Busy, Busy, Busy...

I just realized it has been two weeks since I last posted. The funny thing is that the last thing I wrote about was how I almost burned down the house. Since then, I've received a ton of emails asking me if everything is OK and not smoldering in the ashes. Good news is, me and the family are doing fine and I haven't burned down the house... or even come close to it...yet.

I've been really swamped lately at work and I've been busy with my new running schedule that I have enacted. I try to run every other day and I usually spend about an hour "out and about". I've written about my new fitness obsession on my my other blog and I really have no excuse for not writing here.

This weekend, soccer season comes to a close and we start looking forward to a couple of vacations we have planned for this summer. Also, I've been filling my calender with upcoming golf tournaments. Can't wait to get out and swing the sticks. This summer should be a great one!!!

Two Cooking Failures in Two Weeks...

I used to like to cook,

I fancied myself a master,

But now I could write a book,

About my own kitchen disasters...

They say the reason country music is so popular is because it's about real life experiences. That said, the above lines are the opening stanza of a song I am penning about my own real life experiences with cooking and the failures I've had.

I almost burned down the house...

We had to fumigate for five days...

Two weeks ago, I multi-tasked my cooking. While Marci was gone, I had two things going at one time. I was grilling Kabobs on the grill and frying vegetables on the stove. The problem occurred when the grease got hot enough to ignite and a flame ensued on the stove. The flame burned a plastic handle on the spatula I was using and made a pretty good deal of smoke.

I put out the fire, but the house was now full of an acrid smoke that set off not only the inside smoke alarms, but also the alarm tied to our security system. This alarm not only calls some office in New Jersey that monitors our house, but it also announced my conundrum to the entire neighborhood with a loud siren in the attic. I could feel a few sets of eyes watching me as I opened all the windows and doors, and turned the fans on full blast in order to rid the house of the smoke. It probably looked like a scene from Fast Times at Ridgemont High when the van pulls up and all the smoke pours out.

Since we have an infant, we had to leave and stay at my mother-in-law's until the house was given the OK from my wife. That took five days...

Then I cooked some peppers,

And we felt like we'd been maced.

Last night I decided to fix up something different for dinner. Will and I got home from soccer practice at 7PM so as you can imagine, I was starving. For some reason, I've had this desire for red beans and rice, so that was what I would fix. I got the water boiling, dumped in the rice and beans and heated up a skillet to sear the vegetables. But not just any vegetables... I found the best looking Jalapeno Peppers at Kroger yesterday and decided to fry them up and add them to my concotion.

I got the butter in the skillet hot, threw in the sliced up peppers and started stirring. It took about 10 seconds before I got my first whiff of the peppers. I guess the combination of the hot skillet and the wet peppers instantly created this evil steam cloud that made my eyes burn, and after breathing it, I started to cough. Then, I heard Marci coughing in the other room. Within two minutes, all of us had burning eyes, throats, and a cough. With my eyes squinting I grabbed the skillet, ran outside and threw the peppers over the hill.

When I came back in, it didn't take a genius to realize that we couldn't stay here and breath the acid fog I had created. So I turned the stove off and we quickly gathered up what we would need to spend the night away from home.

So, I'm a failure at cooking twice now. In the past two weeks, my failures in the kitchen have resulted in 6 nights away from our house, inflamed mucus membranes, a burned spatula, a false alarm to the local fire department, and a son that is terrified whenever he sees his Dad pull a skillet out of the cupbord. It's humbling to admit that I am a failure in the kitchen. From now on, we'll leave the cooking to th experts at McDonalds, Wendys, and Taco Bell...

Grinning from Ear to Ear...

I woke up to something beautiful on Sunday morning. It was early... real early... bottle time to be exact. But, it was worth it.

After I fed Rylan his morning breakfast bottle, I placed him in his little glider seat. I noticed he was staring at me so I started to talk to him. Then, he started to really coo and smile. So I grabbed the camera and took about 57 pictures of it. One of which is shown at the right. Good news is, Rylan is doing great! Thanks for all of your prayers and kind words. As you can see from the picture, they worked and God is good!

A little while later, Will wandered into the room and started playing Webkinz on the laptop. I took this opportunity to teach him how to babysit his brother. And as you can see, Rylan was pretty content watching big bro' type away. God has been so good to Marci and I.

Thank you Lord for allowing me and giving me the honor to live this life!!!

Getting Fit...

I used to be in good physical shape. Actually, I used to be in great shape and could run and not get tired. But, then I got out of the Army (1999) and it all went to pot. So, 9 years later, I am embarking on a journey of mythical proportions as I seek to recapture the fitness of my youth... well, when I was younger.

I was inspired by my friend Will that is also seeking to regain his military form. He started training and even started a blog to chart his ups, downs, and HOOAHS! over at Help Will Train. Because of him, I am also charting my journey to fitness at a new blog over at:

Gotta' Get Fit to Keep Coming Alive

So, I'm off and running! But I warn you, this new blog will be really, really, really, really boring...

Death is Precious...

Today, I attended my friend Grant's funeral. I still can't believe that he is gone... 45 years old, 4 year old son, beautiful wife of 18 years, and the world by the coat tails... It doesn't make since why, but I know where he is and that when God called him home Sunday, it was his time to go. Everyone is missing him, but heaven is a whole lot richer today because of his presence.

What struck me right between the eyes was the message the Pastor carried from God and gave to us today. He lingered on the verse that simply says:

"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints" --Psalm 116:15

Sure, I've heard this verse before, but I don't think I have ever really thought it through, or ruminated over it. Actually, I don't think I'm alone when I say that I've never thought about death being "Precious". I've always associated death with bad things such as loss, pain, suffering, etc... but never precious. That is, until God spoke to me through this preacher today.

When we see death, we see a person that leaves us forever. There is no more interaction with them. No kisses, hugs, handshakes, conversations, or any other thing that we can call person to person sharing. All that our brain can see is the fact that the person is gone and we will never see them again. As Christians, we know that we will see them again (if they were a Christian), but our own petty little psyche is hurt and missing them. I guess we are selfish that way. Anyway, that's how we earthly humans see it.

God on the other hand, looks at the death of one of his children as precious, because of His holiness. You see, when we die, we shed our dirty, stinking earthly body, and our pure spirit leaves it behind to be carted off and buried. Since God is Holy and He can't stand sin, He is overjoyed when our spirit leaves the filthy bag of bones and flesh that it once lived in, and goes to be with Him. The only way that I can even fathom how God may feel is that when a child of His dies, He feels much like a new parent that has just witnessed the birth of their child. Our spirit has been given a new realm of existence, and all new level of holiness that is pleasing to God. We've finished the race and been rewarded with a new holiness with our creator.

Today, I'm missing my friend. But I know that I will see him again one day. I also know that he would not come back for anything in the world. His soul is in communion with God and all of those that have gone on before. There is no more pain or suffering. So long my friend until I see you again one day...

Losing a Friend...

Early Sunday morning I got a call from a buddy of mine. Sadly, I missed his call because I didn't hear my cellphone ringing. When I saw that a call had come in, I picked up the voicemail and was kind of bewildered as to why he called me so early on a Sunday. But when I heard his voice, I could tell something was up by his tone...

"They found Grant Johnson dead this morning... We don't know what happened to him but he told his wife he felt bad and she went to get him something to drink. When she returned, she found him unresponsive. Call me..."

Within about five seconds, I experienced shock, horror, sadness, sorrow, and about ten different memories of the friend that Grant was to me. When I told Marci, I could see it on her face that she was experiencing the same feelings. All that we could say was simply, "Why?".

I met Grant last Spring when I led the men's group at his Church through a study of my book. We instantly hit it off and became friends. We both had boys that were about the same age and both were interested in soccer. One of the things that I admired to the utmost about him was the fact that he and his wife had adopted their son Carson from Central America, brought him home, and become his mom and dad. I got to coach Carson in soccer and Grant helped me out. He was a great guy...

So today, I'm still asking a plethora of "Whys?". Why did he have to go so soon? Why did he have to leave this wife and little boy? Why him? Why? Why? Why? Sure, I've been through this before, but I still don't have the answer. I don't understand God's ways, but I do know that His are much higher and mysterious than any human's could ever be. It just hurts...

In a couple of days, I'll say my goodbyes to Grant. I know that he wouldn't come back from heaven for anything, even though that is what we want. His memory will live on in his blog though. It's over at GIVE ME BOLDNESS.

Inheritance...

SABLE, THREE WOLVES' HEADS, ERASED, ARGENT.
ON A CHIEF OR, LION PASSANT OF THE FIRST.
CREST: A PEGASUS COURANT, SABLE, DUCALLY GORGED

If you know me, you know that I have an affinity for English and early American history. I guess this interest grew from my childhood when my Dad researched our family tree. What he found was that our tree does fork.. several times to be exact! But seriously, he traced the Prater family blood line from me, all the way back to the time of the Norman Conquest of England (circa 1066).

What my Dad found is fascinating. His discoveries indicate that my ancestor (Grandfather) came to England with William the Conqueror and was one of his subjects, most likely a knight. He was a Norman that had descended from a group of Vikings that settled in the Norman peninsula in 911. After William conquered England in 1072, he gave my Grandfather a large amount of land in western England where my ancestors lived and prospered for many generations.

So back to the Prater Coat of Arms...

A coat of arms is also known as a family crest. Crests were used at one time to signify the person or family that carried them. What's even more interesting is that these crests also signify where the family came from and accomplished. For example, the wolves heads on the bottom of the Prater Coat of Arms signify that one of my Grandmothers was a direct descendant of the Yscitheor Prince of Powys because the black (sable) field and the three wolves heads are his symbol. SO, that's my claim to Welsh Royalty.

BUT, the greatest claim is the fact that my coat of arms contains a lion. But not just any lion... This lion is the same style as signified in the Royalty of England. The "Lion Passant" means that it is simply walking and it was the symbol of William the Conqueror that had to give my Grandfather permission to use it. What's neat is the fact that this Lion appears so often in todays world because three lions in the symbol of England. SO, that's my claim to English royalty.

And, to cap it all off, there's a really cool knight's helmet and a winged Pegasus wearing a crown on top of the shield. The Praters must have really been something in Middle Ages England.

But what about your spiritual ancestory? If you think about it, all of us have a spiritual crest that is written on our heart showing where we've been and what we've inherited from our spiritual forefathers. Each is unique and each one tells our story as written by the author of our faith. And what's really cool is the fact that all Christians are royalty because we are a child of the King! What a pedigree!!!

So, I have earthly royal blood from Welsh and English/Norman stock running through my veins. Maybe I should give Princes Harry and William a call sometime...

Nah, what's more important is the fact that I have spiritual royalty from God. He is above all kings and kingdoms on earth, and his inheritance is one that cannot be matched in worldly things.

Feeling Words...

"I wish I could just go somewhere and cry."

Marci said this to me just after we crossed over the Ohio River, leaving Cincinnati behind. It's not that we had a bad experience, but rather they were tears of joy because of the AWESOME news we had received.

On Monday, we loaded Rylan up in our truck and headed for Cincinnati Children's Hospital. This appointment had been looming on the horizon for a month, and I have to say, we were dreading it. After all that we have been through with our little miracle baby, we were scared that we would take him up there and would be told he was sick, needed surgery, or any other number of things that we could imagine. But we went...

The first thing I noticed as we walked through the facility was that it was unlike any hospital I've ever been in. First of all, there were kids everywhere and in all different states of health. I saw bald headed kids, kids with masks, kids with IV's, and kids with no outward appearance of any medical treatment or sickness. As I carried our baby through the hospital, my own level of anxiety began to rise. I was scared...

The Doctor we went to see is known as the "guru" of Ear, Nose, and Throat Pediatric Surgeons. Dr. Robin Cotton is his name and he has been at the hospital for over 35 years and has done everything from airway reconstruction to cleft pallet repairs. His list of Medical Boards he is a member of is substantial, and he is world renknowned as the best of the best for kids with breathing problems.

When he walked into our room, he was a pleasant enough guy and he examined Rylan very carefully. He told us he wanted to do a scope and see what was going on. Obviously, the word "SCOPE" hit our panic button because that is what caused Rylan's lungs to collapse in the first place. We asked if there was a chance of this happening again, and he told us absolutely not because he would be going up through the nose and only looking at the top of the trachea. I think he was a bit confused as to why Rylan was scoped to begin with...

As I held Rylan, he inserted the scope into Rylan's nose and began looking around. Obviously, Rylan threw a fit and turned as red as molten steel. While I watched the doctor look through the scope, I'll never forget him saying,

"He's got Laryngeal Malasia but only a mild case"

Within 3 minutes, the scope was done and the Doctor had told us this great news. He sent us for Xrays and then reviewed them with us. Dr. Cotton told us the Xrays were normal and that Rylan would grow out of the malasia within a year, and that he didn't need to see him again, EVER!!!!!

As you can imagine, we were all relieved/happy/walking on air. We had just gone from scared at 1:30 to driving home on air at 3:15!!! Which leads me up to the title of this post:

When Marci told me she wished she could go somewhere and just cry, what she was saying was that she felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. We had been told by others that Rylan was OK and even some of the Doctors we know have told us the same thing. But it wasn't until we heard it from a true expert in Pediatric Airways that we actually FELT it.

There is a huge difference in hearing words, and feeling them...

Especially when it comes to God.

Getting God...

I love to read, but I read really, really, really slow. Sometimes I feel as though I can write a whole lot quicker than I read. I don't think it's because the cogs in my brain turn at a lousy rate. It's simply that I like to read every word so that I can take in what the writer is saying, and have ample food for thought to digest later. Well, this morning I'm digesting heavily on something I read in the book 'Amazing Grace' last night.

'Amazing Grace' is the story of an Englishman named William Wilberforce. It was turned into a major motion picture and was released in February 2007 (I need to go to Walmart and buy it). If you haven't heard of Wilberforce, you have really missed out on a remarkable person and man of God. He was the one single person on earth that God used to take a stand against the slave trade and lead a campaign against it. But what makes it interesting is that he completely changed the minds of everyone for a practice that had been around since earliest of times. Up until his time (late 1700's), slavery was just something that happened and slaves were no more important that any other piece of property one could own. It was actually viewed as vital to the economy of not only England, which was the greatest colonial power in the world, but also to every nation on the planet

Wilberforce realized that slavery was quite simply put, wrong. And, he devoted his entire life to making everyone else realize it too. He took a stand for what was the right thing to do and eventually he fought his way through the toughest of MP's (Members of Parliament) to see that slavery and the trade of slaves be outlawed throughout the British empire. This is one of, if not, most monumental changes that has taken place in the last 400 years.

As you can imagine the tentacles of slavery caused the fallout to be enormous. Slave trade was outlawed in the Empire, so all countries (including our own) found it tougher to get slaves. And, it wasn't until our nation's Civil War that slavery was once and for all put to bed under the leadership of Abe Lincoln. Actually, Abe Lincoln considered Wilberforce one of his idols.

The thing that jumps out at me is that Wilberforce didn't go on his crusade against slavery until after his conversion. Like many of us, he had a Christian upbringing, went to church, played the part, and he was a good person... but not born again. It was not until he spent a few months in the summer of 1785, riding across Europe in a stage coach with the great theologian Isaac Milner that he "Got It". Here's the line I read last night that gives a peek into what he "Got":

"What madness is the course I am pursuing. I believe all the great truths of the Christian religion, but I am not acting as though I did. Should I die in this state I must go into a place of misery... Yet I may become religious. Has God not promised His Holy Spirit on them that ask Him?"

Obviously, he was under conviction that made him realize where he stood with God. And with the help of a great man of God like Milner, who never rammed Christianity down his throat, only discussed it, Wilberforce was changed. He went on to work out his salvation and make a complete 180 degree turn and start living for God rather than of his own desires. This was his Damascus Road conversion and also the day he took the job that God had written on his heart when He created him. On that day, he realized that all men are created equal and that slavery must be abolished. He worked tirelessly and had set back after set back but finally, he saw the vision God had cast before him come to fruition 1807 with the passage of the Slave Trade Act.

So, let me ask you this: Do you "Get God"? If anything, most of us simply go through the motions without asking God what He wants us to do, and do what we desire instead. William Wilberforce listened and allowed himself to be used and he changed the world.

Are you getting what He's telling you?

Or are you just spinning your wheels?

Are you a good person playing the part?

I'm listening God, speak...

TMI Post of the Year...

"I'm growing older but not up,
My metabolic rate is pleasantly stuck,
Let the winds of time blow over my head,
I'd rather die while I'm living,
than live while I'm dead"
--Jimmy Buffett

-It's not that I'm 36 years old...

-It's not because a friend of mine asked if it seems possible that we are coming up on 20 years out of High School...

-AND, It's not that the kid at the gas station calls me "Sir"...

This morning, I saw something that scared me. Actually, it put "THE FEAR OF GOD" in me and has caused me to reevaluate my mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical health status. And when I saw it, I began making a list of "I GOTTA's" such as:

I Gotta' loose weight, take vitamins, pray more, get that life insurance policy, make out a will.....

STOP! All of this over the fact that I noticed something poking out of my ear and waving at me like a passenger on a ship pulling out of port. Was it a mole? No... A Tumor? NO!!!

What I noticed this morning was that I have a couple of tiny little clear hairs sticking out of my right ear. These hairs are not the little hairs that are "Cute" like the ones around my infant son's ears. Not at all... The ones that I'm talking about are 2" long and snow white!

Should I be scared? Should I get an AARP membership? Should I wait until I look like this guy, even though I already feel like I do?

Well, I can already tell you that I am not going to try to set a record for the longest ear hair. From the looks of things, this guy would be pretty hard to beat. So I simply took the scissors and snipped them off one by one to get a better look at my new enemy. Upon closer examination, they are thin and probably no one would even notice them because of their color... But I did snip them, and I added them to the list of "Things to Do When Looking in the Mirror".

So there you go! This is my official TMI (To Much Information) Post for the year. However, it's made me realize that it's always a good time to reevaluate and take inventory of everything physical and spiritual, to make sure you're getting the care and exercise you need. I know that I need to do a whole lot more conditioning and I'm starting asap. I'm going to start a physical fitness routine that involves walking my dog a few miles each night. I'm going to incorporate spiritual fitness into it by using this time to walk and talk with God too.

AND, I'm buying one of those fancy little trimmers as well...

Tiny Little Prayers...

About every three months, our dog runs away from home. Coincidentally, every three months, the battery in his invisible fence collar runs dry. AND, every three months, I forget to change the battery. With these facts in hand, Napoleon the 70 pound Golden Retriever disappeared between 9-11:00 AM Saturday morn. This always adds extra stress to the Prater household because Will takes it very hard. He always cries and we always tell him default answer: "It'll be OK, we'll find him."

I began searching for Napoleon at 11:45 by driving slowly up and down each street in our neighborhood, scanning every porch, driveway, and fenced in area for any sign of him. I really hate looking for him because I always feel like people are looking at me as if I'm a burglar casing for my next plunder. Anyway, I always try to stop and ask people that I see out, if they've seen a big golden ball of energy rumbling around the neighborhood. Sadly, I struck out on Saturday... and then again on Sunday...

Last night before bed, Will started crying because he missed his "Doggy". I told him that if he wanted Napoleon to return, he needed to go in his room and say a little prayer that God will send him back to us. Through his tears, he said, "OK" and retired to his room. About thirty minutes later, he came back into the living room and told Marci and I that he had said a tiny little prayer for Napoleon. I told him that was great, but deep down, we both doubted that the dog would ever show up again.

This morning I called the local Pound to see if anyone had reported our dog to them, but as you can imagine, I struck out their too. Then, at 12:05, my phone rang. Marci was on the other end and told me how two girls had showed up at our door and asked if we were missing a Golden. They went on to tell her how they knew we had one because he barks at them every time they walk by and they thought they saw him about a block away from our house. I rushed home just after the girls had gone up the street and brought Napoleon home! It seems that our dog had spent the weekend with some neighbors that live about a block away.

As you can imagine, Will was ecstatic! And this was a perfect time to show him how God answers prayers. I took Will by the hands and asked him if he prayed for Napoleon. He told me that he had prayed that Napoleon would come home and he did. I then went on to say that God loves to answer prayers. Will was smiling from ear to ear and he simply said, "I Know!!!".

What a great lesson for Will that God answers prayers and that He answers them on His time. What a great lesson for Marci and I... Oh We of Little Faith!

Entitled to Nothing...

When I began this blog, I made a vow to myself that I would never discuss politics. Today, I break that vow, but I promise not to rant about any particular party and try to sway you one way or the other. Heck, by the end of this we may decide to form a new party altogether. So here we go...

I don't know about you, but my brain feels like it is being squeezed by the daily onslaught of rhetoric being spun by the potential presidential candidates. Its not that this is , its some new thing that I've just noticed. It's actually the usual for this time in the electoral cycle.

The problem I have that really makes my head hurt is that all of this political mumbo-jumbo makes me like all of the politicians really do think we are stupid, mindless people that are wandering through life carelessly. I also get the feeling that every candidate feels like they want to become our own personal savior that will step in and save the day by providing the vehicle that we can use for the Government to take care of us.

First things first, I have a savior and He is the ONLY one.

Second, I do not want my Government taking care of me, I can do it myself.

I doesn't matter if it's Obama, McCain, Clinton, or any of the others, every time I see them giving speeches on the TV, there numero uno topic is how they are going to solve all of our ills and fix things so that the Government can extend it's hand to all citizens and give them what they need. Everything that is currently being proposed such as increased aid to the poor, tax incentives to businesses, gasoline concessions, and of course universal health care all sound great, but doesn't anyone out there realize that all of them have one common denominator:

THEY ALL COST MONEY!!!

I don't know about you, but I am tired of all the spending that is going on already and is not working. And, I know that whatever "New" program that is implemented by whomever wins the election is going to steal more from the little box on my paycheck that feeds my family. There is already enough stolen and given away simply because of an entitlement attitude that has been bread into our culture through the redistribution of wealth that goes on everyday right in front of our eyes. So, if you think you are entitled to get something for nothing simply because you are an American, you are wrong and should be arrested for receiving stolen property. This stolen property is the money that I worked my tail-end off to provide for my family, it's not to be handed out to you!

So, I urge everyone to take a look at who's running and find out just what it is that each one of them wants to steal more of your money to spend on what they think are the magical cures for our country. Remember, these are the same people that put the lottery into action to save our schools... Just because they are running for President doesn't mean that they are smart enough to fix things. Anyone can throw money at a problem, even a monkey...

AND, from the recent onslaught of junk mail from a few organizations my wife and I belong to, it's obvious that we are supposed to vote for whomever they tell us too. Just keep in mind that just because a candidate is backed by a group that you side with, doesn't mean that they believe as you do. For example, if you are a member of the "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi Society" and they endorse a particular person, you should do yourself a favor and see if the "Save Nagaina the Cobra Foundation" endorses them as well. I've learned through experience that endorsements have more to do with donations than with core beliefs and values.

And one last thing, stop telling people they are going to hell for voting for one particular party! This actually happened to my Aunt at a bible study of all things. My Aunt is a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat that firmly believes in her party, and it is her right (FREEDOM) to do so. You can imagine how she felt when a lady at the small group got onto the issue of politics and told everyone something to the effect of, "If you vote Democrat, you're going to hell because you support abortion, homosexuals...." and a whole other laundry list of items. This breaks my heart because it hurt my Aunt that has since dropped out of the small group. All I can say to this incident is

"...Lest Ye Be Judged..."

Finally, I just want some common since and not a bunch of promises of things the Government is going to give me, that I don't want in the first place. I just want my freedom. I want freedom to think for myself, take care of myself, and conduct myself in a manner that does not infringe on anyone else's rights to do the same. I want my sons to grow up free, with a promise of life, liberty, and happiness in which they will have to make decisions for themselves, and live with the consequences, both good and bad. I want them to prosper and I know that they will also have times of failure. But I don't want them expecting to get some Magical Government Bail-Out when things get tough. I don't want them to think they are entitled to anything!

I guess I've come to a junction in my life, or a three-way fork in the road where I have to decide on something. I've taken the left fork before when I came of voting age and registered as a Democrat simply because my Dad was one. After college, I took the right fork in the road and changed my registration to Republican after I found out I agreed more with the conservative policies. In the past 18 years of being voter eligible, I've seen the good and bad from both parties, and lately, it seems as though they've all gotten worse.

I recently filled out a new voter registration card and designated "Independent" as my party. I know that many would see this as a moderate, middle of the road kind of designation, but I do not. I see it like I'm sitting at the bus stop in the pouring rain, waiting for a bus load of friends going the same way that I am to stop and pick me up. I've already passed on the first two because they weren't going my way. Each bus driver told me I was entitled to a free ride, but I declined. But... Wait a minute... I see one coming from off in the distance... I just wish it would hurry up...

Two Jeeps at a Red Light...

I realize that I am very weird... I've known this all my life, and even been told this before, but today at approximately 8:11 AM, I admitted it to myself. During my morning commute, I was driving along and realized that there was a Jeep Wrangler like mine just ahead of me. Since we were in town, we ended up side by side at a red light. While I was sitting there, I looked over at the other Jeep and started taking inventory of the differences between it and mine.

Mine's red / His is green...

Mine has hard doors / His has the half doors...

Mine is a Sport Model / His is a Sahara...

Mine's cleaner / His is dirty...

Mine has running boards / His doesn't...

Mine's licensed in Kentucky / His is Ohio...

Mine's better!!! / His Stinks!!!

IT'S GO TIME!!!!!

The light turned green and I floored it and sped off like a top fuel funny car driver. All the way to work, I kept checking the rear view mirror to make sure he wasn't gaining on me because, Dag-Gonnit I was going to WIN!!!!

This is the part that made me realize I was weird. It was when God spoke to me and asked:

WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO WIN? AND, WHY ARE YOU SO DEAD-SET ON WINNING IT (Whatever "IT" is)?

My answer to God: "I Don't Know for sure... But, I think is has to do with the way YOU wired us men!"

As you can see, I like to blame this sort of behavior on my competitive nature. BUT, I'm starting to realize that there is more to it than that. I know that when God created man, he created him in His image. I know from the recent miracle of my son Rylan that God loves to come through. And, he created man to "Come Through" also and be the hero. This is hardwired into our nature and was written on our hearts (Women are competitive too so don't think I'm being sexist, this s just a post about guy's egos). But when does our competitive nature fuel our egos? Obviously, it does it anytime we size up our opponent and set out to defeat them just like I defeated this other Jeep driver this morning.

The problem is, our egos can grow, and GRow, and GROW until they are unbearable to everyone around us. When this happens, it shows up at red lights and I've seen it rear it's ugly head most often at sporting events. But whenever it does, we have to be ready to realize it and squash it before someone wants to squash us. Because that's the other thing that a strong ego does:

It arouses other strong egos and mobilizes them to go to war against each other

And when this happens, you end up with two grown men rolling around slapping and kicking each other like little kids. AND, the few times I've seen this, I've felt the worst for the men's children that have a front row seat to the action. Of which, they will NEVER forget and it will become a part of them.

So, thanks be to God for giving me a reality check of my ego this morning. I wonder if he talked to the guy in the other Jeep and told him something to the affect of:

"Just ignore that idiot egomanic in the red Jeep, I'll take care of Him later."

Five Crucial Meetings...

This morning, I realized that there are five very important meetings that I must attend if I plan on making through the day. Four I go to consistently and one that I neglect often. The sad thing is, the one I neglect is the one that is most vital to my existence and this morning, I finally realized it.

Every morning, I get up and go through the motions getting ready for another work day. More often then not, the first person I talk to is my wife and we normally just look at each other with blank expressions because neither of us are morning people. This is my first meeting. And even though it's not a perfect, made-for-TV kind of husband and wife exchange of pleasantries, it's OK. Marci and I are on the same wavelength... Imagine if I were to spring from the bed smiling, grab her hand, spin her around, shout "Good morning my darling", and plant a big fat kiss on her! I'm pretty sure she'd call the men in white coats to haul me away. So like I said, we understand each other's morning tendencies, and even though our first meeting would seem unfriendly to an outsider peeking in, it's not that way to us.

The second meeting I have is a new one! It's when I check in on our new baby boy Rylan. This is a fun one and it usually involves a big smile across my face, followed by a "Good morning big guy," and then a kiss on his little head. This is a meeting that I am looking forward to developing...

My third meeting is with Will. It either comes when I tell him it's time to get dressed for school. Or, it happens in the kitchen as I am leaving for work. This morning was one that I will cherish forever. He came into the kitchen while I was making coffee and asked me to explain the story of Paul Revere to him. I guess it had to do with the fact that he and I watched 'National Treasure' last night and he was intrigued by the signal lanterns hung in Old North Church. I spent about fifteen minutes talking with him, answering his questions, and loving on him all I could before I had to go out the door to my job. It was a great meeting...

My fourth meeting comes every morning at 9:00. This is our daily Operations Meeting at work which is comprised of all the Department Managers updating the CEO about what's up in our little realms, answering his questions, and communicating information to the other departments. Since I am over Safety and Environmental, I always kick off the meeting first. So, this is one meeting that I can never be late for, nor can I miss. It usually lasts about an hour and a half and then I retreat to my office to get moving on my projects that keep me busy for the rest of the day.

At the end of the day, I go home and we all eat dinner and debrief each other. We catch up on everything that happened today, and plan our future events. Then the day winds down and we get ready to do it all over again.

But wait a minute... that's only four meetings!

The fifth meeting is the one that I neglect the most. It's also the most important one of all. It's my daily meeting with God. Sadly, I seem to skip this meeting sometimes. I make it to all of the others, but I have trouble meeting with the God of the Universe even though He is the most flexible when it comes to scheduling. He's there whenever we call on Him, and if you think about it, He will drop everything to hear us and spend time with us.

I sometimes picture God in His throne room, with the angels and elders about in such a Holy scene. Then, a voice softly comes from just outside the throne room that says something like:

"Father..." or "Our most gracious heavenly Father..." or even simply "God..."

It's at that moment that God stops the heavenly host from their angelic duties and clears them out of the throne room because one of His children wants to talk to Him. It's pretty humbling to think that He will do that so that He can hear and focus solely on us.

So, my fifth meeting of the day, really needs to be my highest priority. This morning, I met with God in the shower and we talked... Well actually, I talked, begged, and praised Him for all He's done for us. I also apologized for neglecting Him and asked Him to forgive and strengthen me. I know I can do better because He is worth it! I also asked for His help in making me a little more of a morning person for the sake of my wife. Praying for another one of His miracles, even if this one seems a bit hopeless...

Unfair but Necessary...

I have always heard people say things like, "What a great testimony", and "Wow! Did she testify!"

When I was a kid, I thought that to testify, you had to stand up and shout about God, Jesus, and the Spirit until you were red-faced and pouring with sweat and gasping for breath. I wasn't raised in a Church where I had seen anything even remotely familiar to this type of thing happen. Rather, I grew up is a strict and linear Southern Baptist congregation. But, for some reason, I thought this was what testifying was.

Then, I matured and learned that your testimony is simply that:

IT'S YOURS

And, It's not about shouting and spitting like a Spirit-Filled preacher, hankie in hand to wipe away the residual fluids that keep bubbling up. Rather, testifying is simply telling your story.

It can be about anything from your salvation experience, to how God helped you make it through a tough time. But one thing is clear, it is a never ending story and you are the only one that was born to live it! So take a deep breath and realize that the God of the universe chose you to do what it is you will do in your lifetime for Him. That's why you are important, and even if you don't believe it, you matter. You matter to Him. If you didn't, He wouldn't have knit you together into the miracle that you are.

Marci and I were talking the other day about why things happen? For example, why did we have to go through what we did with Rylan? We whined around for a little while and really felt sorry for ourselves. We finally agreed that it was just not fair for us to suffer like that and that we got the shaft. AND, it sure as goodness didn't seem fair that our little baby had to suffer the way he did.

But if you were to get in a hot air balloon and go up to 10,000 feet and look down at the bigger picture of our story, it'd be easier to see that if we hadn't gone through what we did, we wouldn't have seen the miracles occur, witnessed the union of Saints praying for our baby, or seen God show up like He did. But most of all, had we not experienced what we did, we would not have the testimony that we can now share with the world about how God Came Through!

FAIR??? No, but this world and life in general are not fair.

Necessary??? You bet'cha....

Play the Game Boys, Your Game...

Just a quick note to say that both Mommy and Baby are doing great! Thanks for the continued prayers and the awesome emails I've received from so many of you. You mean the world to me and I appreciate your friendship!

The past week has been one of adjusting to a new baby. All you parents out there have gone through this self-training regime which includes learning feeding schedules, performing diaper checks/changes, and asking each other strange questions such as "Is he still breathing?" and my personal favorite, "Should we let him sleep or will he be up all night?" It's a strange time, but it's also a fun time...

Anyway, since I was off work all last week, Marci and I spent our time efforting through this list of baby stuff, along with watching a lot of basketball on TV. We watched about four different conference tournaments, saw our beloved Wildcats get sacked, and as you can imagine, we'd had our fill of basketball by Sunday. While searching the 177 channels for something else, we settled on the movie "The Legend of Bagger Vance". I had been wanting to watch it because it's about golf, but I soon became enthralled in the storyline because of it's spiritual undercurrent.

Matt Damon plays the part of an ex-golfing legend named Junuh that's lost his swing and pretty much gives up on everything in life. He has checked out from everything and everyone and turns his back on the world after a bad experience in WWI. Bagger literally materializes out of thin air and walks into Junuh's life one night. Long story short, Bagger guides and teaches Junuh how to get it all back. They go through ups and downs, highs and lows throughout and at the exact moment when Junuh decides he can't do it because he's not strong enough, Bagger tells him:

"Yes you can... but you ain't alone... I'm right here with ya... I've been here all along... Now play the game... Your game... The one that only you was meant to play... The one that was given to you when you come into this world... You ready?... Strike that ball Junuh don't hold nothin back give it everything... Now's the time... Let yourself remember... Remember YOUR swing... That's right Junuh, settle yourself... Let's go... Now is the time, Junuh..."

Parenting is hard.

Life is hard.

Being a child of God is hard.

We all face our share of trials and I've wanted to give up more than once and take the easy way out. When I look back on the times I've wanted to quit, I realize that those times were when I tried to do it on my own rather than with God. Just like Junuh was his own man, I could write another book about how pride has blinded me, and every other man on the earth. But then there's Bagger, calling to Junuh and letting him know that He's been with him since the day he was born, even if he didn't realize it. AND, there is no one else on earth that can do the job Junuh was picked (called) to do.

I don't know why things happen the way they do. But, after what Marci and I have faced lately, I realize that God's ways are higher than mine, and I can't comprehend them. I've also realized what suffering feels like. I've never hurt like I did the day Rylan died and was brought back by God as he guided the hands of the Doctors and nurses in the NICU. But I know that my pain that day was only a very small, pin point sized sample of the pain and suffering Christ endured for me.

Looking back on what I've refferred to as "The hardest day of my life", I now see that just like Bagger Vance was there with Junuh, the Holy Spirit was right there with Marci and I. He held our hand, cried with us, and guided the medical team as they saved our baby's life. He comforted us and took care of Will through this scary time. He never left us, not once.

Obviously, God has a big plan for Rylan and it's something he was born with that only he can do. And, the fact that our son Will saw these events unfold and will grow stronger because of them, has done nothing but reinforce the fact that he is also tabbed by God to play a big part in His plan. This foreshadowing of events in my son's futures makes me eager to see the whole game play out.

Now play the game Will and Rylan... Your game... The one that only you were meant to play...

PRAISE HIM... AGAIN!!!

We got the pathology report back--- NO CANCER!!!!!!!

Yet again, God comes through.

I guess the human fleshly nature keeps us doubting... Gotta' keep crucifying the flesh and to be more and more sanctified.

Thanks for your prayers!

A Day Filled with Promise...

Today, Marci went to a Dermatologist. The borderline melanoma mole that was removed yesterday was scary enough, and we wanted a specialist's opinion. She had her diagnosis evaluated by the Doctor she visited today, that told her not to worry, it's not as bad as we thought, and don't go planning your funeral music just yet (Dr. Cooper has a great sense of humor). As you can imagine, this put Marci's and all of our minds at ease.

Meanwhile back at the Ranch...

Rylan, Will, and I all spent the morning hanging out, watching cartoons, and changing poopy diapers. Rylan really is doing great and I am still praising God for his health. I am still in awe by the fact that two weeks ago, we were at our lowest of lows and facing the death of a child. But today, we are home with a normal happy baby that is eating like a pig, waking us up in the middle of the night, and of course making all kinds of cute noises and faces. I think my friend Roy Hooker summed it up when he sent me a text about how happy he was that Rylan was doing so well. He wrote the Psalmists words:

"Praise be to God from whom all blessings flow"

I'm praising him, we all are. Things are looking up... But when should I have ever doubted God? He always comes through in the end and saves the day. He is an awesome God, and there is nothing I can ever do to thank Him enough for all he has given to, and has trusted me with.

AND, I can't thank all of you enough for your prayers and encouragement through this difficult time. God has answered your prayers and for that, I will always be indebted to you. Please feel free to drop me an email sometime so I can try to thank you. I love you all...

And the Saga Continues... Cancer?

I've spent the last five days writing about the ups and downs and the amazing miracle that our son Rylan has become. I spent time telling about the valleys and the mountaintops where God has showed up and once again been the hero of our story. Yesterday, I rushed things a bit in my post, and sped up the story so that I could write a bit about what happened on Monday. But this time, it wasn't Rylan, it was Marci.

When Rylan was born, our Doctor removed a large mole near the site of the C-Section. I hadn't really given the mole much thought, but Marci sure had. Several times during Rylan's time in the NICU, it was always in the back of her mind. For some reason, I guess woman's intuition that something was wrong with it, and obviously she was scared. I actually asked about it and was told that results would take at least two weeks because they always send moles off to some expert, mole lab place to be read by mole professionals, I guess. So we waited...

On Monday, I was sitting in our TV room with Rylan sound asleep on my chest when our friend Sarah called. She is our Doctor's PA and she was calling to check in on Marci's blood pressure. I told her that the BP was still up a bit, but to be honest, Marci was more concerned by the fact that we had not heard from the "Mole Experts" yet. She promised to call them and get a verbal and would call us back.

A couple of hours went by and she called. Marci answered the phone, it was Sarah. I heard Marci change from her usual bright, happy self, to a scared composure. When she got off the phone, she looked at me and said, "I HAVE CANCER". She immediately got up and dialed her mom. I put the baby down and went through the house after her. As you can imagine, she was a basket case and me being the man I am, was confused. I hugged her and she cried. I asked what did Sarah tell her and she told me the following diagnosis:

Atypical Displaysia with Margins of Melanoma

GOOD GRIEF!!! I thought to myself. What else could we face this week?

I asked her what it meant and she was too upset to say anything. She told me I had to call our surgeon friend that we grew up with because he knew about it and would do the surgery if needed. Of course, I called Eric and left him a message.

For the next half hour, Marci and I had a whole range of emotions. I'm not going to go to in depth here, but I can tell you we talked about everything from "What have we done to be punished like this?" All the way to the other side of the spectrum which even included death and the future. This was a very, very, very dark place that the enemy obviously used to his advantage.

All I could do was start praising God for what He had done for us in the life of our son, and how He's still on the throne and he's not leaving us anytime soon. But, the question always goes back to :

"Why God? Why Me?"

I remembered all too well asking God, why our little baby? But I also remembered God healing him and giving us a miracle.

Marci's mom showed up in a little while, and we all talked about it. Marci was terrified, and I'd be lieing if I said I wasn't. I was afraid of what my wife might have to face which included everything from surgery to chemotherapy. A billion different thoughts and emotions ran through my head at light speed.

About an hour later, our surgeon friend called. The first thing he told me was to not be afraid because this is not as bad as it seems. He told me that this is probably just a mole that may be in transition between benign and cancerous, but it's not a true blue melanoma. It has melanoma tendencies on one of the borders, so that have to treat it like a melanoma and remove 1cm of skin around the entire site. Before he got off the phone, he told me to have Marci at his office tomorrow so he could do the surgery Wednesday morning and be done with it.

After I hung up, I felt a whole lot better about the whole thing. He gave me hope that it really isn't a big deal and he'd take care of it. BUT, Marci on the other hand was still an emotional wreck. The way she saw it, she is a 32 year old woman with cancer cells detected on her body. The sad thing is, she was right. No matter how "Small of a Deal" it was, it was still cancer cells.

On Tuesday, Marci's mom took her to Eric's office while I watched the boys. Eric talked to her and explained it a little better. When she got home, she felt a little better about it, but knew that in the morning, she'd be having surgery.

This morning at 7:30, Eric removed 1cm of skin from the entire perimeter of where the mole was located. The outlook we were given is 99.9% chance of no other cancer will be detected in the excised skin. However, even if its only a 0.1% chance, we still worry, and will be for the next two weeks. So, I would really appreciate your prayers while we wait. I know and have personally witnessed miracle after miracle in the life of my son over the past couple weeks and I know that God will do one here too.

All day long, I just can't help but keep thinking that God is just adding to the testimony that we are living right now. And, I can't keep from thinking that Rylan saved Marci's life because he was born before the mole could turn into a full fledged melanoma and be removed. What if Rylan was born same time next year? What if we had never even tried for another child? Once again, I am reminded that Rylan is not only a miracle baby, but a life saver.

Rylan the Miracle Baby (Part5 - Going Home)

On Saturday morning March 1st, Marci and I went to the NICU first thing in the morning to see our boy. When we got there, the weekend crew of nurses was on duty. We didn't know any of them and the nurse assigned to Rylan didn't have much to say about his condition. This was probably because she had just come on, but we were so used to asking questions and getting an answer that we were upset. Later on, we got to know her and turns out she is an awesome nurse.

Anyway, there we stood by Rylan's crib staring at him. He still had the chest tubes, ventilator and all the other leads hooked up to equipment that beep, rang, and did all sorts of things that we didn't understand. As we stood there, we began to cry. All the emotions of Thursday came pouring back in and the heartache returned. We hurt so bad because he was so helpless and because of the sedation, lifeless.

I LOST IT...

I started weeping because I couldn't control it. I wanted him to get better and I even remembered saying "I wish he would just grab my hand!" I was hurting and Marci was agonizing with me. It was truly rock bottom and the worst thing about it was that I kept hearing the nurses behind me talking about everything from Girl Scout Cookies to what food their kids spit up while eating. I know it wasn't their fault that Rylan was sick, but I guess it hurt so much because their lives were going on just fine and dandy, while we seemed to be crawling on our bellies through a swamp.
We had to get out of there so we retreated to our room.

When we got there, we broke down. Thank God for Marci's mom that was there and gave us the voice of reason. She reminded us how all of the tests were coming back good and Rylan was getting better by the minute. We knew this was the truth, but we were so beat down and the Devil was hitting us hard with doubt and diminishment.

He was getting better by the minute! The problem was, it was like watching grass grow: You know that it is growing, but you just can't see it happening. We prayed together and calmed down a little.

Throughout the day, we had several visitors. It was nice to see friends come by that cared about us and our family. Along with visitors, good news kept pouring in. Rylan had another chest Xray that came back clear and also, his blood work was getting better and better. I'll never forget when Marci's nurse Jenny came in and told us that he's not fighting for his life, but he's mending. Things were looking up!

Later, I met with the Doctor. She told me that she hoped to be able to wean him from the vent and hopefully take him off of it in a few days. Actually, they clamped the chest tubes a couple hours after I talked to her, because Rylan no longer needed them. And, they had reduced his oxygen level to 21%, which is room air!

Saturday night was a long one. All night long, the loudspeakers kept going off in the hallways announcing that someone had coded. "Code Blue Heart and Vascular"... "Code Blue ICU"... "Code Blue ER"... and about three helicopter arrivals and departures made the nighttime anxiety levels rise. I don't think Marci, nor her mom slept a wink. I slept more than them, but was awake for the codes.

BUT, Sunday saw the dawn of a new day. We went to the NICU at 9:00 AM and saw Rylan. He still looked the same, but we now were much, much, much more optimistic. We talked to him, prayed for him, and left after about 30 minutes or so. Back at the room, we waited...

In the past few days, the nurses started becoming more and more concerned with how high Marci's blood pressure was staying. She never had hypertension until now. First of all, post pregnancy hypertension is normal and all of them kept telling us that it would come down. Also, with the stress we had been through, it was understandable. But when they took her BP on Sunday morning they said it shouldn't have been that high even if she had run up the stairs! Then, they took mine, and it was even higher. SO, the nurses put both of us to bed with cold rags on our heads and told us to calm down...

By 11:20 AM, I felt calm enough to go to the NICU. I went down and scrubbed in. The first person I ran into was the charge nurse that told me they had just finished doing a whole bunch of things to our son. This scared me, but she was smiling the whole time! When I got to his crib, I realized that the tubes were gone from his chest, and he was OFF THE VENT!!!! I shouted as I ran out the NICU and down the hall to tell Marci. She cried, I cried, everybody cried! We were on a high until they told us they were going to bottle feed him too. Then we got down. We knew that if he failed the bottle feed, we'd be off to somewhere for another scope.

At about 1:00 PM, the Doctor came in and told us that Rylan had taken 20cc's of a bottle and did fine! Again I shouted!!! She told us she would keep feeding him ever four hours and monitor him. For the rest of the day, he did great on the bottle and things were really looking up for sure.

But, Monday dawned with Marci's blood pressure still out of sight. She was averaging around 170/110 and at about 3:00 PM she got very sick with headache and vomiting. They took her for a catscan and gave her medicine. Now, I was more worried about my wife than my baby!

We had already stayed two extra days while they monitored the blood pressure, and it looked like we'd be in another night. I worried about her blood pressure but the catscan came back fine. But most of all, I was worried about leaving the hospital without our baby and going home and having to see his nursery empty. That I dreaded most...

We had a pretty good night of sleep in anticipation of spending more time with our son in the NICU on Tuesday. When we went to see him Tuesday morning, his nurse Pat showed us how the site of his chest tube penetrations looked like little stripes that he'd have forever. We had already claimed the healing scripture about stripes and now we could see it!. Marci fed him and they told us he could possibly go home on Thursday after finishing his antibiotics.

That evening, we got the boot from the hospital. Even though Marci's BP was still sky high, we had to leave without our little one there. We knew he was in good hands, but it just didn't seem right to go home without him. We went to our house and stood in the nursery and cried. We were home, but missing our baby.

Wednesday, I went back to work. As you can imagine, my mind was elsewhere, but I was blessed to have so many of my co-workers stop by and ask about Rylan. I was humbled by so many telling me they had been praying. I also had many opportunities to tell of the 'God Thing' going on with my child. After work, Marci and I went to the NICU and I got to feed my son. I was terrified, but it worked out pretty good and they told us to be ready tomorrow to take him home. We were excited! But scared too.

Thursday morning, I went to work waiting on the call to come get Rylan. Marci and here mom went on to the hospital and I would have joined them were it not for the fact that I had to go at lunch and buy a rocking chair. I know, I know... wait until the last minute. But I found the perfect chair and threw it in the back of the truck. Right after I started toward the house to drop it off, my phone rang and it was the nurse in the NICU telling me to head that way.

To wind up the rest of this story, we took Rylan home at 3:00 PM Thursday March 6, 2006, ten days after he entered this world. In his first 10 days, he had been born, then died, been resuscitated, was put on a ventilator, poked and prodded countless times, Xrayed 8+ times, and all the while hooked up to strange machines that monitor every aspect of his body. He was as sick as a newborn can possibly get, but by God's grace and tons of answered prayers, he never left us permanently.

So, as I lie here on the couch with Rylan sleeping soundly on my chest, I will be the first one to admit that God really is in control. I also know that by His stripes we are healed. It is true that God has a big plan for this kid. Marci and I are looking forward to seeing that plan play out!