I was not planning on going to church today. I was instead going to do my taxes. You know, “Give to Caeser…” and all that business, so skipping seemed biblically justified. But I needed to get a DVD from church, so I texted my friend, Arturo, to ask if he could pick it up for me. He texted back, “Sure,” and then proceeded to send me photos “live” from the first service. I thought it was funny that he was not only texting in church, but also taking candid photos.
Just as I was thinking that this was a new medium for him – he’s usually drawing in his ever-present sketch book – he sent me a photo of this amazing “doodle” (above).
When it popped up on my phone, it grabbed me immediately, like Jesus himself saying, “Chris, get your butt in here!” In an instant, I knew I had to go. No time for a shower, I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on a sweatshirt and sped across town in an attempt to make it to the second service.
I got there late and walked in with my friend, Sheryl, who was also alone. We sat together. After the service, we ran into Linda who has been having a hard time lately and needed a boost. As we shared a much appreciated laugh, TC snuck up behind me, singing “Help Me, Rhonda.” He was raving over a book I had loaned him on Brian Wilson. He’s a fellow music lover so we shared a few moments of giddiness discussing the Beach Boys. Just then, Phil came up and gave my whole little gang a “group hug”. It seemed he needed to give one as much as we all needed to get one.
I can’t tell you much about the sermon, or the service itself for that matter. But as I drove home from church, I knew for sure that Jesus was right – I was supposed to be there today.
Footnote: Arturo is a mutual friend. He has helped me in other ways than by sending me doodles from church – but he has given significant input to my life, nonetheless.
This truck was once someone’s dream vehicle. They had a huge amount of pride driving it off the dealer’s lot for the first time. Washing the dirt away to keep it shiny clean was a joy. Showing the amazing new features to the next-door neighbors was a delight.
I snapped this old beauty on the way to work a week or so ago. I love the blocky style of the mid-1960s Ford Galaxy 500. It weighs enough to stop a tank, should the driver encounter one on his way to work. It has no airbags or shoulder belts, so his safety was in his own hands.
And as I recently bought a bathtub mat to prevent slips and falls, I experienced tiny bits of pain from the soft bottoms of my feet. The mat’s spiky plastic tines poked into my soles. At first, I thought of taking the mat back. Then I realized it made my feet feel alive.
A recent Wall Street Journal article on triathlons had a sidebar featuring recommended equipment. the “entry-level” road bike was $1,449. that freaked me out a little until I realized that their normal readers are in a class where that price is entry-level.
I have a great ability to forget your name immediately after you tell me. This is not good.
I was definitely not the first customer to enter the new Centennial 
About nine months ago, I started experiencing pain in my left foot that just wouldn’t go away. Eventually, it reached the point where walking was painful. I put up with that for at least four months. I finally remembered my brother had experienced foot pain. I called him and he shared his experience of 
Lately I’ve been thinking about generation gaps. (From this point on, I’ll refer to them as GGs.) I will turn 57 in a few weeks (the new 52). While I don’t have any children, I do have a group of beloved nephews and nieces, ranging from young children to adults. In my volunteer job, I also work with a bunch of twenty-somethings. I’ve sometimes been reflecting on our differences, and also trying to remember how I viewed the GG when I was on the younger side of it.
