Spiritual

Often when talking with “leaders,” husbands, wives, or parents, who are experiencing problems, difficulties, road blocks, resistance, revolts, failures, disappointments, or other catastrophe’s, it often can be traced back to making a poor decision. Some questions to consider:  What is your process for making decisions?  Do you have a process?  How do you decide whether or not to purchase a washer and dryer?  Whirlpool or Maytag, Lexus or Volkswagon?  Are you a leader? Pastor?  Business Owner?  Parent?  Are you aware that decisions have long lasting effects on the future, the flock, our finances, our spouse, children, patrons and a host of other people as a result? Poor decisions and undesirable outcomes are often the result of making decisions...

The older I get (maturity yanno), the more people I counsel, with every person I get to know in a deeper, closer way, the more I’m convinced we’re all messed up to one degree or another.  Once you get past the veneers, the facades, the masks, have you ever met anyone who was not wounded in some way by a delusional, angry, mother, abusive father, weird relative, peer, spouse, teacher, pastor, priest, church, or boss?  I haven’t.  But if you’re like me, we tend to look at other people and say, “they have it all together.”  “Why can’t I be like them?” I recently attended a Christian men’s retreat designed to address a man’s shame, anger, loss, guilt, and fear.  The transparency from each man was astonishing and refreshing.  I met...

It’s amazing what observations can be made during a treadmill run at the Y.  I’m facing the clear glass spying the parking lot to help pass time during the painful torture of staying fit. I know it’s almost 9 am because minivans are rolling in and the lot is buzzing with parents and kids making their way into the gym for Saturday morning pee wee basketball.  Single moms, single dads, grandparents, mom and dad seem to be on a mission as they file into the gym. Some kids eagerly run ahead, excited about the challenge ahead.  One mom carries her 3 year old daughter in her arms as brother lags some distance behind with an anxious look on his face.  Reluctance. Clad in crinkled gym shorts, Y tee shirt, and size 6 tennis shoes, they are wondering, “Can I do...

We drove to the local firehall today just as we’ve done so many times before on this crisp, fall, November morning.  We made our way past the cluttered campaign signs and a few cheery poll workers offering their last minute hand shakes and tired, somewhat forced smiles.  We slowly make our way over to the table marked A-M.  “Creasy, C R E A S Y.” We autographed the small space and moved to the next station.  An elderly man handed us our paper ballot and pointed us in the direction of the small, dimly lit voting booth that reminded me of those that protect the contestants on final Jeopardy from sneaking a peek. I notice a lump in my throat.  What is it?  How does one describe the feeling that only manifests and is only noticeable in the polling place...

Experiences of childhood affects many facets of our adult life. Recently I was thinking about my political beliefs of limited government and my dislike for government expansion with entitlement programs. I grew up in a middle class neighborhood. My parents did not have a lot of money, they never gave me a lot of money, but growing up, I never did without the basics. Sure, I would have liked to have been given additional spending money to purchase more clothes, Beatles albums, ballgame tickets, swimming club memberships, junk food, you get the picture. My parents and grandparents grew a lot of our food in vegetable gardens. We ate them fresh from the garden in the summer, and out of jars and freezer bags in the winter. My grandparents kept the neighborhood...

Now that I’m “retired” from my regular day job, I’m on different routines.  For example, I might be at the grocery store during the day instead of on the weekend or at night as was the case today, after returning home from vacation, our cupboards were bear.  I got up later than usual and started to the gym.  Traffic patterns are different at 8 am  vs 5 am.  No joke.  School buses and school mom’s tried to kill me several times with their unexpected starts and stops.  At 5 am, there is no traffic to speak of, so I had the road to myself, but not so at 8am.  The gym is a bee hive at 8am compared to the 10 of us there at 5am. So now, I’m off to the store.  Ok, first lesson, never, never shop at Wegmans on Monday...