all the deep waters it had to wade through to attach itself to all the complex harmonies that it encountered, those simple opening chord structures have proved themseleves.

You and I listening to them didn't give them validity.

The listener doesn't advocate for the song's initial chord structure to prevail!

It just does and it gains a validity we find ourselves moved by emotionally all on its own and with the passage of time.

There's no substitute for time when you're letting yourself become emotionally invested in a beautiful song.

And if 2020 and 2021 are compositions that the Almighty eventually intends to turn into something beautiful, that is something that (just like everything else He's ever done!) is going to take TIME!

Ear worms need time to fully form in their cocoons. 😊

So maybe you can stop yelling at me about how selfish I am for not wanting to take a vaccine that hasn't had time to be put through the traditional years worth of tests that every other vaccine gets put through?

And maybe I can stop listening to the talking heads on the conservative news stations that want me to believe you're a socialist.

Maybe we can all just agree to give one another the TIME we need to figure out how all these intricate pieces of music are supposed to go together and make something that when played appropriately will glorify our Father in Heaven.  

Maybe, ironically, the one thing that we most need to make this attempt at a global hymn sound amazing is grace!

And maybe we need an example we can let our souls marinate in that illustrates how sad it is when grace is withheld.

I'll attempt one!

One thing I've come to really grieve as a result of living through the pandemic is the loss of respect for a journalist I personally used to just really love.

One Mr. Anderson Cooper.

I wish that I could sell him on the virtues of remembering what it is to take your time to learn the part you're supposed to be singing. 

See, like me, Anderson spent the majority of his life in the closet and didn't come out until he had a contract with a major cable news network and was a well established television personality.

I remember people giving him flack for taking the time to figure out exactly how and when he should reveal his sexuality to his television audience and I remember thinking that those people should sit down and shut their damn traps!

Anderson often reported live from countries where he, his crew, his informants - any of them could be compromised or even killed if it were known that he was gay.  

It took time for him to figure out how to live authentically in the way that was best for him and for the people he loved.  I remember thinking that if *I* was going to be a person who says that he believes in grace that those were not things I should begrudge or shame him for wanting to consider.

I just wish now that he would grant me the same courtesy.

His newscast has become a bully pulpit in which he and his guests routinely chide people for not taking any of the various available Covid vaccines while out and out calling us "selfish" for our part in the continued loss of life.

It's an astonishing lack of grace being practiced over on CNN these days.  😞

Anderson, my friend.  I would never have told you you were selfish or responsible for the loss of life when you took your time figuring out how you felt about coming out.

Even if I could prove that your hesitancy to own your sexuality resulted in people committing suicide who maybe wouldn't have it they saw you being brave enough to own your orientation a little sooner than what you did.

You had to take your time to figure out how you were going to contribute to a complex symphony.

And Covid is no different, sir.  

So it may attract advertisers and earn you Nielsen ratings when you play clips of people obnoxiously refusing the vaccine on grounds that seem baseless.

Just like it earns Fox those same ratings when they play videos of alleged Ph.D's saying that the vaccine is reprogramming your body's DNA to turn you into part chimpanzee, part eggplant.  lol

The sopranos and the tenors have to stop competing and start realizing they're all supposed to be singing their individual tunes in a way that complements their counterparts.

We are so far apart... and so close to death... that it doesn't seem like we'll ever be able to come together and make beautiful music again.

Like Caleb trying to learn to play the notes from the treble clef while Ben tries to learn to play the notes from the bass clef.  

Or...

...like the two trees my in laws gifted us when we bought our house last year.  😊

Zach, being very in tune with his libra indecisiveness, scoured the internet when his mom and dad told us that they wanted to purchase some trees for us to plant on our new property.  

Ultimately, he decided on two gingko biloba trees.

I'm a plant geek and have been since my summers working in the Lawn & Garden department at various Walmart stores through high school and college.  

I wasn't overly familiar with this variety but I figured, hey, why not?

When they arrived, Zach diligently plotted out where they both would go.

On the west side of our front yard, on one side of the sidewalk that leads to our front door he planted the tree that I began to think of as my tree.

On the east side, he planted the one that I secretly thought of as his tree.

It's going to take a lot of time for those two trees to mature and grow independently of one another before they even come close to having their branches extended out far enough to touch one another.

But when they do?  Damn, that's gonna be beautiful.

And in the meantime, we just have to let them grow at their own rate.  

Never thinking of them as being in competition with one another.

Never thinking that one has to survive and dominate in a way that would overshadow the other.

Just letting each tree respond to its own plot of earth in a way that will permit maturation.  

The pro-maskers and anti-vaxxers need to do this same thing.

Zach & I need to do this same thing.  😊

The Big Guy and I are coming up on five years of marriage on September 3.  👂👂👂

I don't know about all of you but our marriage has hit a few rough spots courtesy of the pandemic.  Lol

We both have individual values that we place on the roles of science, government and our overall sense of personal ethics.  

They don't always jive.

But I think we know we're both in concert together.

I think we both know it's not a competition; that we both need to make allowances for one another to feel the way we feel and be as messy as we need to be as we continue to try to figure out how to be in harmony with one another on the issue of Covid-19... and every other hot button issue that comes along.  

I feel honored and privileged to be in a marriage with someone who gives me that grace.

Anderson Cooper's sorry ass certainly wouldn't ever give me the consideration that Mr. Zach Bieghler does!  LOL!

Even if all my branches grow out exclusively to the west and all of his arc out eastward towards the rising sun, eventually I have full faith that they'll intermingle on the other side of the world even if they fail to take the easiest route to achieving close contact - just reaching out towards one another across the sidewalk in front of our humble, little home.  💗

The melody is always the part that sounds familiar.

It's the part that takes on sharp edges and adapts when it encounters dissonant harmony somewhere in the middle of the song.

That's the musical theory behind my love for my guy and his love for me.  

And it can be the theory behind how we all learn to love one another again if we can just get the competition to come to a close...

...between the sopranos and the tenors.  

--------------------------------------------------

👂 = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6SEbXTRwZQ

👂👂 = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRxLhwUsvVk

👂👂👂 = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eh0egzgsfcU

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The Most Exciting Part (Originally Authored Fall of 2007)

A few weeks ago when I flew home to see my parents I saw something that has been stuck in my mind ever since. 

There at however many thousands of feet in the air we were hovering over the great state of Oklahoma I saw... a PlayBoy.

Now, before all those of you out there who have been praying that I'd be set free from my the chains of my "Divisive Lifestyle" start shouting your hallelujahs let me expound. 

It wasn't the magazine itself that intrigued me. Heck, I didn't even see inside it (nor did I WANT to see inside it!). It was concealed in a backpack sitting on the floor at the feet of it's owner, who was sleeping contently (and drooling a little bit, actually) as his private collection of leisure reading material spilled outta his backpack for all the world to see. 

Only the top of the magazine sporting the infamous bold-cap red letter banner head was visible.

Now, maybe anyone else could have just observed the situation and then cast a judgmental gaze while whispering an accusing "Pervert!" under their breath. 

But I was much too intrigued to play the part of hypocrite.

The reason being was because sticking very prominently out of the top of the magazine was what appeared to be a bookmark!

The entire flight home it drove me absolutely crazy. I kept looking down at it while munching on pretzels and sipping diet coke and thinking... Why would anyone use a bookmark for pornography?!? 

Did the guy have THAT much trouble keeping up with the storyline? 

I imagined him getting off the plane once it landed in Wichita and heading to his hotel... unpacking his suitcase and storing his clothes in the dresser drawers. Perhaps he'd have some dinner with a colleague and then go back to his room to relax. He'd pick up his magazine and say "Now, where was I?" Turning to the bookmarked page he'd exclaim, "Oh, yes, the part where the girl was doing degrading things in the nude! That's right!"

The plane landed, the guy woke up and we both exited. Had it been a layover I really think I would have had to have asked him what the deal was... But my Mom, who I hadn't seen since before Christmas, was waiting for me and I was very anxious to see her... thus, my curiosity went by the wayside.

I actually didn't even think about it again until the other day while doing a little bit of browsing a the local Christian bookstore. 

They had a whole array of bookmarks on display. 

Most of them were those laminated ones the size of playing cards that have names and their meanings printed on them.

I, of course, had to look to see if they had one with the name "Nicholas" on it. 

Used to be I could NEVER find anything with my name on it. But I guess now that there's a whole generation of us "Nicholas"'s in out twenties merchandise with our names on it is more readily available.  

Such was evidenced in the fact that there was about 30 "Nicholas" bookmarks in stock at the Christian Bookstore where I was shopping. 

When last I checked my name meant "Leader of Men". That definition had been the one I'd found while completing a project in Jr. High where we had to look up the meaning of our names and then write an essay on "What God Expects Me To Accomplish" based on what we found.

Lol... sidebar: "What God Expects Me To Accomplish"... yeah, we were CLEARLY firmly founded in the whole "Salvation Not Being By Works" doctrine... lol.

Anyway, I was surprised see that the meaning of my name had been slightly modified since the last time I'd checked. 

The bookmark had my name in large cursive writing. In a smaller font set below it it read "He Who Ushers In Change". 

And as tacky as it was with it's exaggerated fonts and waterfall background I found that that meaning set very well with me, actually. 

Recently while meandering down Austin's infamous 6th Street with some friends on a Saturday night I saw a lady wearing a tee-shirt that read "THIS is Freedom?".

And while I know that it was actually a commentary on the way things are currently going down in Iraq and the populace's distaste for the current leader of THIS country, I found that the sentiment was also appropriate when applied to my own frustrations with the faith. 

Frustrations that have been with me a LONG while. 

Frustrations that I hope will continue to anger me enough that I WILL become one who ushers in change. 

I am far from perfect. But perhaps perfection isn't a prerequisite when aspiring to help people to see things differently. Perhaps duplicity can best be pointed out to others by someone well versed in its routine. Lol.

I can think of no better example than the practice of a local ex-gay ministry that I recently learned of back up in Wichita.

As is the case in most ex-gay ministries, there is one house for women trying to conquer lesbianism and one for men trying to conquer homosexuality.

I learned of Wichita's ex-gay residency program in the year that I spent living back at home. I even visited the church that hosted it a few times and met some program graduates many of whom, even after a year (and several thousand dollars, I might add) spent daily consecrating themselves in the Word and asking God to change their orientation were still gay as blazes.... 

The brave ones would actually admit it.

One of them, a guy I became friends with and who I'll call Samuel, had reconciled his faith and orientation after a year of "treatment". 

The few times that I visited the church with him we would sit together and he'd fill me in on what was going on. Together, we'd marvel at the afore mentioned "duplicity". 

One Sunday the pastor stood up to announce that the Men's Ex-Gay House was going to be spending the upcoming Saturday doing yardwork at the Women's Ex-Gay House. 

Samuel chuckled and chortled under his breath.

"What?" I whispered to him, curious to know what had made him laugh. 

Samuel took an ink pen and wrote on the back of his bulletin, "Tell you at lunch"

Later over Panera he filled me in...

"The yardwork day... they do it every year. It's one of like a million exercises that they say they had us do because 'only when we make serving others in Christ's love the priority it should be will we have less of a desire to selfishly concentrate on deviance'. But then you get there... you start mowing grass and bagging up clippings and working up a sweat and the leaders of both houses have it all coordinated. The counselors running the lesbian house have them all go to the windows to watch the men from the gay house doing all the yardwork. Then the counselors supervising the men go around and tell them that if they're getting too overheated they should take off their shirts. It's not about 'Christian Service' at all. It's about teaching lesbians how to be horny for shirtless gay men."

I want to scream the slogan from that lady's tee-shirt when I hear things like this... "THIS is freedom???"

THIS IS FREEDOM?!?!?

Then I want to dig out the bookmark that I ended up buying that day at the Christian bookstore, hold it up to the sky and ask God "How, when, and where will I be able to live up to the meaning of my name? When will I get my act together enough to truly be able to effectively 'usher in change'?"

The way I remember, "If the Son has set you free you are free indeed." Beating your vices isn't something accomplished via learning new ones... and victory isn't secured just because you learn how to exercise socially accpetable sins in place of sins that aren't (lust for the opposite gender over lust for the same!)!

The verse in I John reads that if we ask "...anything in accordance with His will" that we can have faith that we "...will receive it"!

Thousands have spent hours on their knees before God asking Him to change them... some claim those prayers are answered. Many of them end up faking their victories... getting married... starting families... only to be discovered hooking up with male prostitutes in a gay bar in the wee hours of the morning years later.

But most (thank you, Jesus) MOST finally realize... If God says I can ask Him for anything... and that He'll give it to me if it's His will... and I've asked repeatedly... and He hasn't given it to me... then maybe just maybe it's not His will for me to change.

It's exhilarating to take God at His word. And it's scary because most people get very angry when you do so. 

Because it's in those moments that you start down the path towards actually BEING someone who can usher in change.

The only frustrating thing is the process. 

You start an exciting process... the story builds momentum... the plot's building towards this grand crescendo and then - you have to stop.

Right in the middle.

Right when it's getting good.

Because even visionaries have to take time to do the everyday things like paying bills, maintaining relationships with family, and working towards climbing the corporate ladder.

You realize that just because you're capable of being an agent of change doesn't mean you have permission to stop being a responsible adult.

And that's where the concept of a bookmark comes in quite handy.

Some may use a laminated piece of plastic in order to keep track of which topless blonde bombshell they were last looking at...

But you and I can take it to a whole new level. 

A passion to see things change... to see things come full circle and witness a world be re-born where people are acceptable because and only because Jesus says they are...

Just fold your heart in two and bury that passion in the crease... 😊

Perhaps I'll Die (Originally Authored April 20, 2009)

There were no Bible verses that came to mind when I had to make the decision I was about to make. 

And I hated that. 

I wanted some sort of obvious instruction from God that the action I was about to proceed with was the right one. 

But no such assurances were available.

It was just me... here... in this moment. The only thing needed to secure some peace seemed to be this one undone action that with one flick of the wrist could be performed... and the only thing stopping me from doing it was the knowledge that once done it could not be undone.

My thoughts raced. If I was going to do it I may as well do it now... while his back was turned. I certainly couldn't ask for a better opportunity. 

Better this way with his gaze fixed on something other than me... I didn't want his last memory of me to be one of feeling betrayed.

Come on, Nick. Just do it! a little voice inside my head urged.

So much conflict... was obedience or rebellion the right response? Could I really say goodbye to him? After all this time was now our final moment together?

I suppose this would all be a heck of a lot easier if I hadn't already lost him once.

Back in February when I moved to San Antonio from Austin I found myself confused as to why he hadn't made an appearance in my final days as a resident there. 

Yes, it had been a while since the last time I'd seen him but I guess on some level I just expected that he'd show up at least once more before the last box was loaded onto the UHaul trailer and I said goodbye to the city forever.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I made my peace with it (without really acknowledging that that was what I was doing) as I spent that last night falling asleep on the sofa where so often he had come to find me.

I awakened the next morning and did my best to digest the reality that he had opted to remain absent... did not want to see me... and there was no explanation.

It hurt. I cannot lie.

Well, imagine my surprise when just a few weeks later he showed up again! Here I had thought that our swan song had played in it's entirety and no sooner do I begin to accept it then the little guy makes a surprise appearance!

He always did know how to make an entrance... and this time was no exception. 

I was unpacking the last of my moving boxes the day that he showed up and I heard him before I saw him.

As I lifted the corner tab on a cardboard box labeled with a Sharpie marker as "Christmas Ornaments" out he flew on a jetstream of glitter and tinsel debris. 

He buzzed angrily at me for a few seconds and my mouth dropped open at the sight of him. I couldn't believe it! The little housefly from the apartment I had lived in in Austin had survived being packed away with some random holiday decor and had traveled as a stowaway all the way to my new digs in S.A.!

I had tried to kill the little rascal a million times after the day he flew in the front door of my Austin apartment. 

I'd swat at him with rolled up newspaper or various pieces of junkmail... but the little guy was fast and would always fly up into the high corners of the ceiling anytime he felt too threatened. 

Eventually I gave up and just accepted him as an additional tenant. 

I always stayed out of his way and for the most part he stayed out of mine.

Once moving day began creeping up on me I lost track of him and figured he'd just flown out the same door he'd flown in...

Never did I imagine that this whole time he was devising a plan to transfer to my new city of residence with me!

And even though he had always been something of a nuisance the truth is (as you might imagine) I had developed a fondness for the little guy. In all honesty, when he came buzzing out of that cardboard box a little something in me was happy to see him again and even hoped he might stick around.

Mr. Fly was the only familiar face I'd seen in a long while and, as pathetic as it may sound, the only real friend I felt I had in a much larger radius than what I'd really like to admit.

I continued settling in to my apartment and Mr. Fly did the same. I'd spy him buzzing around the apartment as I'd lay in bed at night and watch TV... wondering if he'd missed sharing living quarters with me as much as I had with him.

When I found a spiderweb in one of the lower kitchen cabinets I pulled him aside to let him know about it so that he'd be sure to stay away... I couldn't tell exactly but by the way he rubbed his two front little legs together I think he was highly appreciative to be informed.

Mr. Fly and I were soon just as much a symbiotic pair as we ever were.

And then... one day... I began to feel very, very sick.

One night when I was feeling particularly feverish I quietly got up out of bed and crept into the other room where my laptop was. 

I logged onto WebMD and began to do a little research about what kind of health risks were involved in sharing living quarters with someone of a caliber like my roommate's. 

I was saddened to see that house flies are shameless carriers of all types of germs. Mr. Fly, as much value as he was in the currency of familiarity, was likely making me very ill.

And so, possessing this new knowledge, the inner turmoil began.

Was it better to be sick and happy? Or well and lonely?

Nothing felt familiar in San Antonio. And as ridiculous as even I admit that it sounds I was heartbroken to think that the one soul I felt like I had some sort of genuine tie to I now needed to sever my acquaintance with... and for the second time no less!

I suppose I always knew this day would come, though.

Because it doesn't matter how much you love someone... if all they do is hurt and sicken you... the time will inevitably come when you have to say goodbye.

Which brings us back to the place where this narrative started...

With me... in the kitchen... with an old rolled up Prevail Sport underwear catalogue.

Mr. Fly is sitting with his back to me just inside one of the counter drawers that I left slightly ajar the last time I was in it. 

He's perched atop a postcard of a stained glass Jesus... right smack dab in the middle of the Messiah's face.

And I have a decision to make.

Do I really want to kill you, Mr. Fly? Do I really want to say "goodbye"? It's true... what I get out of our friendship is a very minimal amount of pleasure but it's good to feel good... even if only a very little. Is it worth subjecting myself to whatever harm you may continue to do to me just so I can have the tiny pleasure of holding onto you for as long as I can?

Mr. Fly stays perfectly still... I creep toward him with the rolled up catalog raised...

"There was an old lady..." I sing, inching ever closer. ( 👂 )

Mr. Fly's front two feet come up off of Stained Glass Jesus' face and begin to intertwine.

"...who swallowed a fly".

Mr. Fly reverts back to his original position.

"...I don't know why... she swallowed a fly..."

Now or never, Nick. Time to let go... time to move on. There are greater relationships to be had than with a dirty little housefly who will only serve to make you sick over and over again...

And as Mr. Fly does an aerial 180, I bring the song to a close and SWAT!...

And no sooner than the words have left my mouth... "Perhaps she'll die!"... than Mr. Fly is a greasy sticky spot in Stained Glass Jesus' goblet of stained glass wine.

I open the drawer to retrieve the postcard and wipe it clean. "Sorry, Lord." I apologize, "Didn't mean to ruin Your beverage."

And as I put Stained Glass Jesus back in his kitchen counter drawer I look at Him & I feel led to ask, "Do You think I did the right thing? Ending an unhealthy relationship? Was it the right thing to do since obviously he was content to pretend we could always be friends even while constantly presenting a threat for harm?"

And while maybe, yes, that was a lot to be asking of a postcard - I felt somewhat betrayed.

Jesus genuinely didn't seem to have an opinion on the matter.

And that, perhaps, made me more sad than anything.

I had lost a relationship that I'd been holding onto pretty tightly... and I'd finally made the decision that to continue to do so was detrimental to me... and all I really wanted was His opinion on the matter...

And as I quietly searched my heart I found I just couldn't hear Him offering any commentary. ( 👂👂 )

And so, not knowing what else to do I went to the front door, turned the knob, and let it swing wide open.

I got into bed intent on letting it stay open all night as I slept...

Because perhaps that way someone new could fly into my life... and maybe this time it'd be someone I could love without abandon...

...Someone who wouldn't make me sick...

...Someone I'd never have to worry about saying goodbye to...

Someone who maybe even Jesus would have a strong enough opinion on to share His thoughts with me

And with that thought came a smile... and dare I say it? It almost felt like it wiggled and jiggled and tickled inside...

And I hopped into bed and fell asleep as the children's song played on a loop in my mind.

"Rest in peace, Mr. Fly." I whispered.

And with that I said my final goodbye.

*parts of the previous blog entry may or may not be entirely metaphorical in nature.  

Soundtrack For This Week's Blog

👂 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KiESiO6tLM8

👂👂 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0IpbkUAItGk