Merry Conundrum

I love preparing for Christmas.

The tree.
The lights.
The wreathes.
The presents.

But every year, part of it bothers me -- big time -- and I blame Hallmark.

Now, I'm man enough to admit this: I love Hallmark.  Fresh Ink cards rock, and I've certainly watched my fair share of 'Hallmark Made-For-TV Movies'.

I'm talking about the Christmas card aisle.  I've spent several weeks now searching through piles of boxed cards for the right sentiment, the right phrase, and the right pictures to express my annual yuletide greeting.

There are cards that seem to say 'Merry-Swirly-Font-Country-Club-Christmas'.
There are cards that seem to say 'Have-An-Eco-Friendly-Kind-Of-New-Age-Unicefy-Holiday'.
There are cards that seem to say (nothing but) 'Happy-Birthday-Sweet-Baby-Jesus'.
There are (way too many) cards with tons of sparkles, sprinkles, snow, sleighs and Santa.

But this year, there's nothing that seems to say, 'I'm-29-And-Single-And-Care-Enough-To-Send-You-A-Card-Because-I-Think-You're-Cool-And-Just-Want-To-Wish-You-A-Merry-Christmas.' 

Ugh.

And then, there's the question of a picture and an update: To include or not to include?

At first thought, it seems extremely vain as a single guy.  But it's okay for couples and pretty much standard protocol for families, right?

Should that 'threshold' really be my ability to share a picture and matching sweaters?

You can clearly see my conundrum.  After much thought, I turned online.  Alas, a solution.

So, watch your mailbox, dear friends.  My cards are on order and will soon be on their way.  I think I've struck a balance this year.  They should, for the amount of thought I've put into them.

Overheard 11/11/09 (A Two-Fer!)

"I'm the sheriff (PRONOUNCED 'Sheruf') in this town, and I say you're as guilty as sin."
-A local sheriff, to a man pleading his innocence in the lobby of a local jail.

"His house reeked of cigarettes and mental instability."
-Me, describing a rather awkward conversation while covering a story today.

Peripheral Vision

There's a brief passage in the book of Proverbs that has been my favorite this week.  It's the advice of a father to his son in a brilliant and practical chapter about living life with wisdom:

"Let your eyes look straight ahead, fix your gaze directly before you.  Make level paths for your feet and take only ways that are firm." (Proverbs 4:25, 26)

Three words have stuck out this week, and not just because I highlighted (and underlined) them: Look straight ahead.
Not up.
Not down.
Not to the left.
Or right.
Or behind.
Look straight ahead.

To be brutally honest, this has been tough for me.  Here's how I processed this in my journal this week:

"When you look straight ahead, you seem to be able to live with a much more balanced viewpoint.  Think of it this way: Peripheral vision allow me to see just enough of the directions around me that I'm aware of what's going on around me, but not overly concerned."

I have problems with this and regrettably, my inconsistency proves it.

More often than not, I'm looking up, laboring and yes, 'obsessing', about my relationship with God.  I get caught up in a 'do-do-do' mentality, instead of 'be-be-be'.  When that happens, I ignore the 'stones' right in front of me that are set to trip me up.  That, or I take too much pride in my 'do-do-do' spirituality to remember my need for grace.

Then there are the days I spend looking down, obsessed with my schedule, struggles and strategies, and all but ignore the Father.

Either way, when I'm looking anywhere other than straight ahead, my perceptions of the other directions are out of whack.  And when I think wrong things, I believe wrong things.  And when I believe wrong things, I do wrong things.  It's not pretty.

Perhaps it's the amount of time I spend in my Mizunos, but the thought of running helps me think about this in a good way.  I can't expect to run very well when I'm looking up all the time. (Plus, I'd look even more ridiculous than I already do!).  I also can't expect to run well with my chin on my chest.

The ancient advice of a father to his son rings true today: Look straight ahead.

Thoughts?  Feedback?  How can I be praying for you?

Overheard 11/5/09

"Is 'Oriental' worse than 'Chinese'?"
-Beth, Channel 4 producer, in reference to backward southern euphamisms.

Confidence

Much like the rear-view mirror on your car, I think I should come with a warning label:

"GUY IN FRONT OF YOU IS NOT AS CONFIDENT AS HE MAY APPEAR."

Now, please don't think I need therapy. That's a given.

I've just been thinking 'consistent confidence' seems a healthier way to live.  It seems to be what God offers, as well.

And that, of course, requires having confidence in the right things.

The problem?  It seems I tend to struggle with basing my confidence in all the wrong things: my job, my relationships, my 'stuff', my health, my ability to get things done, etc.

But when those things -- being inconsistent at their core -- prove less-than-ideal, you can guess what happens to my confidence: It suffers.  My sense of self winds up looking a lot a roller coaster: up and down, inconsistent and nauseating.

Believe me, dear readers, I know the 'Sunday School' answer: I need to have a deeper confidence in "who God made me to be", blah, blah, blah...

But as I've thought/prayed/written about this, I've sensed a deep nudge to process the 'why': Why do I put confidence in things that are bound to fail every now and then?  Why is that my default, especially when I know the better alternative?

I'm not going to try to wrap this up with a cute, little answer.  That seems trite and convenient.

No, I'm going to let those questions simmer a bit, confident I'm not the only one who needs to wrestle to find an answer.

Overheard 10/28/09

"I'm just going to feel it."
"Let it simmer."
-Michael Jackson, 'This Is It' and as of tomorrow, me in our newsroom.

Overheard 10/24/09

"Control is the greatest of all illusions."
-Pete Wilson, Cross Point Community Church

Harbor, Part 2

Yesterday, I wrote about the deeply significant, gritty, contemplative and heart-spurring moments of my recent trip to Rhythm in Twenty.

Today, I'm writing about the fun.

Part of the reason I love being a part of this group is the chance to simply have a blast with about 20 guys who routinely, it seems, find a way to have much more fun than I.  It's challenging, in a pretty unique way.  I love that there's always time to just let guys be guys.

That being said, here are my top 10 fun moments from Rhythm.
1. Rooming with Trevor DeVage.  Seriously, the guy's flippin' amazing and high-larious and I'm glad we're better friends for our few days together.
2. Introducing Kyle to the joys of a well-made Long Island Iced Tea.
3. Reconnecting with my 'Flintastic' friend, Jenny Cavnar.  Her talent has taken her far from ABC12 to the sidelines for San Diego's professional teams.  Kyle and I had a blast checking out a few of her favorite hot-spots in San Diego.
4. Visiting Momentum Christian Church on Sunday morning.  I love to see pastors passionate about doing new things and it was great to make a few new friends in Chula Vista.
5. Trying (and failing) at surfing, but showing wisdom in opting for a wetsuit.  Seriously, some of the guys had some wicked chaffing.
6. A lengthy, late-night pool-side conversation.  We solved a few of the world's problems in that hot tub, for sure.
7. Cruising up and down I-5 in a white, Mustang convertible.  Thanks, Trevor... and whoever made that rental reservation.
8. Southwest flights with Kyle.  The more time I spend with that guy, the more I'm convinced we were made to be as close as friends as we are, specifically for this season of life and beyond.
9. Taking in a Padres game in person.  Their mascot isn't especially vicious, but their beer is cold!
10. Knowing there's another year of this, and another big trip to Estes in 2010.

Harbor

I apologize: This post is long overdue.

It's been a few weeks since I reconnected with more than 20 of the best friends I could ever have in this season of life.

I'm part of a group of men from across the country called Rhythm In Twenty.  The premise is simple: find a better balance between life, love, passions and pursuits in the midst of a community of commonality.

This trip, this year, for me, was simply amazing.

We spent a lot of time in San Diego talking about the nature of a harbor.  The definition we started with stirred something significant deep within my heart throughout the four days:

Harbor.

A place along the coast with deep waters so vessels can drop anchor, so situated with respect to coastal features to provide protection from winds, waves and currents.

A place of refuge and shelter; rest, to weary refugees.

A place to maintain, entertain, contain, hold and capture thoughts.

An asylum, sanctuary, retreat.

A haven; a place of safety in a time of storms.

That discussion of 'harbor' led to a deeper discussion: We spent a lot of time trying to rediscover what causes us to be deeply connected to God and to the present moment.

Here's the reality: So much of the distraction of life causes me to float.  I spent a lot of time thinking, praying and brainstorming with my friends how we can be deeply intentional and deeply engaged.

For me, I'm convinced it means creating more margin for those things that bring me life.  I've spent time in the past few weeks, since returning to Nashville, dreaming a little bit about what that's going to look like, given the challenges of life.  Simply put, I think it's going to mean a few changes, a little bit of re-prioritizing and a lot of new adventure.

I think it has to mean a few changes.  I refuse to float, burn out and otherwise, live a 'status quo' existence.

Yes, the harbor had its lessons, its rest and yes, its play. (I tried surfing for the first time and failed horribly!)  But the thing about the harbor is that we weren't made to live there.  We were made to live on the high seas: the ups-and-downs, the ebbs-and-flows, the challenges and the successes.

I'm back on the high seas with fond memories of the harbor and grateful for the lessons I learned there.

Overheard 10/20/09

"Buh-buh-buh-Booger-Face.  Buh-buh-Booger-Face."
-Molly Day, my co-worker, describing how she sings in the style of Lady Gaga to her dog, Julio.