The following video is of a song that I absolutely love. It is Skillet's "Awake and Alive." It is a great song, especially to start out a road trip (because it pumps you up and... uh... awakens you). I could (and have) just listen to the song on a loop. Plus you have to love the use of the violin.
Beyond the music itself, I also love the message of the song. The world is out to destroy me, but I will fight. I will go on. When I am to my limit, I rely on God and He renews my strength. With God on my side, no one can stop me. This song gets me pumped up, ready to really live, not the shadow of an existance that this world offers, but really live. In times that I need refreshment and courage, this song gives it.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
To my future wife
Now I don't know if I will ever get married. At this point, a date seems well out of reach. Anyway, since Dad's passing, I've been feeling a particular desire to find the comfort and intimacy that comes through a marital relationship, not that there's anything I can do about it. Regardless, I thought that I would right a note to anyone that I would marry.
As I have said on the profile, I am a romantic at heart. Maybe this sounds like the romantic ramblings of a lonely man who has little experience in the way things really operate. Maybe. But I think deep down, this is the desire of how all men wished their relationships worked. So ladies, remember that he needs a partner, not a yapping chiwawa. You can be a source of strength, or a source of added stress in the time he needs it least.
I don't really know how to start. I know that I will not be a perfect
husband. As much as I want to be a Knight in shining armor, I know that my
armor has chinks in it, has some blood from my wounds, has some rust. But
that's not who I want to be, especially in your eyes. I want, no I need,
in a deep, spiritual way, to see you look me in the eye. I recently
watched the new Russell Crowe Robin Hood movie. That's who I want
to be, the hero that is willing to fight when no one else will, no matter the
consequences. I want to be able to earn your love through my action and
honor.
I also know that isn't realistic. I will screw up, probably
badly. I will not pay enough attention to you and your needs, a hazard of
ministry. Moreover, I, through selfish action and pride, I will hurt
you. I know in those times, you won't want to look at me like your
hero. It reminds me of a popular song from my teen years. "If I grow
crazy then will you still call me Superman?" Know that in those times, I
will need you more than ever. I won't need you to nag me back into
submission. I will need you to remind me that I am your Knight, that you
still love me, that I am a good man, even when I don't feel any of that.
Because if you can make me believe that you believe that, then maybe I can
believe it too. I will fight to become what you see in me, for good or for
bad.
As I have said on the profile, I am a romantic at heart. Maybe this sounds like the romantic ramblings of a lonely man who has little experience in the way things really operate. Maybe. But I think deep down, this is the desire of how all men wished their relationships worked. So ladies, remember that he needs a partner, not a yapping chiwawa. You can be a source of strength, or a source of added stress in the time he needs it least.
Middle Eastern protests
Ladies and gentlemen, this thing is getting serious. It started with Egypt protests. Now, it has spread across the middle east. Now Libya and several other countrise have turned lose the military, opening fire on civilians. Gunboats firing on women and children. Might makes right.
Makes you glad to live in a country that doesn't do that right? Sure, we aren't as free as we used to be. But the army hasn't been sent in against the Tea Party, Immigration, Pro-Union protests, (even when they turn moderately violent). Qaddafi is an evil dictator, the like this world has seen, well, a lot. Hussien, Il, Stalin, Hitler, all are famous for such actions, but this true in much of Africa and the Middle East, even central and South America, Cuba, Haiti, and the list goes on. Mostly, it doesn't make the news. Like Uganda and the Congo.
Once again I must say, I'm glad that my citizenship is not of this world, and my loyalty is to no president, prime minister, or dictator, but only the King of kings.
Makes you glad to live in a country that doesn't do that right? Sure, we aren't as free as we used to be. But the army hasn't been sent in against the Tea Party, Immigration, Pro-Union protests, (even when they turn moderately violent). Qaddafi is an evil dictator, the like this world has seen, well, a lot. Hussien, Il, Stalin, Hitler, all are famous for such actions, but this true in much of Africa and the Middle East, even central and South America, Cuba, Haiti, and the list goes on. Mostly, it doesn't make the news. Like Uganda and the Congo.
Once again I must say, I'm glad that my citizenship is not of this world, and my loyalty is to no president, prime minister, or dictator, but only the King of kings.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Super Bowl XLV synopsis
Well, let's start with the news. Jerry Jones sold more tickets than he had seats. Good job Jerry. He did refund 3 times the cost, but as one guy said, that didn't even cover the travel expenses. Good job Jerry. Instead, these people stood outside the stadium and watched it on a big TV. That's just as good as being there, right?
This was followed up by Christina Augulera (sp?) messing up the words to our national song, traditionally sung before all major sporting event. She repeated one part and skipped another. Most people are saying she should be exiled to Canada. That works for me, even before she sung it.
Then there was commercials. I like the Doritos commercials (especially the one with the pug), the Ozzi/Bieber one, and the Vader commercial. Eminem did two commercials, the first one called "This is why I don't do commercials." LAME. HomeAway had a hilarious commerical with a hotel room simulator and baby being launched in a glass wall. We cheered, but people said this encouraged violence against children. I agree with their executive who said, "Are you saying the Betty White commercials led to an increase of old women being tackled in parks?"
Oh yeah, and there was a football game. Go Packers! I am so sick of Steelers fans in my area shooting their mouths off. So I was rooting for the Packers. Sorry Jim, I just was. Anyway, the Packers Defense forced 3 turnovers, which was the main impact of this game. Other than that, and the Steelers handily win this game. But Big Ben threw 2 TDs. I just have to say that every time I hear Big Ben, I think of the old SNL Celebrity Jeopardy joke. "I'll take 'the rapists' for 100." "That's therapsists." Aaron Rodgers had fun, as he always looks like he did. There were three GB recievers that could have gotten MVP, one in particular had he not dropped two major passes that hit him in the chest. So instead they had a QB as MVP. I loved that their team made him a chapionship belt in honor of his signature celebration. It is also sad that Driver and Woodson, two of the team's leaders, went out injured, but that's life sometimes.
This was followed up by Christina Augulera (sp?) messing up the words to our national song, traditionally sung before all major sporting event. She repeated one part and skipped another. Most people are saying she should be exiled to Canada. That works for me, even before she sung it.
Then there was commercials. I like the Doritos commercials (especially the one with the pug), the Ozzi/Bieber one, and the Vader commercial. Eminem did two commercials, the first one called "This is why I don't do commercials." LAME. HomeAway had a hilarious commerical with a hotel room simulator and baby being launched in a glass wall. We cheered, but people said this encouraged violence against children. I agree with their executive who said, "Are you saying the Betty White commercials led to an increase of old women being tackled in parks?"
Oh yeah, and there was a football game. Go Packers! I am so sick of Steelers fans in my area shooting their mouths off. So I was rooting for the Packers. Sorry Jim, I just was. Anyway, the Packers Defense forced 3 turnovers, which was the main impact of this game. Other than that, and the Steelers handily win this game. But Big Ben threw 2 TDs. I just have to say that every time I hear Big Ben, I think of the old SNL Celebrity Jeopardy joke. "I'll take 'the rapists' for 100." "That's therapsists." Aaron Rodgers had fun, as he always looks like he did. There were three GB recievers that could have gotten MVP, one in particular had he not dropped two major passes that hit him in the chest. So instead they had a QB as MVP. I loved that their team made him a chapionship belt in honor of his signature celebration. It is also sad that Driver and Woodson, two of the team's leaders, went out injured, but that's life sometimes.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Two weeks and the worst day
The last two weeks have been busy. And awful. Jan 25th, 2011 marked the worst day of my life. It started out as a normal day, and I intended to watch the State of the Union and write on that. I was trying to get stuff done at work. That morning, we had a portable shed delivered at my church. My dad took me to deliver buildings like these, only bigger, since I was a kid. It is an easier job with a couple of people that know what they are doing. Anyway, they had a trailer designed for these buildings. It had a remote controlled axle that dropped down allowing the trailer to drive itself side to side. It was too small to haul Dad's buildings, but it was interesting. My plan was to call Dad that evening to tell him about it, because I thought he'd get a kick out of it.
Imagine my surprise when at around 4:10 my cell phone rang and my caller ID read "Mom." My thought was "Mom probably wants to tell me about work. I'll talk to her and have her hand the phone to dad." Instead, Mom told me that my dad was dead. At first I thought she was saying the dog was dead. They have three, so I was confused. When I finally understood, I told her that that could not be right. It could not be. Both his parents are living, and his brother died a year and a week before. Denial is a very real thing in that situation.
Next thing I know, I was on my hands and knees sobbing. I don't really remember walking out of my office into the auditorium, but that's where I fell, weeping. I don't do emotion well, but sadness, sorrow, fear, and helplessness come to mind. It is all so overwhelming.
I was on the phone with Mom for a while. She had walked in and found him. He was already cold. My dad was such a people person, that after I had a day to process, I finally cried and said "It wasn't right that he died alone." Anyway, I called Kraig, who lives down the street from me to come pick me up because I couldn't drive. Somewhere in there I packed stuff I would need from my office. I asked Kraig to take me home so I could pack. By this point, I couldn't see, I was hyperventilating, I was shaking, and I could barely stand upright.
Kraig did not take me home. He took me to his house, just down the street. I think it was his wife's idea. They gave me water, and calmed me down so I could breathe. It was as this point that I called Grandma to tell her. She kept saying "Is he dead?" "Yes Grandma, he is." "No..." This conversation kept repeating. She finally said, "I've lost two of my boys, you know." "I know, Grandma." No parent should ever have to bury a child, let alone two. Then Larry, the Sr. Minister of my church, came over and prayed with me. He stayed for a while, and other people came over. My phone kept ringing. Minister's from Mom and Dad's church, Dad's brothers, friends who found out. I also handed Kraig my debit card, and he got me a flight out. We printed out the boarding pass and he dropped me off at my place to pack. Then I called Mom, and started returning voicemails.
I attended the funeral of the father of my friend John last year. I knew he was close to his dad too, so I asked him, "How do I get through?" We talked for hours. He talked to me, warned me of things. One was that you swing back and forth between waves of emotion and numbness. The more this happens, the longer the numb spells go. I then got a shower, and realized my devotional for that morning was 2 Cor. 5. "To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord."
This passage always filled me with longing. Longing to be in the very presence of Jesus. Dad beat me to it. This set me crying again. It's one thing to believe in life after death. It is another to have experienced the power and love, the presence of the Almighty God. Belief isn't a strong enough word, neither is faith. I KNOW it. Because I trust wholly this God whom I've met, who I've talked with, who leads me daily. Now I long to be with my Father and my dad, who are in heaven.
That night, in the four hours that I attempted to sleep, I did go in and out of awareness, but didn't get any sleep. At 4:00AM, I got up to see it snowing, and got ready. An hour later, I left on a three hour trip on slick roads to the airport. My Senior Minister drove me, because he had 4 wheel drive and no one trusted me to drive, including me. When I checked in for my flight, everything was on time. From the time it took me to walk from security to Gate 4, everything was delayed.
I sat there talking to a flight attendant. No big deal. 1 hour delay. I couldn't concentrate to read, so I sat there watching CNN. Then they announced another delay, another 30 minutes. I pretty much freaked out. I started pacing like a caged animal. I talked on the phone until the battery died. Then I got an update on the plane; the flight attendant told me they were waiting on the plane to arrive from Rhode Island. I finally managed to find an outlet that worked, on the side of the moving sidewalk. I then stood next to it, stamping my feet and talking on the phone. I tried calling Mom with an update at one point. I couldn't get her, and tried calling the house line. I got the machine with my dad's recording on it, and about lost it. I finally talked to my sister, whom up to this point I was afraid I could not handle talking to. Three hours later, the plane finally took off, my sanity hanging by a thread.
On the two hour plane ride, I alternated between staring at the back of the seat in front of me, and my watch. I ate my peanuts, knowing I needed salt. When I landed, people from my parents church were there to get me: Todd Murphy, my high school youth minister and close friend of my father, Doc and Mary Jones, whom have been friends of my parents my whole life, and Todd's daughter Amy, whom my dad always said "Her name is Anthony Micheal Young. We call her AMY for short." I hugged each of them, and we talked on the car ride to the funeral home.
Mom, my sister, and her husband were already there. That was the first we saw each other. I grabbed Mom with one arm and Rebecca with the other and we wept. Damon rubbed my back, comforting us as best he could. They had already chosen a casket (there are less options for a man of Dad's large size.) They chose a grey casket and red flowers, representing the Scarlett and Gray of Dad's favorite team, the Ohio State University Buckeyes. Randy, their senior minister was there. He said "We need to plan a service. I asked them and they would only say that it was your decision." We talked it out. Dad said he wanted his funeral to be funny, and we had some ideas. He asked me about the internment, and I said I could not think about that right now.
There were many people at the house during that evening. Many phone calls and voicemails. Many facebook messages. We had supper. We cried. A lot. Somehow I found myself going through Dad's desk, looking for answers. I told Damon that and cried more. We also decided to make a slideshow of pictures for the viewing. Their youth minister, Matt, put it together, but we flipped through photo albums to find them. Finally, Damon came and grabbed me and basically shoved me into my old room to make me get some sleep. I was awake for 39 hours straight. My eyes had been burning for more than 24 hours from the tears. I have never seen dark circles like I saw in the mirror. It looked fake, or like I had a broken nose. Needless to say, I collapsed into bed that night. That was the longest and worst day of my life.
The next day was the viewing. We arrived at the church and started hugging people in the lobby. Then Randy came out and opened the door. I sat down on the couch out there and started to cry. "I don't want to go in." Mom said, "You have to." She got under one arm and we started to cry hard. Damon got under the other and half-carried me in there. I have no idea if he was crying. What I do know is I could not have made it that couple of days without him. I also know I dreading going in there, because when I saw the body I had to accept this was real.
I sat on the front row and unleashed everything I was feeling. Specifically, that my safety net had been cut. Dad has always been there for me, and now he isn't. But Damon whispered in my ear that I would be ok and he would be there for me. So did Todd and Randy. I'm going to need them. Because we humans need each other. I leaned heavily on Dad. He helped me write sermons. I talked to him about girls (and the lack thereof). I talked to him about frustrations in ministry and what to do about it. Now my life will never be the same.
I learned a lot of things that will be the subject of many years of blog posts, but for now I will leave you with one. It is great when the church is the church. There is nothing better. People flocked to my parents house to help Mom. People brought so much food (and still are bringing it) that we had to throw it away. They came out just to spend time with us and laugh and comfort us. There were so many, who did so many things we lost count. There is nothing better than the church actually being the church.
Imagine my surprise when at around 4:10 my cell phone rang and my caller ID read "Mom." My thought was "Mom probably wants to tell me about work. I'll talk to her and have her hand the phone to dad." Instead, Mom told me that my dad was dead. At first I thought she was saying the dog was dead. They have three, so I was confused. When I finally understood, I told her that that could not be right. It could not be. Both his parents are living, and his brother died a year and a week before. Denial is a very real thing in that situation.
Next thing I know, I was on my hands and knees sobbing. I don't really remember walking out of my office into the auditorium, but that's where I fell, weeping. I don't do emotion well, but sadness, sorrow, fear, and helplessness come to mind. It is all so overwhelming.
I was on the phone with Mom for a while. She had walked in and found him. He was already cold. My dad was such a people person, that after I had a day to process, I finally cried and said "It wasn't right that he died alone." Anyway, I called Kraig, who lives down the street from me to come pick me up because I couldn't drive. Somewhere in there I packed stuff I would need from my office. I asked Kraig to take me home so I could pack. By this point, I couldn't see, I was hyperventilating, I was shaking, and I could barely stand upright.
Kraig did not take me home. He took me to his house, just down the street. I think it was his wife's idea. They gave me water, and calmed me down so I could breathe. It was as this point that I called Grandma to tell her. She kept saying "Is he dead?" "Yes Grandma, he is." "No..." This conversation kept repeating. She finally said, "I've lost two of my boys, you know." "I know, Grandma." No parent should ever have to bury a child, let alone two. Then Larry, the Sr. Minister of my church, came over and prayed with me. He stayed for a while, and other people came over. My phone kept ringing. Minister's from Mom and Dad's church, Dad's brothers, friends who found out. I also handed Kraig my debit card, and he got me a flight out. We printed out the boarding pass and he dropped me off at my place to pack. Then I called Mom, and started returning voicemails.
I attended the funeral of the father of my friend John last year. I knew he was close to his dad too, so I asked him, "How do I get through?" We talked for hours. He talked to me, warned me of things. One was that you swing back and forth between waves of emotion and numbness. The more this happens, the longer the numb spells go. I then got a shower, and realized my devotional for that morning was 2 Cor. 5. "To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord."
This passage always filled me with longing. Longing to be in the very presence of Jesus. Dad beat me to it. This set me crying again. It's one thing to believe in life after death. It is another to have experienced the power and love, the presence of the Almighty God. Belief isn't a strong enough word, neither is faith. I KNOW it. Because I trust wholly this God whom I've met, who I've talked with, who leads me daily. Now I long to be with my Father and my dad, who are in heaven.
That night, in the four hours that I attempted to sleep, I did go in and out of awareness, but didn't get any sleep. At 4:00AM, I got up to see it snowing, and got ready. An hour later, I left on a three hour trip on slick roads to the airport. My Senior Minister drove me, because he had 4 wheel drive and no one trusted me to drive, including me. When I checked in for my flight, everything was on time. From the time it took me to walk from security to Gate 4, everything was delayed.
I sat there talking to a flight attendant. No big deal. 1 hour delay. I couldn't concentrate to read, so I sat there watching CNN. Then they announced another delay, another 30 minutes. I pretty much freaked out. I started pacing like a caged animal. I talked on the phone until the battery died. Then I got an update on the plane; the flight attendant told me they were waiting on the plane to arrive from Rhode Island. I finally managed to find an outlet that worked, on the side of the moving sidewalk. I then stood next to it, stamping my feet and talking on the phone. I tried calling Mom with an update at one point. I couldn't get her, and tried calling the house line. I got the machine with my dad's recording on it, and about lost it. I finally talked to my sister, whom up to this point I was afraid I could not handle talking to. Three hours later, the plane finally took off, my sanity hanging by a thread.
On the two hour plane ride, I alternated between staring at the back of the seat in front of me, and my watch. I ate my peanuts, knowing I needed salt. When I landed, people from my parents church were there to get me: Todd Murphy, my high school youth minister and close friend of my father, Doc and Mary Jones, whom have been friends of my parents my whole life, and Todd's daughter Amy, whom my dad always said "Her name is Anthony Micheal Young. We call her AMY for short." I hugged each of them, and we talked on the car ride to the funeral home.
Mom, my sister, and her husband were already there. That was the first we saw each other. I grabbed Mom with one arm and Rebecca with the other and we wept. Damon rubbed my back, comforting us as best he could. They had already chosen a casket (there are less options for a man of Dad's large size.) They chose a grey casket and red flowers, representing the Scarlett and Gray of Dad's favorite team, the Ohio State University Buckeyes. Randy, their senior minister was there. He said "We need to plan a service. I asked them and they would only say that it was your decision." We talked it out. Dad said he wanted his funeral to be funny, and we had some ideas. He asked me about the internment, and I said I could not think about that right now.
There were many people at the house during that evening. Many phone calls and voicemails. Many facebook messages. We had supper. We cried. A lot. Somehow I found myself going through Dad's desk, looking for answers. I told Damon that and cried more. We also decided to make a slideshow of pictures for the viewing. Their youth minister, Matt, put it together, but we flipped through photo albums to find them. Finally, Damon came and grabbed me and basically shoved me into my old room to make me get some sleep. I was awake for 39 hours straight. My eyes had been burning for more than 24 hours from the tears. I have never seen dark circles like I saw in the mirror. It looked fake, or like I had a broken nose. Needless to say, I collapsed into bed that night. That was the longest and worst day of my life.
The next day was the viewing. We arrived at the church and started hugging people in the lobby. Then Randy came out and opened the door. I sat down on the couch out there and started to cry. "I don't want to go in." Mom said, "You have to." She got under one arm and we started to cry hard. Damon got under the other and half-carried me in there. I have no idea if he was crying. What I do know is I could not have made it that couple of days without him. I also know I dreading going in there, because when I saw the body I had to accept this was real.
I sat on the front row and unleashed everything I was feeling. Specifically, that my safety net had been cut. Dad has always been there for me, and now he isn't. But Damon whispered in my ear that I would be ok and he would be there for me. So did Todd and Randy. I'm going to need them. Because we humans need each other. I leaned heavily on Dad. He helped me write sermons. I talked to him about girls (and the lack thereof). I talked to him about frustrations in ministry and what to do about it. Now my life will never be the same.
I learned a lot of things that will be the subject of many years of blog posts, but for now I will leave you with one. It is great when the church is the church. There is nothing better. People flocked to my parents house to help Mom. People brought so much food (and still are bringing it) that we had to throw it away. They came out just to spend time with us and laugh and comfort us. There were so many, who did so many things we lost count. There is nothing better than the church actually being the church.
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