I don’t know why some go hungry. I don’t know why some steal from others. I don’t know why a person makes the decision to step outside of their marriage to find fulfillment. I don’t know why it isn’t possible for all those who want children to be able to have them.

I believe you are my healer.

I don’t know why friends betray each other. I don’t know why tragic accidents have to happen. I don’t know why cancer has to exist. I don’t know why people hate someone because they have a different color of skin. I don’t know why children have to watch their world be shattered by divorce.

I believe you are all I need.

I don’t know why war is the answer. I don’t know why people run from their problems. I don’t know why the drunk  chose that night to drive, ending a life. I don’t know why so much money, time and effort is spent to keep control that isn’t ours.

I believe you are my portion.

I don’t know why you give so much grace. I don’t know why I make the same mistakes over and over. I don’t know why so many deny God.

Jesus, you are all I need.


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Excuse me,…were you talking to me?

The way I see it, everyone falls into two camps. People who talk to themselves, and people who don’t. Although, I wonder if there should be a third, people who talk to themselves but would deny it to their grave. I can remember very vividly my dad mowing the lawn carrying on as if he was standing in the pulpit on Sunday morning. It was as if the act of pulling the cord on the lawnmower threw him into his own world where no one could see or hear him. It was in that world that he would practice his sermons. When it was a particularly good one he would even wave his arms. I would watch him from my bedroom and say, to myself of course, “He does it too!” But of course when my mom would catch him and start to laugh with my sister about how funny dad was, I would join in because only crazy people talk to themselves, right? So I guess I started off in the denial camp.

For all of us self-talkers there is no better place to solve the world’s problems than in the car. I love driving to and from work watching for others who are just a little too animated to be having phone conversation. This can be a little embarrassing though when you get caught mid rant and some soccer mom with an SUV full of kids is staring at you with that surprised look on her face that tells you she is assessing her children’s safety. This is when I am forced to admit that my half hearted attempt to bob my head and act as if I was merely groovin’ to the music didn’t work. I will often catch myself, in full denial knowing that my music ploy didn’t work, drumming the steering wheel to my imaginary beat as if to say to the onlooker, “No no no. Really! This is an amazing song!”.  It never works though. “Anyway where was I? Oh yeah,”….

So my question is, are self-talkers in fact a few fries short of a happy meal, or are we just misunderstood by the “quiet ones”? Oh the poor quiet ones. They are missing out. There is something so therapeutic that comes from having a one-sided argument. Or telling your wife what you really think about whatever the “issue” happens to be. That way you get the dumb insensitive guy comments off your chest and when you are face-to-face you say the right things that don’t cause another argument. It’s brilliant. So go and talk away. Blow off your steam in the car. You will be a happier person. Trust me, I heard it from myself just the other day.


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Ready or not!…Here I come!

I’ve been a blog peeper for quite a while now. Sneaking around checking out who has more problems than me, where did so and so go on vacation, who thinks their kids are the cutest…or the naughtiest.  I feel like I have worn out my free trial membership and to avoid being creepy should have my own blog so others can carry out their voyeristic tendencies. The thing I love about blogs is they allow anyone to be an author. How cool to think that someone’s bummer of google search might land them right smack in the middle of me ranting and raving about this or that. Americans being who we are (yes I realize it is called the WORLD wide web), we are going to look “to see how screwed up this guy is.” Well before you get to far I feel I need to state a few things about me.

First, I am the kind of guy who thinks what I think, period. That’s not to say my mind can’t be changed but usually ist’s pretty tough to do. My spiritual beliefs are one of the few areas that cannot be changed. I believe God of the bible is THE one true and only God. Although, I respect the fact that people believe many diferent things than I do.

Second, If you read something here that makes you mad, shocked or otherwise fired up, my answer will most likely be ” I’m sorry you feel that way.” Remember this is my blog. Don’t tell me what to do. I am a pretty darn sarcastic person. Chances are I was kidding. Life is too short not to laugh. So lighten up. If that isn’t working, have a beer.

Finally, There is something theraputic about writing down your thoughts. I can remember being in high school in writing class being forced to journal. I always had things I wanted to write that I thought were relavent to life in the moment but I never wrote them because I didn’t want to upset the teacher causing a conference with my parents or something. You also never knew when you’d get a teacher that holds a grudge and if I wrote ” My teacher is a douchebag.  Why can’t I have a cool teacher like Charlie Moore form Head of the Class? I bet this guy has never even wanted to hitch a ride on the tailgait of a pick up on the way to school while reading the paper. I can’t think about grammar and run on sentences when there is this really hot chick sitting next to me…” This would have satisfied the freewriting requirement but some how I think it might have affected my grade. Well now that I’m in my thirties and most of my teachers are collecting their retirements, which I pay for, I don’t have to worry about that. I can write what makes me feel good. That makes me happy.

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