Interests:Old movies; promoting small groups in churches; doing creative, wacky things for and with my kids; writing; speaking in elementary schools; drawing for kids anywhere in the world God might lead me Expertise:Old movies; illustrating; leading small group Bible-studies; writing for kids; public speaking; creativity. It's all about the ideas, man. Occupation:Illustrator, Author, Speaker. Industry:Books, art, public speaking
With my daughter home today, I had a chance to do something that I used to do with some frequency with my boys when they were small -- creative things in the snow. Now, it takes me a fair amount of resolve to make myself go out and spend the time, to take the effort, sad to say. But at least today, I did it.
So we built a snow dog. And an idea came to me: to roll the snowballs for the sculpture in a way to spell out a word. The heavy, wet snow -- perfect packing snow -- came off the grass clean and complete. It worked pretty well, though when I was done, I realized how hard it would be to take a picture of it. Luckily, I have a kind, elderly couple across the street. They let me take a picture from their second story bedroom window.
I am a man of words. I feel that God has given me a gift of communication, and I've endeavored to use that gift to encourage others. But in the last two weeks, I've been really challenged to find the right words. Here's what I've had to do:
- write a sympathy card to a woman in our church whose husband died at 50 of cancer.
- console an elderly friend whose son has a brain tumor.
- call a good friend whose father also has a brain tumor (that man undergoes surgery tomorrow)
- express my sorrow to a close friend of the first man above
And now, I need to write a letter to an older man in our church who is dying of cancer. He and his wife attended my Sunday School class for a couple of years. He's a retired engineer with a sharp mind and a gentle spirit, with a wonderfully melodic deep voice. I loved to have him read aloud Scripture in class. In our snippets of conversation over the years I've known him, I've learned of his love of non-fiction historical books and his skill at playing the clarinet. (When I asked why he took up what many boys consider a "feminine" instrument, he said, "Exactly my reason FOR playing it. That was where the girls were!") He told me of his love for language and his annoyance with the use of words like "awesome." I can hear his sneering baritone version of the word even now.
One thing I don't know, though, is his spiritual condition. He certainly is a churchgoer. But does he know Christ? Does he have the assurance of salvation? Good questions. I do know he's an intensely private man. Good-natured, but not one to spill his secrets to acquaintances.
I asked his wife on the phone if I could visit. She said no. He doesn't have the strength. But he'd love a letter.
So now, I am going to pen a letter to him and have been meditating on what to write. For once, this man of words is very uncertain of the words to use. These are probably the last ones I'll ever say to him.
What would you write? Would you be direct about spiritual things? Would you be positive and life-affirming? Chat about the small things? Entertain? Or help him to face the transition into the next world?
Okay, faithful readers. I sent off my poems to the editor at the publisher that has produced my last two books. All those Random Connection poems are winging their way via email to the first official person to read them. I'm calling the book -- for now -- Ninja Chihuahua and Other Whimsical Poems. There are 33 in the manuscript; it would probably be whittled down to 30 in the end. IF it were to be published.
Will you take a second and pray that God will bless this project?
I want God's will to be done. If they're not interested, so be it. But what I would have a hard time dealing with right now is if they dismiss the poems as poorly written or not marketable.I've been really wrestling with finding the determination and energy to keep climbing over the obstacles in my career path. It would be really a blessing to have something go easily.
Thanks. I'll keep you posted.
And just as a little taste, here is one poem from the collection. It's not the most humorous, nor the most clever, but I think it expresses my perspective on life and on my career pretty well. Enjoy.
How often do you wish you had more money? I have pangs of financial wanting from time to time. Over the years, I've taught myself to avoid situations where that envy can breed. I stay out of malls, don't look at catalogs, try to not do what I just did moments ago -- take walks through swank neighborhoods. (One house had a little pond with a waterfall in the front yard.)
Mostly those pangs hit me out of the blue -- when I realize, like I did this morning, that our 20-year-old washer is in its last life-cycle. (Soon to be all washed up?) Or I glance at the roof and consider how much money it will take to replace it. I had been saving up for a new digital camera, since my old one has fought in the trenches of my school travels and now has a key part that routinely falls off. But I used the money I had saved for that to send my son to visit his brother in London.
Speaking of kids, this is the time of year for most kids to want things. It's not their fault. We adults taught them all they know about the Christmas gimmes. In general, my kids don't expect much; they're fairly content, thankful kids (and now adults, two of them).
But my 9-year-old daughter said something this morning which really stopped me in my tracks.
Let me back up quickly and say that every December, we sit down with the World Vision catalog and with a budgeted amount of money and choose gifts to have sent to third-world kids and families. Goats, chickens, a bike, a year of schooling -- things like that. It's become part of our Christmas tradition.
This morning, Grace said, "When I look at that catalog, I wish we were really rich."
Wow. That's exactly right.
That's the very best reason to want money. To give it away.
I'm sitting here at the laptop in my dining room, trying to re-invent myself for the umpteenth time. This go-round involves that thing I did this past summer: drawing and writing on white boards during a corporate think-tank session. I found out through research, it's called graphic facilitating or graphic recording. And I'm scouring the web, trying to get a read on the people who are doing this.
I don't want to do it. I wouldn't mind if I could have fallen into it -- doing a few last summer, having the word spread. Avoid the grueling process of building this new career from scratch. I just don't think I have it in me. I'm not passionate about doing this; I just thought it would be an easy augmentation to my usual, non-paying creative endeavors. Now that it's not going to be easy, my heart sinks at the task ahead.
But the summer looms already like a vast financial desert that I have to cross, my family in tow, every year. I have to do something to try to address this.
There's a line in a Bruce Cockburn song that speaks to me: "I've proven myself so many times, the magnetic strip's worn thin." As technologically antiquated as that is, I feel that. In my career, I've changed styles something like six times; I've added writing, web design, presenting in schools and now this.
