Is a portrait still a portrait if you look at it from the backside?

I came home from class yesterday, and Keen was setting at the computer in the living-room. He promptly looked up and excitedly told me about how a complete stranger came up to him after his basketball game and shook his hand. The man highly complemented him and told him that he has what it takes to be in the pros! With that, Keen turned back to the computer and stated, with a hint of remorse, "My life in the NFL is over."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before reading this next story, one should know that we just painted the house a few months ago.

Keen brought in the mail this evening, and as he was announcing each item, he read the bold print on the Sears envelop, "Brian Menefee, never paint your house again!" Kendra spoke up, in a voice of disgust, "How rude! What? Do they think you didn't do a good enough job?"

Perspective

I was late for work this morning, because the silly "foster dog" got loose twice (anybody want a free, golden husky? I'm not joking). Then, we spent most of the work day blowing insulation in an attic. Since I was already filthy, I decided to clean the loft of the barn when I got home. I tried to burn some of our huge brush and lumber pile, but it was too wet. Then, I worked until twilight digging 8 fence-post holes. Of course, a Home Depot trip had to be worked in to the day, so I picked up over 600 pound of concrete. Finally, I got the last load of dirty (and wet, due the the flooded basement) laundry is in the washer. I just realised; I missed supper.

Thank You, Lord, for... the low-stress job, the dirty barn, the rain, the brush pile (for hot dogs and marshmallows), the health to do manual labor, the new fence, a basement, clothes to get dirty (and the kids that dirty them), and... my ice cream :o)

Learning to step into other worlds

Today offered a unique adventure. Tawnya Smith and I visited the Hindu Temple for their Monday morning service. They were very hospitable and encouraged our questions. It was all so strange to us; we didn't know what to ask. The experience alone was educational. It was a hour of foreign chants and rituals that simply fascinated me. I figure, their gods must have short attention spans, because they kept having to repeat themselves so much.

The comic relief came when, in mid-service, a woman scolded what seemed to be the head priest for cutting the chants too short. "This used to take an hour, and that was only 30 minutes. I don't know what you did to it, but you need to keep going." I guess she didn't feel like she was getting her money's worth. Can you imagine someone speaking up in one of our services, "Pastor, your prayer and sermon were too short; keep going." (Ouch! That's not so comical anymore...now I'm convicted.)

The silly, God-like irony though was the obvious, big, red zit that I had between my eyebrows.

Saturday priority problems

I searched all day for my inspiration to clean the house. I never did find it. Perhaps it's under the pile of papers on my desk or in the heap of coats on the chair. It couldn't have possibly found its way into the dishwasher, could it?

I shouldn't say, really, that I searched all day. I gave up rather early on, and the thought of it simply hunted me all day. Instead, I fled to Home Depot and spent more of my tax return. There really ought to be a support group for that, or a 12 step program of some kind. No, better yet, 3 steps (I'm easily lost or distracted).

Stop reading between the lines; I can't think that fast

It seems there are phases of life that have themes. The phase may last a few days, weeks, or even months; it's like God's trying to teach me something specific. The theme for now seems to be worldviews and the art of communicating between them. It's amazing how you can live, work and/or worship with someone and realize you have completely different perspectives on the same issue or situation.

I found myself in a one-on-one conversation with a friend today, and it was as if they where having a completely different conversation (Note: I have learned not to make negative stereotypes of the entire opposite gender, BUT one has to admit that this social anomaly occurs most often when I'm talking to one of them). By the end, she was in tears and I was speechless (or perhaps I should say, I was afraid to open my mouth again).

so many details, so little brain

In planning for this summer, I was well ahead of the game. I got my passport back with a surprisingly good photo (I don't look like I'm on drugs at least). With that, I assumed I was ready to leave the country. Then, I got an email from my coordinator (This used to be Pat Rider's job, but now the poor soul's name is Mike S. You might want to remember him in your prayers.) He needed my passport so that he could get my visas. Oh, yes...of course, so eventually I got it in the mail to him (Thank you, Elaine, for the extra $.17 postage and the extra large envelope).

Well, today I got a large envelope in the mail from NMSI! I was so excited. Is it more info about the trip, the culture, the missionaries? Is it support receipts? No, it's my passport!? "Wow, that was fast and easy," I thought. No, the passport was still blank --with a post-it note, "Hey Brian, We need it signed or it isn't valid. Thanks! Mike"

Back to the basics with new attitude and perspective

I'm sure it's no secret that I'm a slow learner, but I still feel embarrassed (and yet obligated) to make a confession in order to share a "simple" truth that I'm only beginning to comprehend. For years, I have had the heart to serve. I've wanted to be involved in the Lord's work, to help build The Kingdom in whatever way the Lord leads. Here am I; send me. What can I do?

This is all good, but somehow the purpose got lost in the effort. I became so task oriented and more focused on what I was (or could be) doing that I overlooked many of the people God wanted me to touch. At one point, a few of my trusted friends and I were talking, and one of them was comparing me to another and quite frankly said, "[He] is nice. Brian, you fake it." I was rightfully disturbed, but I excused it as though they must be mistaken.

As time went on, people often became an annoyance, so much so that I eventually confessed that I really didn't like people. "Ministry would be a lot easier if it wasn't for the people." That all sounds so shallow and foolish now.

I was thinking recently about how wonderful it would be to do something really great for the Kingdom, to be a missionary and reach lost souls for example. The question that immediately hit me was, "When are you going to start?" And right on top of that one was, "How does that happen?"

My great epiphany was so elementary one would think it goes without saying. My logical answer was, "I must start now --with love." I've tried so hard so many times to teach love to kids, but at times, now, I feel like I'm only beginning to practice it. I claimed to love those around me; I had love for them; I even shared love with them at times, but I feel like I'm now starting to give it, to live it.

It's in the little things, like realizing that that goofy kid who is so hard to communicate with deserves no less of my love and attention than anyone else who happens to be in the same room. It's consistent eye contact. It's noticing hurts and acknowledging them rather than avoiding them. It's giving people time and respect (anyone), expecting nothing in return, despite the tasks that are going undone.

In short, it's liberating to truly, selflessly give your life away everyday to each person with which you come in contact --and looking for ways to make that contact.

God help me.