in the words of David Crowder

You are not the only one who feels like the only one.

control freak?

Are you willing to let God surprise you?

a fading grip

Are you holding onto something you can't have, at the expense of losing what you've always wanted?

peanut butter soup

Part of my reason for not blogging more often is due to the time it soaks out of my day. For instance, I've been sitting here for about an hour now, trying to digest my thoughts, but one tangent keeps leading to the next. Apparently I need to chew on this one some more, but here are some of the highlights:

I had no idea my friends from Texas were still in middle school...

I remember what it's like to be the guy who gives all he can and never gets noticed.

I can relate to Charlie Brown all too well when he says, "Everything I ever try always fails."


Praise the Lord those are memories, not prophecies.

A Fireside Story

Once upon a time there was a boy tall, dark, and handsome; in stature and in appearance. While he was tending to his usual business one morning he noticed a rather strange odor -not unlike sour cheese. A quizzical look came upon his face as he wondered what could possibly be the source of such a stench. It was then that he took note of his feet which had recently be removed from their stockings and boots. "Could it be?" thought the boy as he pulled his foot closer to his nose in a rather awkward manner, such as would cause his peers to laugh at him if they had witnessed such a sight. "Great Scott!" he exclaimed, for it was indeed his very own feet producing such a repulsive scent. Then, like any smart boy, he simply put on a clean pair of socks in hopes of confining the stench. The clean socks offered a wonderful solution, and the boy resumed his work, this time with such a look of satisfaction that expressed his delight and ingenuity.

About five minutes later the aroma returned uninvited. "These socks must be defective!" the boy thought now with a growing frustration. "Perhaps the smell is just lingering from before. It will pass," and he continued about his business stubbornly ignoring the smell until it became too much to bear. He ripped the socks off his feet and tossed them in the hamper (although it did cross his mind that perhaps they would make a lovely addition to his sister's bed...) on his way to the bathroom. And there, sitting on the bathroom counter with his feet basking in the warm water of the sink that he thought, "Perhaps this is how Jesus felt when he washed the feet of his disciples...." And so was the account of the boy and his feet.