Life Doesn’t Always Imitate Art

Posted on December 21, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

Many years ago, our children received a board game for Christmas that mimicked real life. The description and the instructions for the game weren’t needed. The game was simply called Life. The object of the game was basic; buy a house, get married, pay bills, and see if you had enough gas or money to make it to retirement acres with your hair and dignity intact. I must admit that at first I was excited about the game. It had the potential of instructing my children in fiscal responsibility under the guise of being fun. After 15 minutes of playing the game however, I realized that playing the game as a prep course for life would be as useless as buying a Monopoly game to prepare for a real estate exam.

My excitement short lived, I spun the dice and set out on my quest for a suitable life vocation. My oldest son opted not to go to college; he wanted to be a professional basketball player. I knew the game was a stretch because I’ve never seen a 4-foot ten-inch guard in the NBA.I had overestimated the worth of the game when his salary was a woeful $20,000 a year. Considering that most professional basketball players make the the yearly equivalent salary of the gross national product of Chile, I was in for surprises.

Two rolls of the dice later, I found myself practicing medicine, married, toting six young children in my dilapidated station wagon, living in a rundown mobile home behind on my taxes. My first piece of reality beside the salary was the taxes. Fully half my board game salary went to paying taxes. The easiest question to answer was how could a physician live in a rundown mobile home? That’s easy, it’s the new norm for doctors under Obamacare. I had to choose between malpractice insurance and indoor plumbing. Poverty did offer a significant and unforeseen benefit. The fire in the bathroom was contained and covered by our fire insurance so it never spread to the house. It pays to have an outhouse.

My station wagon and four spontaneous generation children later, I was fast approaching my retirement years with my dignity and hair mostly intact. I did get two bonus cards that read, “collect $150,000 for developing a non-creeping swimsuit, and “collect $15,000 for a self peeling potato.” Sadly I finished the game NOT in Millionaire Acres but Retirement Acres. After taxes with only a few spare dollars to my name, my son the basketball star had to move in with me. After his sports career was over he had no money left after he foolishly spent his money on gold diggers. Hey wait a minute, a child moving back in with his parents and having no money? Maybe this game does teach haunting realism.

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I Got a Lump of Coal

Posted on December 19, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

Have you ever expected something to be wonderful and in reality, it never came close to your expectations? I remember vividly an incident that happened to me when I was in college. I was working in broadcast radio. The station had the broadcast wattage of a light bulb. Somehow, somewhere, an old lady became my number one fan. She would call me for requests, ask me to come to her home for a home cooked meal, and I did. Numerous times I trekked to a little one horse town in north central Texas and sat at her table to eat her cooking. She was a lovely lady who was extremely petite. Her home was built by her husband who had been barely five feet tall, so it was like visiting the “Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe.” The ceilings in her home were only just higher than 6 feet tall.

Being the motherly type, she was always trying to “find” me a girl. One day she called me at my radio station all excited, she had found the sweetest girl for me. Hesitant on my part, she insisted on coming to the station to personally introduce her to me. A few hours later as my shift ended, she came to the station to lead me out to the parking lot. As my eyes fell on the young woman I thought, “I’m sure she is lovely”, but if I had taken her on a date to see Mt. Rushmore, I wouldn’t have been able to see Mt. Rushmore. She made me look like a pipe cleaner. Needless to say, despite the exchanging of pleasantries I never took up her invitation to call her again. I envisioned our first date at the Mighty Burger where, like the Flintstones, they would deliver the Brontosaurus Burger on a tray that clips to the car window and promptly the car tips over from the weight. I learned a powerful lesson on false expectations that day.

Some months ago, I received a letter from a law firm. It sounded too good to be true. A major bank I had done business with in the past, had been sued for illegally charging unfair bounced check fees. The bank had willfully withheld funds, manipulated deposits, and gave delayed information to the consumer in hopes that the consumer would bounce checks and the bank would garner higher fees. The letter from a distant law firm had said that my name had been added to a class-action lawsuit and I would share in the claim of the ill-gotten funds.

The letter left me smiling. I heard the birds singing more loudly, the flowers looked more lovely, my wife more ravishing. I was giddy. The wait for news seemed to take forever. Months passed as I anxiously awaited what my portion of the booty would be. The letter finally arrived last week. My heart rate accelerated as I envisioned what I could buy with my money. Maybe a nice small gift for my wife, or maybe I could pay off a bill. As I opened the letter from the firm of Dewey, Cheatem, & How, my eyes fell directly on the amount. I was stunned; I couldn’t believe the amount. Where would I spend my whole $2.18? I was going to write to the trial lawyers and tell them to keep the coal since I got the shaft, but they’re not in. I think they’re working hard on their tans in a tropical location, grinning from ear to ear.

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God Still Cries!

Posted on December 16, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

In the sleepy little town of Newtown, Connecticut, this place has achieved what few have been able to accomplish; combine the rural charm of a small New England town with the sophistication of a metropolitan suburb. Townspeople love calling this place home. It has a Frank Capra like feel from the movie, “It’s a wonderful life.”

The day seemed like any other day; a tad bit hectic before the Christmas holiday. I imagine a small child, with blond hair like an angel, no doubt anxious to get to school. A little boy she fancied had promised to give her a gift today. It was Christmas after all and when you like someone, you can’t help but show it with a little present. Every home with school aged children, hustled and bustled in the predawn hours to hurriedly eat breakfast and meet the bus to school.

I envision Mom’s and Dad’s so busy to prepare for their own day of deadlines and responsibilities that some may have even missed the usual kiss as each child shuffled out the door in their hats and gloves. It’s one of the regrets we have in life that we don’t slow down enough to do the most important things.

I imagine as the children raced into the classrooms and began to chatter about the day, teachers busied themselves in keeping their little “cherubs” focused. “One more day closer to the Christmas break” the teachers thought. But today would be different. This idyllic town would not know that within the hour, it would see the face of evil.

Today as I reflect on the tragedy of that fateful Friday and the aftermath of the greatest school shooting in our nation’s history, I can barely hold back my emotions. As one newscast blurred into the next, my heart felt as if it would burst. As pictures of the smiling little children whose lives were snuffed out were shown on the news, I ached like I had lost one of my very own children.

The collective conscious of our nation now asks the burning question, “How could someone do such an unspeakable act? How could one inflict so great a senseless crime on those so innocent? In conversations and social media pages everywhere, the question asked most frequently is, “Where was God?”

Scripture tells us that He allows the nourishing rain to fall on the just and the unjust. If He allows good to fall on both, would it be incorrect to assume that because of free choice He also allows the bad to fall on both as well?

As His ambassador, I can’t answer in His words, but I can defend Him. God is complex. How can the same God allow tragedy on one side of the earth yet provide a miracle for someone else thousands of miles away? How does the same God who receives requests from broken hearted families that the shooter rot in hell, take the request of the same perpetrator’s family that begs for His mercy because the shooter was such a sick man?

In John 16:33, Jesus boldly warned and promised “I told you these things so that you can have peace in me. In this world you will have trouble, but be brave! I have defeated the world.” Lamentations 3:33 says, “For He (God) does not willingly from His heart afflict or grieve the children of men.”

No words can make sense of the Newtown tragedy. The only thing that offers me comfort is found in Revelation 22:20 where Jesus says, “Surely I come quickly”.

As I view the faces of the townspeople and families of Newtown, and share in their indescribable loss, it solidifies my belief in God’s humanity that He still cries. I know He must, because I was made in His image, and I cried today.

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No More Apologies, Please!

Posted on December 14, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

It seems like over the past twenty years, a philosophy has made it’s way into our country’s psyche. Make an apology, and everything will miraculously be alright. It’s as if we are living our lives through the pages of the National Enquirer. I have seen public figures apologize for hitting, kicking, and abusing others. I have seen television evangelists apologize for going astray, I have even seen actors who portrayed good cops themselves, being thrown in jail for tax evasion and abuse. Yet, with a quick, I”m sorry”, everyone feels good about the individual and they are restored with nary a bump in the road. My problem is I haven’t heard this many insincere apologies since I was on the playground in kindergarten.

The President of the United States has a knack for apologizing for things that didn’t even happen yesterday, but century’s ago. An apology doesn’t change the past. It purports to make us feel collectively sorry. Politicians know the benefit of apologies. If you can say I’m sorry for someone else’s transgression, you can appear to be caring without garnering much criticism. Maybe you’re like me. I don’t want meaningless apologies! I just want to have faith in my fellow man that they will do the right thing and will treat each other and me with respect.

I have decided in the public interest so that we no longer have to endure anymore public apologies in the future, to make amends here.
I want to apologize for our past and current mistakes so that we can finally get on with our lives.

I want to apologize for rap music, lava lamps, leisure suits, purple eye shadow, Kim Kardashian, and Justin Bieber. I also want to apologize for spam mail, MTV, junk mail, rude drivers, the IRS, spandex, Black Friday, political commercials, saggy pants, and Speedos on pudgy men. Okay, I take the last one back; Speedos on ALL men.

I feel so much better now, don’t you?

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