There’s so much I should have been blogging about but haven’t been.
Like the time I walked into work and I felt this tickle in my butt. I went so far as to slap my butt cuz I thought someone grabbed me. Then I walked about 20 feet and I felt a tickle behind my knee. I was like whoa. Then I felt a tickle in my calf. And it all clicked. The boxers I wore 2 days before were still there and now worming their way out hoping to escape and humiliate me on my walk in to work. What was I to do? It was already at my calf. I tried to hurry up and maybe I could make it to the bathroom… NO! The boxers had carefully timed their escape to eliminate that option. I was like, ‘I will not be bettered by 2 day old boxers’. So I took about 10 more steps and they fell to my ankle…. I knelt to tie my shoe and put my messenger bag down strategically. Tied my shoe. Pulled out my boxers. Put them in my bag.

Holy Canoli. I was shaking.

I should also blog about the pain of fixing furnaces and humidifiers.
I should blog about the car accident Annalisa got in.
I should blog about our poopy tenant and what real trust in God is.
I should blog about how painful Christianity can be and whether or not you should turn around and inform the store that just charged you for 700 poker chips that you actually purchased 1400 poker chips and they made a $60 mistake.
I should blog about Isaiah and how dope he looks in my hat.
I should blog about Finding Neverland and how I cried and cried. It was a release of some kind. Can’t put my finger on it. There’s just some sorts of human pain that I really connect with. I’ve been slightly acute to it lately, but I’ve noticed there is definitely a hole in my soul that was burned there by my experiences. It’s where a part of my innocence used to live and a part of my faith in others.

I should blog about just how bad my fantasy football team is.

Guns Blazing.
That’s me in 2005. Comin’ out guns blazing. The odds are stacked against you. You’re backed into a corner. It’s just you and your small gang. Greed and fear and pain and doubt and lust and apathy are bearing down. They have got bigger guns. They’ve got more guns. Sometimes, you just gotta buckle down, say screw it, let out some kind of primal yell and come out Guns Blazing. This is the time. Advent means coming or arrival and it represents a time of preparation for something big. The advent of Christ for example. It’s funny to me how so many atheists and agnostics still participate in Christmas when they don’t believe in the events or truths behind the holiday. You’d think they would denounce it completely and be free of the hassle. But nope. They’re right in the thick of things, holding secular traditions more sacred than religious people hold real traditions.

FYI.
“All this isn't to say that Coca-Cola didn't have anything to do with cementing that image of Santa Claus in the public consciousness. The Santa image may have been standardized before Coca-Cola adopted it for their advertisements, but Coca-Cola had a great deal to do with establishing Santa Claus as a ubiquitous Christmas figure in America at a time when the holiday was still making the transition from a religious observance to a largely secular and highly commercial celebration. In an era before color television (or commercial television of any kind), color films, and the widespread use of color in newspapers, it was Coca-Cola's magazine advertisements, billboards, and point-of-sale store displays that exposed nearly everyone in America to the modern Santa Claus image. Coca-Cola certainly helped make Santa Claus one of the most popular men in America, but they didn't invent him.”

Anyways,
Guns Blazing.
Lots of Bible reading. Lots of exercising. Lots of time with family. Lots of writing. Lots of holding myself and friends accountable. Lots of being in service to God and others. Lots of one touches, good passing, excellent defense, and beautiful goals. Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down.

By the way, New Years is gonna be awesome. I’m so excited. We’re having a Casino night at Ryan’s. He built a roulette table, a craps table, and a poker table. Holy wow it’s gonna be fun.

Hmmm.

Question:
When was the last time your mother said, “I am so proud of you.”
This statement always brings tears to my eyes.
“I have never been more proud of you.”
“You make me so proud.”
There’s a desert in all of us. When these words are spoken to us by our mothers, it’s as if the little boy that lives in that desert gets a glass of water. But the boy doesn’t recognize it when he sees it. It’s as if he hasn’t had water for so long, and that he’s learned how to live without it for so long, that he forgot he ever needed it. He learns all over again how much more there is to the world with the liquid that brings life. That recognition of old knowledge triggers emotions so deep. Hope for that glass of water died a long time ago. That hope is buried far beneath the sand. But the water is here, now, given freely because it can’t be requested. The boy cries and cries. He chooses not to suppress this release because he couldn’t if he wanted to.

The truth is, boys become men. Men become real. The desert remains. I know what it’s like to forget to hope. So I reach out.

Isaiah, I am just so proud of you.

I don’t think I’ll have to remind your mother to tell you, but I’ll try if you look a little thirsty.