...It seemed you were running so well, so swiftly, what hindered you? Good question... I have this old dog named Lucky whose eleven and a half. His hips are "tired", possible artheritis, and if you ever watch him lay down it can take a while. I always insert dialogue like the following:

(Circle, circle , circle) oh, this spot's not right. Over here maybe. (Circle, circle, circle)(2X or 3X) ... No, something's not right. Oh here! Okay, this is good. (Circle, circle, circle)... okay, easy... and down...aaahhh!!

He has a dog pillow, his own dog-chair (old sofa chair, covered in dog hair), 18 various "favorite spots" and still...

So now I'm an old dog? My hips may not be shot yet, but my need for comfort matches his. It seems in my walk down this path that after I encounter a stretching, painful growth time, it is always followed by "the circle, circle, circle" period. How many spots will I try before I eventually flop down and lick my wounds??
How long will I stay down?

The great part about Lucky is that he follows his master from room to room. So after he has gone through this entire process, if I get up to leave the room, he's right there beside me, pain and all; a true friend, a real follower.

INK

some old and some new

... And then I found myself in the chair at "Susuin Ink" on Tuesday of this week. Mark and Dale were by my side, distracting me with small talk. The center figures in the tattoo, arms raised in worship on either side of the cross was installed in my skin in early '04. (Jacqui has the same design on her back and sat in the same chair immediately after me on this Tuesday. She winced, cried perhaps(?) but was an AWESOME subject without flinching or moving. GO GIRL!!). The artist/technician is a man named Auric Goldfingers. Like me, he is a follower of Christ, not to mention just being a way cooool guy and EXCELLENT tattoo-er.

The process took 3 hours as he went over over the "old" ink and added the NEW EMBELLISHED DESIGN also. The experience involves more than just physical pain. There is a release of endorphins which is described as:

["Any of a group of peptide hormones that bind to opiate receptors and are found mainly in the brain. Endorphins reduce the sensation of pain and affect emotions"]

Along with the pain, came a strange intoxication of the senses, a euphoria that is unlike anything I've ever experienced. The dictionary describes euphoria, "a feeling of well being, esp. an exaggerated one having no basis in truth or reality". So, there's this guy with a needle, maybe even a group of needles very close to each other moving in and out of your skin VERY rapidly feeling as if someone is cutting you with a knife... but you feel HAPPY, perhaps a little LOOPY. You still feel the pain but now it's different, like getting socked in the stomach. ( Did you lose air and gasp for breath? Of course you did... Now put a couple of pillows over your stomach and take another shot into you solar-plexes. Still hurts a little, but you didn't lose your air.)

For me, it is a crucifixtion of my flesh, a passage to a greater understanding that my mind and more importantly the Spirit in me has a much greater power over that flesh of mine.

I can also describe it as a "marker" to some. It defines a time in your life by putting an exclamation point on it. A time you can look back on and remember each element of that period in your life in vivid, crystal detail.

I've been told that each person is different in how they react to the experience. Each tattoo has it's own story. What is/was yours?... Why would or wouldn't you ever do this? Please comment and we'll talk...

snakes shed their skin... how often, i'm not quite sure, probably different for each specie, but i know this: they need to do it because they are GROWING and their old skin becomes too small to fit into. during this shedding period, they are at their most vulnerable since they may still be partially trapped in their old skin. predators could be lurking to pounce at any time. once out, the new skin is very soft and they are again susceptible to the enemy... however they can move, slither, whatever...

(it feels good to be in a new skin, maybe still shaking off the old... still vulnerable to attacks... but being able to move, dance, drum, sing and shout out to the One who deserves the thanks...)

THEY CALL ME LIGHTMAN!!!

Why are we obsessed with super-heroes? We are... they keep making new movies about them and now there's a t.v. show where people dress up in their favorite super hero costumes. Me... just call me LIGHTMAN for now. Tonight, I'll be heading out to the drive-in movie complex to fill in for my friend Jeff whose celebrating 17 yrs of marriage...YEAH!... with his wife Toni for a weekend away from kids and responsibilty. You see, a few years ago Jeff started a hobby; really a way to supplement his income, by selling glow sticks at the drive-in. Believe it or not, it's quite lucrative.

So, imagine if you can, a man with a dark apron, upon which 100 glowing flourescent light sticks(neon pink, blue, green) protrude his chest, flairing out to the sides, a cowbot hat with three blinking lights (red, blue, yellow), a blinking mouthpiece (red, blue, green, yellow), a rope light necklace streaming light around his neck (red, blue, green)... walking eerily in the twilight, passing children and adults as they stare and wonder... "LIGHTMAN!!" They scream. "HEY, are you selling those" or "COME OVER HERE!" or "MOM, DAD, CAN I HAVE ONE?".... and the frenzy begins...

One of my drum-heroes is none other than Neil Peart of Rush (all the prog-rockers in d'house say "YEAH!"). And strangely it's not for the most obvious reason, his drumming. Sure he's up there as far as one of the best in his field, however that's not why I chose him... In August of 1997, his nineteen-year-old daughter, Selena, was killed in an auto accident. Then within 10 months time, his wife Jackie died of cancer. One year later, crushed but not abandoned, he climbed upon his BMW R1100GS motorcycle and proceeded on a journey of over 55,000 miles from Quebec to Alaska, along the coast to Mexico and Belize then eventually back home over a period of 14 months. Along the way he journaled his setbacks and progress in healing. He said in an interview in Modern Drummer (Sept.'02)...

"The only thing I was motivated to do was travel, to just go down the road every day to see what was over the next hill or around the next corner. Hope was the only muscle at work then, the hope that maybe something would come up. I kept saying to myself, 'something will come up, something will come up'. It's probably the only thing that kept me alive."

He went on to say that after alot of time had passed, life became beautiful and precious again.

Hope... sometimes it's the only muscle at work.

I don't know what's over that next hill Lord, but I 'll go and see... maybe something will come up?...

Breaking up is hard to do...

Wow, this was a rough week. I had a hard time showing emotion or expressing it verbally throughout the tough task of sending our friends off and away to another land. It's bitter sweet in that you want the best for the McDaniels, realize that God has annointed their journey, maybe even think it's a cool time to just pack up and jam outa' here yourself! Yet... it's painful, because we've travelled so far together. We've watched our children sprout, our own selves age and mature (hopefully with grace), and all the exterior changes from the clothes we wore, to hair styles and hair colors changes; a road map of the different cars we've driven along similar and sometimes different paths, and finally to the place where we hang our hats at the end of the day. If I were to compare family pictures from 1993, when we first met the McDaniels, with today, the changes would be vast and obvious.

WE DID IT...IT HAPPENED... we changed on the inside too. But I can't take a picture of my insides... wouldn't really know how to go about it. If I could, and compared it to my insides today, then I'm sure I'd say, "YES! I DID IT. I CHANGED AND GREW." So why, WHY, during this HUGE airport-goodbye-scene was I not an emotional blubbering mess? In fact, I noticed that none of the other guys were sobbing while the women and children cried uncontrollably at times. Sure there were moist eyes but are men really that different when it comes to this type of situation? I'M REALLY JUST WORKIN' THROUGH THIS... Yes, I was sad in a BIG way, yet strangely envious in another. Am I just bottling it up inside and one day soon it'll creep in and "WHAM" hit me? Maybe, I secretly carry in my heart a desire to just "GO" for God in such a HUGE way that there can be no turning back? Perhaps the very chains that keep me anchored to my insecurities are self imposed chains and I really have the key unlock them? Can God unlock 'em? (OF course)... Perhaps I've romanticized the IDEA of puttin' it all on line without taking into account the personal PRICE of a decision; that which is true and inescapable... hmmmm...

Does God want me here, right now, in this time and place? Is this town really my mission field? So many questions to ponder?

So why do I feel numb? Look, I know everyone processes these things differently but I'm beginning to get a little impatient...

We were driving home from the airport yesterday, heading to "Krispy Kreme" to console ourselves in several dozen HOT donuts. Jacqui and the car full of female children were basically dehydrated due to excessive tear-duct leakage. I think I asked Jacqui if she was alright. She answered, "yeah"... then added, "are you, uh, made of stone or something?" Probably because I'd shown a limited amount of emotion to this point. I replied, "Hey, that was harsh." She said, "sorry, I was trying to joke with you about it, but it came out wrong..." I replied, "It's okay. I'm wonderin' too... am I just numb?... I think it hasn't hit me yet." And that was it. It hadn't hit me yet.

So now, I know what I have to do. I have to keep asking questions and keep crying out to God for answers. I have to keep working it through my heart and mind that THEY are gone and that this incredible period in my life has now ended and changed. Then, I'll think of some great times that I had with my friends and look at pictures in albums and remember. I'll examine the many roads that we traversed together, sometimes stumbling, limping along, one holding up the other, then bursting out, running at full speed with abandon towards the goal.

And I'll feel, know, experience... for today, then start over again, when my eyes open, to face another morning... and more questions, for now... more praises to the One who blessed me with knowing the McDaniels.

Happy Birthday Mom!!

Two days ago, on Tuesday Dolores Crockett would have been 79 yrs old; my dad, Henry would be 82... have they really been GONE that long now? (My mom passed away in April of 2002, my dad in October of 1995)...how old am I again...? Well, not as old as I like to admit, however my folks had me LAST... the end of eight babies. Those who know me are aware that I have three older sisters; wait, that's only four kids?... correct, you see, my mom lost four babies... 4...four...FOUR... let that thought roll around in your mind for a moment.

Due to Mom's size (5 ft nothin', less than 100 lbs) and poor perinatal care (she was allowed to smoke AND drink alcohol) she was unable to carry babies throughout the final trimester. So, (aside from my sisters and me) they were all born at around 30 weeks and weighed less than 3 lbs. Joseph, John, David and Donna breathed air for only a few minutes, hours, or only a few days. I often wondered why my folks had not just given up? There was just too much pain to endure in losing four children. Why contiunue? I don't really know... never probably will. BUT, THEY DID! They...just... did... it! They had more babies despite the fear of losing another. I wondered how I would've dealt with that magnitude of emotionally, physically demanding pain had I been the parent in their situation.

As hindsight is 20/20, I can see the road map that they took, that we travelled TOGETHER AS A FAMILY forever stained by such a devistating loss. I witnessed the mark it left on my mom as I often wondered, even fought vehemently against my mother's WORRYING nature... she was the best of the BEST when it came to worry. When I was an infant, I experienced febrile seizures. At 3 yrs of age I had surgery to correct a double hernia. I'm fairly certain that she thought I'd be dead before my 10th birthday. There were the times during potty training when I would run outside to relieve myself in the middle of the street amidst the passing cars. There was the time I was pushing the Tonka truck down the sidewalk, tripped and split my head open.. and so many others... so little time, such MUCH to worry about... the chronic nose bleeds, the spills on the bicycle because if Evil Kneviel could do a stunt or fly off a jump, then I could too. It seems that I was always sick with a cold or the flu. She was always pushing flat 7up, salteens, chicken soup and aspirin.

Then there was the caring, cooking and the feeding, "Eat, Eat!...Did you eat yet?" of us and every single person who passed through our home. TONS of food! Even as a grown man coming to her house I could probably count on one hand the number of times that I DIDN"T eat a full meal. And then when I left... "Oh, here take this loaf of bread, these eggs and this pack of (batteries, paper towels or various sundries). It was 'buy one get one free' day and I just don't have the room!" When my girls came into her life along with my sisters son Matt, she was renewed again in her quest for new levels of worry and new mouths to feed. Soon, I began to see her "worry" in different light: LOVE. Yes, love was the reason and the only true reason for her to continue along a difficult path; even when my father died in 1995 and Mom began to experience debiltating weakness from a lifetime of health problems, she fought for every inch that it took to be a part of our lives. In time, I began to see her small acts of service: remembering a birthday with a gift or a card, attending family functions or grand-kids recitals, a phone call with a kind word, a hot meal, all orchestrated by a women who couldn't drive a car or could barely leave her easy chair without assitance. I could go on and on...

Thank you Lord for my mom (and my dad too). I couldn't imagine it any other way, with anyone else. Thank you Father for the simple, short journey that you arranged for us to take together. It really was a brief dance in the moonlight, wasn't it?...

"I'm Batman..."

My wife's blog had a link to a web site where you can find out which SUPERHERO you are after answering a few questions. I was hoping to be SUPERCHICKEN or perhaps UNDERDOG... but yes, I'm BATMAN... which I'm actually quite pleased about.

I like batman... he's got great gadgets and I've been accused of being a "MacGiver" or "macgivering" by rigging up 3 unrelated items (like a dirt-clod, a paper clip and a small hair brush to create a cold-fusion reactor).
I could have posted a really cool picture of Batman, however, this seemed more fun...what about his swell gadgets?... I'm pickin' up that the green thing is bat-rope... but what is the brown object? A large wedge of cheese? Maybe, hardened bat-guano?... what do you think??

The steps of a man...

It's way too late... or too early depending on who you ask. The power went out again for, what... maybe the 3rd, perhaps 4th time since yesterday. I probably would have slept through it were it not for that annoying chirping sound coming from one of the numerous (hardwired) smoke detectors (which probably means that the battery is low in juice, hence the "chirp" when power is supplied through said (dying) battery) .

The steps of a man are established by the Lord...

Aside from some twilight streaming in through the windows, it was very dark. I arose from the couch and began to feel my way across the B-room (my wife is away on a business trip and the couch is sometimes the only place I can fall asleep) in search of a flashlight. Now for some time, I've always slept with a light on; a bathroom or hall light, night- light, something! I worked at a hospital on the night shift for 6 years straight and a grand total of 9 years all together. This meant sleeping during the day most times until my days off. If slept at night, then awoke suddenly in pitch darkness, I would fly out of bed, disoriented, usually imagining that I'm at work and fell asleep on the job or that I'm supposed to be at work but am late. "What day is it? What time is it?" I would frantically ask Jacqui. So, this seemed to lessen the trauma if I left a light on and could survey my environment.

...and He delights in his way.

As I proceed to my bedroom for a flashlight, the house appeared to be a completely foreign territory. Had I never wandered through my house in near-total darkness? The small amount of light being filtered by the window treatments created a surreal psychodelic effect in that I could not focus my eyes on anything. I continued to feel my way down the hall navigating around the dog, laundry baskets, the vaccuum, shoes; all the while trying to clear my eyes and focus but to no avail.

When he falls, he will not be hurled headlong, because the Lord is the One who holds his hand.
Ps 37:23

I made to the bedroom and found my flashlight. I went downstairs and hunted for the chirping, rogue detector. Along the way I grabbed some big candles (thanks to my Honey for being a candle girl!) and eventually found the noisey smoke detector. As I struggled to open it, the power came back on. I wouldn't have realized it on my own, but a little voice called out in the darkness. "Dad.. hey dad? The power is back on." It was my daughter Alex coming up behind me. My rustling around had awakened her. Then the odd falshlight activity had alerted her to something going on downstairs. As we headed back to bed I wondered why Alex had not called out for me initially from the safety of her loft bed? Why did she venture down into the darkness without even a flashlight, into the dangerous unknown? Suddenly, I knew why. She knows the sound her father makes when he's in the house. It is distinct and personal, rich with subtle nuances. There is no doubt in her mind that her father is in the house.

This morning I cut myself shaving...(some may laugh, as I have roughly 27 hairs on my face)...1st thought was, "gotta change the blade, must be dull"...then, almost immediately came, " for the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edge sword," into my brain...the rest I had to look up:... "and peircing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.
...how fascinating that in our FLESH world we are cut and injured most by that which is DULL...sure the sharp knives and other things cut too; but you have a greater chance of an accident with a UN-SHARP tool...WHY?...because U expect it to be sharp and then press extra hard because it's not cutting..then..OOPS , comes the slip, then the damage...GOD IS THE OPPOSITE: His sword never needs to be sharpened, but simply put into the motion of cutting; being used...
Q: where have I not allowed the sword to cut in my life?
Q: where is He cutting now in my life and in the body of believers?

In Gen 12 the Lord told Abram, "leave your country, your people and your father's household and go to the land I will show you"...verse 4 says.."so Abram left as the Lord told him..."

For me it was more like one word, not audibly heard but felt within every pore of my being...GO...but God the people need me and my wife for healing...GO...but i can't let them down...GO NOW...GET OUT OF THE WAY...

so yes...jacqui and i have stepped down from the leadership of 1st baptist church... what can this all mean? what will become of us... what will become of 1st baptist? well...to all of the above I DON'T KNOW!

however...if i submit to my Lord daily, hourly, moment by minute by second, then He will lead me and my family to a place, a house of worship, wherever it may be and whatever it may look like.

THE REAL REASON FOR LEAVING: God said...that was it, so stop guessing, gossiping and projecting! if that is confusing, call me.

FAUX REASON: the mcdaniels made us do it...we signed an oath in blood...RIDICULOUS AS THIS SOUNDS, SOME MAY BELIEVE IT!!...i am JOKING of course...mrs crockett and i have never pursued going to hawaii outside of a simple prayer, "God should we go to hawaii? uh...let me know...open some BIG doors...if not, well, you know where i'll be"...

I FIND THAT HARD TO BELIEVE!!...yes someone actually said this to our face when we told them we were NOT leaving because of the mcdaniels leaving...if you know me, believe that i am a man of integrity and that the spirit of our livng, breathing Lord, dwells within my fleshy confines, then perhaps He has driven our decision to leave; to be "booted" out by Him for His purpose-or- does that only work when "we" understand or've done the booting?... it should not

GOD IS IN CONTROL: as He works and speaks to those who hear His voice, they will respond and step into new areas of leadership...our responsbility in promoting UNITY in the body is to not spread lies about others or about a movement like CRASH, but rather to trust in the integrity and the personal walk of the individual or group that THEY are pursuing CHRIST...OR picking up the phone or standing face to face and telling that person what you think.

"I'm trying to free your mind, Neo. But I can only show you the door. You're the one that has to walk through it." Morpheus, The Matrix

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