Everlast sings this song called "Know what it's like" and although it is profane, one of the song's points is that the way we treat the homeless (which is bad) is because we don't understand what it's like to be homeless - or in the case of the song "to sing the blues."
Stacie Orrico sings a song called "Instead" and the general point is that given a different roll of the dice, she could have ended up like (in one case) the homeless man she just passed on the street. She asks herself, "Is he hungry; does he have a family?" and questions her own reaction.
Focus on the Family interviewed this guy the other night; he intentionally made himself homeless. He and a friend were dropped off in six different cities to live on the street for a month. He talked about the community, and then how he resorted to pan handling because he simply didn't get enough support from the existing city shelters.
So, this all has me thinking.
My initial thought about the guy on the street corner with the sign is that I don't like him. I figure he is lazy, likely an addict and I even sort of feel he might be secretly wealthy. I know, it's crazy, but that's what I really feel.
Shoot, man, that homeless guy could just be doing a college project - or is a recovering addict who wishes he hadn't ruined his life and his marriage. Not a secret billionaire.
One time this guy asked me for coffee money. I figured it was really for beer or cigarette money. I was already walking down the street so I invited him to walk with me and when we got to Starbucks he could order whatever he wanted. He agreed and I got him a coffee and sandwich. He seemed pretty straight and sobber in retrospect.
Here's what's interesting about that. He told me he preferred to be homeless. He had been for six years and he understood the streets and would be most successful there. It totally did not stick with me; I couldn't put myself into that perspective.
And this is what I have been thinking.
As a Christian, God calls me to do two things: (1) worship and (2) obey. It's important to note that I am not called to evaluate the validity of people's situation, perspective or condition. I am called to simply obey and so then I have a serious problem with Matthew 5:14,16 which says good deeds are the light I am supposed to shine.
So, on the corner of Speer and Market there's always this guy. He's not threatening. He's not pushy. In fact, he never actually looks at me. But I look at him. I wonder if he feels me looking and if it feels like I am looking down. That's not light.
Then, there's also common sense. Some guys who approach me in Denver have the most liquored breath; handing them anything valuable is like handing them a bottle. So, how can I help?
Well, I support the City Union Mission. That's a start, right? Sure. I also give to the church, which gives to the convention which serves the inner city. That's another good start, right? Sure.
But like most Americans, I am conditioned to replace action with transference. I transfer my own work, my own involvement and my own positive impact to cash - then expect someone else to shine my light for me. It's shameful. But, I'm lazy.
I'm going to have to think more about this.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
I'm Third
I love this classic story from Kanakuk!
Philippians 2
3 Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. 4 Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. 5 Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.
----
Out of the sun, packed in a diamond formation and flying as one that day, the Minute Men dove at nearly the speed of sound toward a tiny emerald patch on Ohio’s unwrinkled crazy quilt below. It was a little after nine on the morning of June 7, 1958, and the destination of the Air National Guard’s jet precision team was the famed Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, just outside Dayton.
On the ground, thousands of faces looked upward as Colonel Walt Williams, leader of the Denver-based Sabrejet team, gauged a high-speed pullout. For the Minute Men pilots—Colonel Williams, Captain Bob Cherry, Lieutenant Bob Odle, Captain John Ferrier, and Major Win Coomer—the maneuver was routine, for they had given their show hundreds of times before millions of people.
Low across the fresh, green grass the jet stream streaked, far ahead of the noise of the planes’ own screaming engines. Judging his pull-up, Colonel Williams pressed the microphone button on top of his throttle: “Smoke on—how!” The diamond of planes pulled straight up into the turquoise sky, a bush tail of white smoke pluming out behind. The crowd gasped as the four ships suddenly split apart, rolling to the four points of the compass and leaving a beautiful, smoky fleur-de-lis inscribed on the heavens. This was the Minute Men’s famed “flower burst” maneuver. For a minute the crowd relaxed, gazing at the tranquil beauty of the huge, white flower that had grown from the lush Ohio grasslands to fill the great bowl of sky.
Out on the end of his stem of the flower, Colonel Williams turned his Sabre hard, cut off the smoke trail, and dropped the nose of his F86 to pick up speed for the low-altitude crossover maneuver. Then, glancing back over his shoulder, he froze in terror. Far across the sky to the east, John Ferrier’s plane was rolling. He was in trouble. And his plane was headed right for the small town of Fairborn, on the edge of Patterson Field. In a moment, the lovely morning had turned to horror. Everyone saw; everyone understood. One of the planes was out of control.
Steering his jet in the direction of the crippled plane to race after it, Williams radioed urgently, “Bail out, John! Get out of there!” Ferrier still had plenty of time and room to eject safely. Twice more Williams issued the command: “Bail out, Johnny! Bail out!”
Each time, Williams was answered only by a blip of smoke.
He understood immediately. John Ferrier couldn’t reach the mike button on the throttle because both hands were tugging on a control stick locked in full-throw right. But the smoke button was on the stick, so he was answering the only way he could—squeezing it to tell Walt he thought he could keep his plane under enough control to avoid crashing into the houses of Fairborn.
Suddenly, a terrible explosion shook the earth. Then came a haunting silence. Walt Williams continued to call through the radio, “Johnny? Are you there? Captain, answer me!”
No response.
Major Win Coomer, who had flown with Ferrier for years, both in the Air National Guard and with United Airlines, and who had served a combat tour with him in Korea, was the first Minute Man to land. He raced to the crash scene, hoping to find his friend alive.
Instead, he found a neighborhood in shock from the awful thing that had happened. Captain John T. Ferrier’s Sabrejet had hit the ground midway between four houses, in a backyard garden. It was the only place where he could have crashed without killing people. The explosion had knocked a woman and several children to the ground, but no one had been hurt, with the exception of Johnny Ferrier. He had been killed instantly. A steady stream of people began coming to Coomer as he stood in his flying suit beside the smoking, gaping hole in the ground where his best friend had just died.
“A bunch of us were standing together, watching the show,” as elderly man with tears in his eyes told Coomer. “When the pilot started to roll, he was headed straight for us. For a second, we looked right at each other. Then he pulled up right over us and put it in there.”
In deep humility, the old man whispered, “This man died for us.”
A few days after this tragic accident, John Ferrier’s wife, Tulle, found a worn card in his billfold. On it were the words “I’m Third.” That simple phrase exemplified the life—and death—of this courageous man. For him, God came first, others second, and himself third.
True to his philosophy, John Ferrier sacrificed his life for people he had never met. If you ever found yourself in a similar situation, would you do the same?
(http://www.nickfessler.com/Wisdom/Im_Third.html)
Philippians 2
3 Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. 4 Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. 5 Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.
----
Out of the sun, packed in a diamond formation and flying as one that day, the Minute Men dove at nearly the speed of sound toward a tiny emerald patch on Ohio’s unwrinkled crazy quilt below. It was a little after nine on the morning of June 7, 1958, and the destination of the Air National Guard’s jet precision team was the famed Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, just outside Dayton.
On the ground, thousands of faces looked upward as Colonel Walt Williams, leader of the Denver-based Sabrejet team, gauged a high-speed pullout. For the Minute Men pilots—Colonel Williams, Captain Bob Cherry, Lieutenant Bob Odle, Captain John Ferrier, and Major Win Coomer—the maneuver was routine, for they had given their show hundreds of times before millions of people.
Low across the fresh, green grass the jet stream streaked, far ahead of the noise of the planes’ own screaming engines. Judging his pull-up, Colonel Williams pressed the microphone button on top of his throttle: “Smoke on—how!” The diamond of planes pulled straight up into the turquoise sky, a bush tail of white smoke pluming out behind. The crowd gasped as the four ships suddenly split apart, rolling to the four points of the compass and leaving a beautiful, smoky fleur-de-lis inscribed on the heavens. This was the Minute Men’s famed “flower burst” maneuver. For a minute the crowd relaxed, gazing at the tranquil beauty of the huge, white flower that had grown from the lush Ohio grasslands to fill the great bowl of sky.
Out on the end of his stem of the flower, Colonel Williams turned his Sabre hard, cut off the smoke trail, and dropped the nose of his F86 to pick up speed for the low-altitude crossover maneuver. Then, glancing back over his shoulder, he froze in terror. Far across the sky to the east, John Ferrier’s plane was rolling. He was in trouble. And his plane was headed right for the small town of Fairborn, on the edge of Patterson Field. In a moment, the lovely morning had turned to horror. Everyone saw; everyone understood. One of the planes was out of control.
Steering his jet in the direction of the crippled plane to race after it, Williams radioed urgently, “Bail out, John! Get out of there!” Ferrier still had plenty of time and room to eject safely. Twice more Williams issued the command: “Bail out, Johnny! Bail out!”
Each time, Williams was answered only by a blip of smoke.
He understood immediately. John Ferrier couldn’t reach the mike button on the throttle because both hands were tugging on a control stick locked in full-throw right. But the smoke button was on the stick, so he was answering the only way he could—squeezing it to tell Walt he thought he could keep his plane under enough control to avoid crashing into the houses of Fairborn.
Suddenly, a terrible explosion shook the earth. Then came a haunting silence. Walt Williams continued to call through the radio, “Johnny? Are you there? Captain, answer me!”
No response.
Major Win Coomer, who had flown with Ferrier for years, both in the Air National Guard and with United Airlines, and who had served a combat tour with him in Korea, was the first Minute Man to land. He raced to the crash scene, hoping to find his friend alive.
Instead, he found a neighborhood in shock from the awful thing that had happened. Captain John T. Ferrier’s Sabrejet had hit the ground midway between four houses, in a backyard garden. It was the only place where he could have crashed without killing people. The explosion had knocked a woman and several children to the ground, but no one had been hurt, with the exception of Johnny Ferrier. He had been killed instantly. A steady stream of people began coming to Coomer as he stood in his flying suit beside the smoking, gaping hole in the ground where his best friend had just died.
“A bunch of us were standing together, watching the show,” as elderly man with tears in his eyes told Coomer. “When the pilot started to roll, he was headed straight for us. For a second, we looked right at each other. Then he pulled up right over us and put it in there.”
In deep humility, the old man whispered, “This man died for us.”
A few days after this tragic accident, John Ferrier’s wife, Tulle, found a worn card in his billfold. On it were the words “I’m Third.” That simple phrase exemplified the life—and death—of this courageous man. For him, God came first, others second, and himself third.
True to his philosophy, John Ferrier sacrificed his life for people he had never met. If you ever found yourself in a similar situation, would you do the same?
(http://www.nickfessler.com/Wisdom/Im_Third.html)
Monday, July 11, 2005
Seven Years Today
Time waits for no man. There's no stopping it. As if my birthday was not bad enough, today is my 7 year wedding anniversary proving that regardless of anything, the clock hands continue to turn.
I met Kyndall in college. We married three years after and moved to Virginia. Two years later we move to Colorado. In the following five years we had our two daughters.
The two of us have changed over this near-decade but fundamentally we are the same. The most fascinating is that the things I used to love about Kyndall were so superficial - the way she looked, the things she did, stuff like that. Today I far more appreciate the way she is, the inside portions that define those mutable qualities I initially noticed. Don't get me wrong, I like the superficial stuff as much as the next guy, but that would not have likely gotten us to 7 and it surely wouldn't get us to 50.
Happy Anniversary.
I met Kyndall in college. We married three years after and moved to Virginia. Two years later we move to Colorado. In the following five years we had our two daughters.
The two of us have changed over this near-decade but fundamentally we are the same. The most fascinating is that the things I used to love about Kyndall were so superficial - the way she looked, the things she did, stuff like that. Today I far more appreciate the way she is, the inside portions that define those mutable qualities I initially noticed. Don't get me wrong, I like the superficial stuff as much as the next guy, but that would not have likely gotten us to 7 and it surely wouldn't get us to 50.
Happy Anniversary.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Walt Disney World, Florida
Disney World is pretty cool. Kyndall and I just got back from the happiest place on earth and with few regrets. Anna Laura and Alexandria thought they were visiting heaven with all the characters, rides and - of course - the princesses.
We had worried that the girls (age 1 and 2) would not remember the visit and that we should wait. What a goofy thought (no pun intended). Why were we wanting to make lifetime memories, the girls are here now and we seized the moment.
We stayed at the Double Tree, because it was nearby, inexpensive and was a suite, so we could put the girls to bed and still move around in the room. That was the right decision for us this time, but I look forward to the time when we can stay at the Disney's Contemporary. I have not seen the rooms, but the location and short, direct monorail connection to the park makes it the hands down winner.
Kyndall was smart enough to find out ahead of time that you have to reserve good on-campus restaurants 4+ weeks in advance. We ate the first night at Chef Mickey (inside Disney's Contemporary hotel). This let the girls really get saturated with the characters and relieved us from having to stand in line at the park (in the heat) so they could meet them. Later the girls also had breakfast in Norway at Epcot where the princesses will come to your table.
Our days were neat because we often would go to one park in the morning, then bring the girls back for midday naps, then go to a different part in the afternoon. In order to do this we had to buy a hopper pass.
Disney tickets were complicated to buy, but not as expensive as I expected. We ended up buying on the Disney website and paying only $1 extra per ticket over so-called ticket broker sites. Get this, a 4 day hopper was $220, but a 5 day was $221, a 6 day was $221, and a 7 day was $223 and so on. It was crazy.
Because it was not a big cost to go longer and because I would already be there for Microsoft TechEd (a conference for software developers), Kyndall got a 8 day and the girls (since they are under 3) got in free.
I just went for three days and added the no expire option to my ticket. What a mistake. It added $50 to the cost of my ticket, but the odds of me only needing 3-4 days next time we go is unlikely. Kyndall will want to add days for a $1 for hew new ticket and I won't be able to because adding a day will mean having to buy a new ticket all over again. What I should have done is not get the no expire and just suck it up that I would buy a brand new ticket the next time we go.
Other than that one snafu, it is fair to point out that after 8 days, the girls were sick of Disney World. Now that we are home, they talk about It's a Small World and other rides constantly. It was great and if they can bring themselves to forget the experience, Kyndall and I will remember it for them.
We had worried that the girls (age 1 and 2) would not remember the visit and that we should wait. What a goofy thought (no pun intended). Why were we wanting to make lifetime memories, the girls are here now and we seized the moment.
We stayed at the Double Tree, because it was nearby, inexpensive and was a suite, so we could put the girls to bed and still move around in the room. That was the right decision for us this time, but I look forward to the time when we can stay at the Disney's Contemporary. I have not seen the rooms, but the location and short, direct monorail connection to the park makes it the hands down winner.
Kyndall was smart enough to find out ahead of time that you have to reserve good on-campus restaurants 4+ weeks in advance. We ate the first night at Chef Mickey (inside Disney's Contemporary hotel). This let the girls really get saturated with the characters and relieved us from having to stand in line at the park (in the heat) so they could meet them. Later the girls also had breakfast in Norway at Epcot where the princesses will come to your table.
Our days were neat because we often would go to one park in the morning, then bring the girls back for midday naps, then go to a different part in the afternoon. In order to do this we had to buy a hopper pass.
Disney tickets were complicated to buy, but not as expensive as I expected. We ended up buying on the Disney website and paying only $1 extra per ticket over so-called ticket broker sites. Get this, a 4 day hopper was $220, but a 5 day was $221, a 6 day was $221, and a 7 day was $223 and so on. It was crazy.
Because it was not a big cost to go longer and because I would already be there for Microsoft TechEd (a conference for software developers), Kyndall got a 8 day and the girls (since they are under 3) got in free.
I just went for three days and added the no expire option to my ticket. What a mistake. It added $50 to the cost of my ticket, but the odds of me only needing 3-4 days next time we go is unlikely. Kyndall will want to add days for a $1 for hew new ticket and I won't be able to because adding a day will mean having to buy a new ticket all over again. What I should have done is not get the no expire and just suck it up that I would buy a brand new ticket the next time we go.
Other than that one snafu, it is fair to point out that after 8 days, the girls were sick of Disney World. Now that we are home, they talk about It's a Small World and other rides constantly. It was great and if they can bring themselves to forget the experience, Kyndall and I will remember it for them.
Timeshare
Allow me to share a lesson learned with timeshares. The allure of timeshares never interested me. I prided myself on a life fraught with spontaneous travels and city-jumping agendas. The notion of a single room for a whole week was ridiculous.
Then my wife had to go and get pregnant! I love saying it like that. We're at two and looking towards three, and to put it frankly, kids aren't a bunch of fun on long plane trips. Plus under 5 they don't appreciate the subtleties of a culture.
Unexpectedly overwhelmed by the seeming deal of a Mayan Palace timeshare Kyndall and I became owners. Overcome with remorse we returned the timeshare, compliant with Mexican rules, and only costing us the delta of our original room cost with that of the upgraded room they "gave" us.
Here's our deal in short. It was $18k for a single bedroom, regular Mayan, every other year for 25 years. The annual maintenance was $460, subject to a 5% increase cap. Additionally, every 5 years we had to pay our maintenance fee one extra time as a "new furniture" fee.
Look at this math:
$18,000 - up front cost
$11,469 - maintenance over 25 years
$03,257 - furniture fee over 25 years
$32,726 - total cost
$02,517 - average per week (13 weeks)
$00,360 - average per night (7 nights per week)
In the end, it was the numbers that got us out. The nightly cost is insane no matter what they argue about the inflationary nature of room costs. Instead of buying, we're renting from other owners and spending an average $171 a night at the Grand Mayan (a substantial upgrade from the regular Mayan).
Final tip: Here's where to go http://sellmytimesharenow.com - you get all the benefits of being an owner without having the commitment, the upfront cost, or the recurring maintenance fee. If it turns out you hate a resort, just stop going there - you don't "own" it after all.
Then my wife had to go and get pregnant! I love saying it like that. We're at two and looking towards three, and to put it frankly, kids aren't a bunch of fun on long plane trips. Plus under 5 they don't appreciate the subtleties of a culture.
Unexpectedly overwhelmed by the seeming deal of a Mayan Palace timeshare Kyndall and I became owners. Overcome with remorse we returned the timeshare, compliant with Mexican rules, and only costing us the delta of our original room cost with that of the upgraded room they "gave" us.
Here's our deal in short. It was $18k for a single bedroom, regular Mayan, every other year for 25 years. The annual maintenance was $460, subject to a 5% increase cap. Additionally, every 5 years we had to pay our maintenance fee one extra time as a "new furniture" fee.
Look at this math:
$18,000 - up front cost
$11,469 - maintenance over 25 years
$03,257 - furniture fee over 25 years
$32,726 - total cost
$02,517 - average per week (13 weeks)
$00,360 - average per night (7 nights per week)
In the end, it was the numbers that got us out. The nightly cost is insane no matter what they argue about the inflationary nature of room costs. Instead of buying, we're renting from other owners and spending an average $171 a night at the Grand Mayan (a substantial upgrade from the regular Mayan).
Final tip: Here's where to go http://sellmytimesharenow.com - you get all the benefits of being an owner without having the commitment, the upfront cost, or the recurring maintenance fee. If it turns out you hate a resort, just stop going there - you don't "own" it after all.
Battlestar Galactica
"There are those who believe... that life here... began out there. Far across the universe. With tribes of humans... who may have been the forefathers of the Egyptians... or the Toltecs... or the Mayans... that they may have been the architects of the Great Pyramids... or the lost civilizations of Lemuria... or Atlantis... Some believe that there may yet be brothers of man... who even now fight to survive... somewhere beyond the heavens."
I have always loved that opening line of the original Battlestar Galactica; when I was a kid I often daydreamed of being a Colonial Warrior, saving mankind from the emminent threats of the Cylons.
My favorites, of course, were stoic Lorn Greene as Commander Adama and the go-getter Starbuck whose ex-prostitute love, Cassiopeia, still remains one of the best female names I have ever heard.
Last night, NBC showed the cliff hanger of last season's remake of Battlestar Galactica.
I have seen the 2004 remade mini series (a la WinMX) but not the first season as it is on the Sci Fi channel and I don't get that station. I can appreciate the changes they made, although I always hate the urge to make science fiction "darker" but it seems the way of things.
What do I really miss? Two things. I miss the opening and closing lines - and with Starbuck cast now as a girl, she has no ex-prostitute love named Cassiopeia.
Here's the original closing line:
"Fleeing from the Cylon Tyrany, the last Battlestar, Galactica, leads a rag-tag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest for a shining planet called, Earth."
I have always loved that opening line of the original Battlestar Galactica; when I was a kid I often daydreamed of being a Colonial Warrior, saving mankind from the emminent threats of the Cylons.
My favorites, of course, were stoic Lorn Greene as Commander Adama and the go-getter Starbuck whose ex-prostitute love, Cassiopeia, still remains one of the best female names I have ever heard.
Last night, NBC showed the cliff hanger of last season's remake of Battlestar Galactica.
I have seen the 2004 remade mini series (a la WinMX) but not the first season as it is on the Sci Fi channel and I don't get that station. I can appreciate the changes they made, although I always hate the urge to make science fiction "darker" but it seems the way of things.
What do I really miss? Two things. I miss the opening and closing lines - and with Starbuck cast now as a girl, she has no ex-prostitute love named Cassiopeia.
Here's the original closing line:
"Fleeing from the Cylon Tyrany, the last Battlestar, Galactica, leads a rag-tag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest for a shining planet called, Earth."
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