Good Night John Boy!
February 24th, 2010
“Good Night, John Boy!” Staff meetings at Ridgedale are every pastor’s dream (or nightmare!). It’s a time when all the ministers get together, have lunch, have a devotional, pray together, coordinate our ministries, and share a lot of opinions! The event takes place every week and usually takes half a day. It’s the only time that we all get together in a typical week and sounds much like the Walton’s “Good Night” routine.
Even though there are no rules for our meetings, there’s a general expectation of what our purpose and personal involvement are. Each week, a different minister leads the weekly devotion. The assigned minister also gets to choose where we eat. We go to some interesting places!
Recently, it was Judi’s week. I pulled rank on Judi and chose Genghis Grill (downtown on Market). Great place to eat. You choose your own meat, vegetables, sauces, etc and they cook it for you. I give it 4 stars!
Afterwards, back in the staff meeting, Judi talked to us about the earthquake in
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Good KleeN Fun
February 16th, 2010
David came to me today and said, "We need a blog for the website, make it happen."
That's all well and good and I love to blog as much as the next guy, but it was a busy day. It was one of those days where I felt like I had a thousand and one things to do, and we had staff meeting, AND we were going to the FCA banquet, AND etc, etc. So not wanting to be one to disappoint, I am cheating. I am going to add a blog that I did about something that happened way back in September of 2008. That was back before I was married. Back before I was Minister to Senior Adults. Back before life got so busy.
Back when I was Tony's intern. Back when my job was to do all the things Tony didn't want to do. "The good old days" as Tony likes to refer to them. This is a blog about one day when I had to clean the popcorn machine. Seems kind of boring and mundane, so I will try to entice you to read further with this picture:
Originally Posted: 09september2008
Today Tony asked me to clean the popcorn popper. Popcorn poppers are the fish tanks of the corn world so I wasn’t all that excited about cleaning it. We have been out of the cleaner for a few weeks so the gunk has really built up. We got new cleaner in today so as Tony ran errands and worked on other things I began to clean the popcorn popper.
What I used was KleeN Sweep. Yes, it has one giant N for no apparent reason. It is basically just a superduper degreaser. So like any red-blooded American man I grabbed the can, the popcorn popper innards and I took them into the sink in the back closet room area and I sprayed half the can on it.
And then, lightheaded from the fumes and waiting on the superduper degreaser to do its magic, I read the back label. It said, and I quote:
KleeN Sweep is a powerful gel that dissolves grease and carbon buildup from metal surfaces, brick, and glass. KleeN Sweep works quickly and easily saving time and labor.
That's what I'm talking about! I remember thinking, Tony has given me this ridiculous responsibility but it is going to turn out to be easy-breezy and I will have plenty of time to make it to the store for some Q-tips. I was out of Q-tips, it has absolutely nothing to do with the story I was just really hoping to have time to go to the store for Q-tips before my soccer game.
And then I continued reading,
DIRECTIONS
SHAKE WELL BEFORE USING. Wear rubber gloves and protective eye gear. Be sure appliance is cool and dry. Spray KleeN Sweep generously, holding can 8 to 10 inches from the surface. Do not get on skin, paint, floors, walls or plastic tile. Leave KleeN Sweep on appliance for 15 minutes to 5 hours. Test with small wooden stick to see if carbon…
Wait, what? I thought. My mind was working a little slower because of the fumes and I didn’t really catch all I was reading at first so I read again, “Wear rubber gloves and protective eye gear.” Ehh, that’s just something they say because they have to, I thought. “Be sure appliance is cool and dry. Spray KleeN Sweep blah, blah, blah… Do not get on skin, paint, floors, walls….” Wait, WHAT?? Don’t get on skin, paint or FLOORS??? Huh? Wait, what is this stuff???
The fumes were really starting to get to me at this point, I was getting more lightheaded and I suddenly felt like I was in that scene from Black Sheep where Chris Farley and David Spade were driving and the nitrous oxide tank leaks into the car. I was like “road… rude…ru-AD…roo-ad…ROW-ads…rudezz…OOOOOHHHHHH NO, MAN WE’RE STONED!”
My tongue was tingling and my lungs felt like someone had reached in and slathered them down with Vicks Vapor Rub. I felt like my breath was from that gum commercial where when you breathe out things around you get frozen. The gunk was being superduper degreased while at the same time I was being poisoned through every orifice.
I walked out of the room and went over to Chad who was working on his sermon for Wednesday night and said, “I think I might die.”
He said, “Okay.” because we have a very loving and caring friendship.
I said, “I think I might have… wait, stand back, I don’t want to freeze you… I think I might have breathed in too much of that stuff.”
“What is it?” he said.
“KleeN Sweep with a big N,” I said, not really trying to be funny, thinking that I better give him as much detail as possible in case I passed out.
“‘Kleen Sweep with a big N’??” he said as he laughed.
“Yes,” I said upset he didn’t think this was serious. “I feel like I have breathed in poison,” I told him as I breathed out really deep and hard thinking I could rid my lungs of it.
“What is that stuff?”
“Superduper degreaser that you are supposed to leave on 15 minutes to 5 hours.”
“15 minutes to 5 hours???” he repeated as he laughed thinking I was joking again.
“No really, that’s what it says, ‘15 minutes to 5 hours.’ That’s the kind of product we are dealing with here.” And then I hugged him and said, “I love you, man.”
To which his response was, “Huh?”
I said, “I love you, man. I just want to tell you that just in case.”
He said, “In case you die.” And laughed.
NOTE: We don’t handle serious situations seriously. Were we ever to get our legs chopped off at the local mall as we were lying there waiting on the ambulance we would make several jokes that would make those around us very uncomfortable. But they would make us laugh and really, we would be the ones with our legs chopped off so at that point it would kinda be all about us anyway.
“I keep breathing out really hard thinking I can get it out of my lungs,” I said as I breathed out hard again. “You know how if you drink something poisonous you induce vomiting or eat bread or something… I want to breathe in bread. I know that my esophagus and my bronchial tubes are different and I know that sounds weird but I think I would be better if I could just inhale bread and let it just soak up all the poison in my lungs.”
“I think there’s some cinnamon rolls over there left over from Sunday,” Chad said not even looking up from his computer.
“Maybe I should drink milk,” I said.
I was walking around still doing the hard breathing out thing like a cat with a hairball stuck in its throat picking up random things thinking I might be able to MacGyver something up to feel better. As I picked up a mustard packet, a styrofoam cup and a pencil I said to Chad, “Mango Habanero wings and huffing KleeN Sweep is probably not the best way to get ready for my soccer game tonight…”
“Yeah, probably not,” he said looking up at me and laughing seeming to appreciate my dying which provided a bit of a break in his afternoon work.
I poured a glass of orange juice because I couldn’t find milk and took a sip. “I don’t even like Sunny Delight to tell you the truth,” I told Chad I guess thinking if I am going out I didn’t want him thinking I did. It’s weird what you do and say when you think you are gonna die.
I continued to wonder around HHUUUUUUHHHHing and HHEEEEEEEing somehow thinking that if I breathed just right I could birth the poisonous fumes right out of my lungs.
“I’m gonna meet Paul Barys high,” talking about Maggie’s dad, local weatherman Paul Barys, who was gonna be at my soccer game later that night because she had joined our team but sounding completely ridiculous to anyone not knowing that.
“What???” Chad said as he looked up from his screen laughing still enjoying the fact that I was loopy thinking that maybe I was just putting together ridiculous verbs and nouns like my side of the conversation was some kind of reading back of a random MadLibs.
“I feel like there are Smurfs riverdancing on my eyeballs,” I said back to him in response, continuing, “I need protective eye gear.”
He laughed which made me laugh and for some reason I began putting on some rubber gloves I had found. I pulled 6 or 7 paper towels off the roll and began to tie a makeshift face mask to protect my nose and mouth as I went back into the back closet room to check the progress. It had been about 20 minutes, which was at the lower end of the 15 minutes to 5 hour window I was given on the KleeN Sweep can but I wanted to see how much of the gunk had been removed, in the back of my mind knowing that the same amount had probably been removed from the lining of my lungs.
Chad hollered at me, “Hey man, I think I am going to go home and check on Shepherd.” Shepherd is his 6 month old baby who has had an off and on stomach virus thing for a few days and someone I think he should love and care about… but I was dying a slow high death before his eyes. Even still, a good friend till the end I said, “Okay, let me know if you need anything.”
The next few minutes I spent scrubbing the popcorn popper with a giant green scrubby pad still breathing in the fumes from underneath my makeshift gas mask which instead of protecting me was only succeeding in making my tingling nose and lips all sweaty.
I sprayed more of the KleeN Sweep on the popcorn popper innards because at this point I figured if I was going out that at least I was gonna leave the world with a superduper degreased popcorn popper. I walked out of the back closet room and seemed to kind of wander around. For some reason I left my rubber latex gloves and paper towel mask on, not realizing how ridiculous I must look. Looking back it would have been funny had a neighboring office looked in through the windows and seen me wandering around and called the police thinking I was a burglar or something.
There’s no telling what I would have said to the police but I am sure it would have included something crazy about breathing in bread which would surely have gotten me thrown in the nut house. I waited around for a few more minutes before I decided that with a window as loose as ‘15 minutes to 5 hours’ a few more hours couldn’t hurt, so I took off my hazmat suit and packed my bag up to go. I debated whether or not I should make and drink a cup of coffee to sober me up before I drove home, but then figuring I only lived on the next street over, about a 200 yards as the crow flies, I cranked my Jeep and drove through the woods home.
The moral of this story: The next time you go to the movies and the concession stand guy is laughing and carrying on and seeming to have way more fun with his job than he should, take a quick glance at the clean popcorn machine and just know, there’s probably a reason…
If you enjoyed this and would like to know more ridiculousness about my life, and you can't wait till David insists I step away from my busy life and post a blog here, you can always check out my website KevinTheCoolGuy.com for a daily dose of ridiculous. Warning, you should probably wear a mask and protective eyegear (that's just something that they make me say).
Okay, see ya!
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The Monday Before Christmas...
December 21st, 2009
I went to work dressed like this:
Because that’s what Ministers of Senior Adults wear to work the Monday before Christmas. Apparently.
Actually the elf outfit happened by accident, or by extortion, or, well, accidental extortion. I got a call from someone we will call "Mrse. Lynne Smithe" to protect her identity, and she told me she was having trouble finding a Santa Claus for the Widow’s Lunch on Monday and she needed my help. My first thought was, I have a beard, it does a have a small patch of gray, and I guess I have put on a couple of pounds over the years, but surely she doesn’t think I am Santa material yet…right???
“I thought maybe you could do it,” she said.
I’m old and fat and gray, I thought.
“We’ll have to stuff lots of pillows in your costume ofcourse,” she said.
“I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” I heard myself saying before I could think about it. I was just glad that she wasn’t calling me old and fat and gray, I guess. Being Santa will be fun though and make a great Photo of the Day for my website, I thought.
Mrse. Lynne Smithe called me back the next day and said, “I couldn’t find a Santa costume anywhere, but I found an elf costume, would you wear that?”
Because I’m short and havepointy ears?? I thought. The holidays make me very sensitive apparently.
“I have a little outfit with pointy ears and some really cool shoes,” she said.
“I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” I heard myself saying before I could think about it. Again.
So the plan was set, I was to show up at the Widow’s Lunch dressed as an elf to hand out gifts. Great!
Except on Monday morning we have staff meeting. And this Monday morning I had devotion. I couldn’t find a way to make my devotion elf related so I thought I better not show up dressed as an elf because I wanted them to take my devotion seriously. So much so that I wore a button up shirt. With a sweater over it. My button up shirt was wrinkled and I didn’t want to iron but I still wanted to be taken seriously. It’s a trick I learned from Hints from Heloise. Anyway, after the meeting I changed into my elf outfit.
And then I thought it would be funny if I put my other clothes in my chair at my computer like I had been working and disappeared.
I thought it would be funny when someone walked by and saw it.I thought it would look like I had been raptured and they had been left behind.
I went down to the Widow’s Lunch and Mrse. Lynne Smithe told me it was running behind schedule so it would be a few more minutes and that I could just work until they were ready. So I did.
I was making copies and going about business as normal. The best part was the ladies in the office hadno idea I was going to be dressing as an elf for the Widow’s Lunch so to them Iwas just randomly dressed as an elf for work.
Although I am the guy who started “Dress Like a Cowboy Fridays” so they probably weren’t that surprised. And the 4 year olds in the Lions Pre-School Class by the Ridgedale Room weren’t really either. I hung out in there for a few minutes before going into the Widow’s Lunch. I even made a new friend.
Ellie the Elf.
After promising each of the boys and girls that I would tell Santa one last time they had been good boys and girls, it was off to the Ridgedale Room to spread more glee!
After the festivities of handing out gifts as Santa’s elf (I don’t have pictures of this because I was too busy hopping around handing out gifts and hugging necks, but Mrse. Lynne Smithe does, I think) I came back to my office and I saw THIS:
John and Tony and Chad had changed my set up to make it look like I had not only been raptured, but I had been passed out drunk when it happened.
The Morale of theStory:
John and Tony and Chad are on Santa’s Naughty List, do not get them anything for Christmas.
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Donut Time in Tennessee
November 12th, 2009
Waiting for Godot. Does that ring a bell? It’s a play by Samuel Beckett that I studied in college. Two characters waited for Godot, who was a no-show.
We spend a lot of time waiting. Waiting in the check-out line, waiting in traffic, waiting for the traffic light, waiting for the last person to come to the dinner table so the meal can begin, waiting for the copy machine to warm up, waiting for the computer to crank out a list of names and addresses we needed yesterday.
I tend to get a little restless when I have to wait. My wife would say that I get cranky.
Recently, I took my grandson to get a donut, a Saturday morning treat for both of us. But the donut shop was “Closed for renovation.” Two weeks later, I drove by the same shop and there was a new sign: “Dunkin’ Donut Coming Soon.” Being the donut aficionado that I am, how soon was soon??
The big day came on
When we got to the donut shop, the parking lot was full and there was a long line, but I knew it would be worth it. Finally we got to the register. I made my purchase and could hardly wait (irony) to consume my reward. My pastry was filled with custard, not the white sugary cream I had anticipated. My decaf coffee was not hot, not warm, nearly cold; I would have settled for just about right.
Sometimes, the things we wait for never happen (Godot, the Great Pumpkin….) Sometimes, what we get after the wait isn’t worth the wait. Am I missing something? In God’s great master-plan for my life, maybe the thing missing is creative waiting. When God puts me in a waiting line, it’s definitely not because He’s too busy.
What if it’s not about what happens AFTER you wait but what happens WHILE you wait? The next time I have to wait, I’m going to play along with God. When He says, “I know something you should do,” I’m going to look around for clues. That’s probably what He meant when He said, “Good things come to those who wait.” Actually, that’s not a direct quote but a lot of people think it is. What the Word actually says is that those who creatively wait upon the Lord will discover a burst of energy and soar to new heights (Isaiah 40:31 my paraphrase). Have fun waiting, and be a blessing while you’re doing it!
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A Time to Dance?
November 4th, 2009
It is safe to say that, around the age of 12 or 13, there is a huge difference in the way that your child will look at life. Your sweet baby no longer goes over to a friend's house after school to 'play'. If you even use the word 'play,' they will shrink down in the chair or shush you. Why? The reason is very simple. Kids in middle school do not 'play'. They 'hang out'.
It is also around this time that kids fully embrace the idea of relationships. They usually have the first case of 'puppy love' (and to think, you bought all of those Valentine's cards during elementary in vain.)They begin to wear cologne or perfume. They worry about their hair a little more. They even communicate with their girlfriends and boyfriends on the phone.
When I was in middle school, I dealt with a little of this myself. I had a young girl that I talked to on the phone. (It is so weird to think that we used to actually talk into the phone. On top of that, they were plugged into the wall!) We decided very quickly that we were going to 'go' together. As middle schoolers, this consisted of walking to classes together and occasionally carrying tray at lunch. We were 'going' together, but we really did not have anywhere to 'go.'
Then one day flyers were placed around school for our Halloween dance! We finally had a destination-a place to 'go.'
It did not start off too great. I showed up wearing a hockey mask and casual clothes in a half hearted attempt to portray a character from scary movies. I had my mom drop me off a good distance from the dance to keep from being embarrassed by the mere thought that I, a 12 year old boy, could not find my own way to the school cafeteria. I ended up being embarrassed because the distance of the walk caused me to break into a sweat. Luckily, the strong aroma of Polo cologne completely overwhelmed the nostrils of anyone who stood within five yards of me.
The second problem proved a little more difficult. In all of our conversations, the two of us had never discussed costumes. I aimlessly walked around asking everyone if they had seen any resemblance of my girl. Eventually, I found her. She was dressed as a football player. Her costume was complete with eye black, shoulder pads, a helmet, and cleats. She was taller than me anyway. The cleats made dancing with her as difficult as sitting on the front row of a movie theater. Combining her uniform with my hockey mask made it seem like we should be on the
Mid-dance, I was a little disappointed with the whole evening. So, as we stood in the middle of the dance floor, I did what middle schoolers do-I broke up with her. Upon completing this task, I took off my hockey mask and went and did what chubby kids do. I went and sat beside the Booster Club table that was selling popcorn and cokes.
Moments later, a friend of hers came over to me and told me that my now ex-girlfriend was crying on the other side of the room. I was more into the Little Debbie in my clutches than the conversation. I asked a question that made logical sense to me as a 7th grade boy, “Why?” The friend replied, “Because you broke up with her, dummy!”
In a moment of nothing besides sheer brilliance, I uttered said to her, “Go tell her that I was just kidding.”
So she did. And the girlfriend bought it! We ended up dancing for the rest of the evening. She was happy because she had her dance partner back. I was happy because I realized that, if I did not want to deal with the strains of middle school love, I could break up because she would take me back. My commitment to her was really a commitment to my own happiness. I could walk away if I wanted and come back with 'I did not mean it. It was just a joke.' It was just a look-warm, half hearted commitment.
Many of us are living out our journey with Jesus in very much the same way. We are committed when it is good for us and then stuck in the monotony of self absorbed living three weeks later. We stand on a spiritual peak singing promises that, too often, end up just being words. Our commitment to God is half-hearted at best.
The problem with this line of thinking is the Bible. Nowhere in scripture do we find God viewing this approach to Christ and His kingdom as something that we have the right to treat so flippantly. Christ says for us to love him whole heartedly (Mark 12: 28-31) and that His glory belongs to no one else (Isaiah 48:9-11). Too often, for the sake of our own desires and pleasure, our commitment to God translates as a vain, half hearted treatment of His love and a cheap view of His grace. When God is taken for granted and treated like this, our commitment translates as 'half-hearted'.
It does not take a terrible Halloween costume to realize that half-hearted commitment is not commitment at all.
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