The Flannel Sheets Effect

Life is full of tiny delights. Those little things that we find joy in. The blessed Eucharisteo moment that brightens your day. That particular moment when others look at you funny, struggling to grasp why you’re smiling like a goober because of how much you enjoy the soft touch of that fleece sweatshirt you have, the fact that you’re all smiles because you had a Snackpack for lunch on or that you’re all misty eyed because you’re awestruck by the sight of falling snowflakes. It’s those simple pleasures like a beautiful wake up, a hot shower to start your day, the rising sun as you drive into work or nailing that presentation at work. It’s those defining moments that makes you full of joy, but in the grand scheme of things aren’t really anything to anyone.

For the past month and a half I’ve wanted to buy flannel sheets to snuggle up into during the cold winter nights. Santa’s little messenger, and secret shopper – a.k.a my Mom – instructed me not to make my purchase as “Christmas is right around the corner.” To my dismay, on Christmas morning, there they were a brand new set of tan flannel sheets. On a side note, do you know how you know you’re getting old? You express your appreciation for a gift of flannel sheets with the joyful glee and giddy exuberance of a five-year-old if he were to open up that new G.I. Joe or Xbox game. As we concluded our Christmas morning routine I quickly threw those puppies into the washer and had ‘em on my bed within minutes of getting back to my apartment.

You see, for me, there is nothing better than new, clean sheets. To kick it up a notch, there’s no greater feeling than hopping out of the shower, drying off and getting into clean sheets; preferably still warm. Needless to say I slept like a baby that first night.

The point is, we all have our own definition of joy. We find joy in different things in our lives. As we enter into these cold, dark winter months and look down the road towards the ever popular, and emotionally divided, Valentine’s Day, it’s those simple pleasures that will keep us going. Those are the things that will fuel the fire as we kick the Winter Blues. What’s yours? Where do you find that joy in your life that makes you smile and it brightens your day? As we prepare to begin the new year let's take a moment on what will fill our lives with joy and our next year with hope.

Happy New years and get a pair of flannel sheets...you won't regret it!


Until next time...

It's The End Of The World & I Almost Forgot To Pack

How fitting is it that a day before the end of the Mayan calendar, and the end of the world, I would watch The Bucket List? It was playing in the cardio theater at the gym during my morning workout. As some prep for the dooms day scenario, and businesses bank on their marketing campaigns, I spent the six a.m. hour pondering the meaning of my life, and what I have accomplished up to this point, from the likes of Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman.

Think about it though. If the world did in fact end on 12-21-12, would you be alright with the life you've lived and the legacy you would leave behind (for no one)?

Today, I frequently reflected on those two things. First, I thought that if it did take place where would I go, what's my plan of attack and am I prepared? Secondly, with all that I've done thus far in my life am I alright with accepting that it could be my last day? Of course the answer is NO! We all want more time on Earth to see, do and accomplish more. But, if these ancient savages are correct, and tomorrow is indeed a culmination of every Hollywood dooms day flick, my answer is YES. Bolded, underlined and italicized, that is a YES. I can accept that it could be my last day.

Yes, because I've loved and been loved. Yes, because I've climbed a dozen physical mountains and thousands more mentally, professionally and spiritually. Yes, because I tried to put other before me and saw the beauty in years of serving others while leading mission trips, service projects and other opportunities. Yes, because I have been blessed to travel to over ten countries. Yes, because I have faith in what is to come next for me.

Sure there's more I'd like to achieve in my life, and things I wish I had done when it presented itself to me, but I believe I made the most of what I had...did you? If not, why is that?

I think that's a beautiful thought to ponder tomorrow and as we prepare for Christmas and a new year. Whether we buy into tomorrow's "significance," or not, have we lived the life, and left the legacy, that we have wanted. That we've been called to live.


See you tomorrow!



Until next time...

I'm Not Worthy That You Should Enter Under My Roof...But How About A Beer?

I found my mind wandering at Church the other day thinking about something during the part of Mass when the congregation says the prayer before Holy Communion: Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed. These are the words straight from our buddies Matt (8:8) and Luke (7:6), where the Centurion spoke to Jesus and we recite them every Sunday as we prepare ourselves to receive Him in the Eucharist.

While we were praying this prayer aloud, I caught myself saying another prayer: Lord, I am certainly not worthy enough to have you enter under my roof – although I have a nice apartment that’s typically tidy and have a fridge full of healthy snacks and home brews – I surely am not even cool enough to be in the same vicinity as you, but only say those simple words and hopefully, hopefully, my soul shall be healed.

It came to me during that portion of Mass that it would be so cool to have the big guy come down and chill with me for the day in my apartment. We could catch a game, drink some wine (heard he knows quite the party trick that folks still talk about today) and share some laughs. We could discuss things like the meaning of life, faith, love and maybe even have him help me pick numbers for next week’s lotto or help choose players for next year’s fantasy football team. I’d ask him things like, why He let my Grandma die while I was so little and my brother die so young? I’d ask Him why he hates Cleveland sports and why He was nonexistent in my middle school years; why I didn’t know Him better in the toughest years of my life? I’d demand answers to how he could allow events like last week’s tragedy take place. And I'd have to ask him the ever so popular icebreaker question, if he could meet one person, dead or alive, who would He choose (cuz he can't say himself, like nine out of ten people)? If he came into Casa de Lofy, I would totally tweet about who I was hanging out with, I’d update Facebook minute by minute, and of course, see if he’d wingman me downtown for the night. The list goes on…

All joking aside, as I prayed this in Mass it made me think of two questions. First, what would I do if he did enter under my roof (see above for my thoughts), and secondly, who is worthy?

The answer is no one. No one is worthy of such an experience. But we should try are darnedest to become so. Striving to become so pure, so disciplined and become more Christlike in all that we do. And maybe, just maybe, one Sunday, when we pray aloud our prayer, we will be able to say: Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof - and I know this, but I am striving to be more like you: Courageous, loving and compassionate - but only say the word - and I hope one day you'll say those words, oh how I do - my soul shall be healed.

It's The End Of The World And I Almost Forgot To Pack

We are a culture of believers. We always are wanting to believe everything we hear or see…like everything posted on the internet, we want to believe.We are a culture starving to buy into something bigger than ourselves.Things like luck, a new miracle weight loss product or a candidate who will actually bring us change we can believe in or that Black Friday actually gives you a sale worth three hour lines and potential fights of a waffle maker or flat screen.We’ve been told by marketers that too look beautiful we need “this” or we just gotta try “that.” Advertisers have told us “Believe in We” and "Just do it." We want to believe in something other than ourselves.

Each hour that goes by we get closer to December 21st, the end of the world according to the Mayan calendar. To many it’s a bunch of hogwash.To some it’s the sign of Armageddon. Like many, I haven’t thought twice about it, except for wanting to throw a “It’s the End of the World…and We Survived” party. But the other night I found myself bored, reading an article about the rise in teen and adolescent depression caused by the ongoing fear of the December dooms day scenario. As I read the article, and overheard a report on the television, I actually began to think about it. If this truly is going to happen – which it won’t – I want to be ready – which there’s nothing to be ready for, because it’s not going to happen – and if I want to be ready, I better pack some things.

For nearly thirty minutes I stuffed my pack with freeze dried meals I had left over from hikes, made my trail-mix and rolled up all my cold weather gear, sleeping pad, bag and two person tent in case I needed to quickly pick up and leave the city. Let’s face it, in all dooms day flicks, and alien picture-shows, NY is first to go, followed by LA and then other large cities. I want to be mobile and head for Hocking Hills or the Appalachian mountains – I’ve never heard of aliens destroying backcountry nowhere. Besides if I’m going to go down in this Armageddon I better be comfortable, not mention there’s nothing more romantic than sharing a two person tent, watching meteorites and fire falling from the sky as I find some random person to share just a short, magical minute with.

Regardless of what I believe will happen...I believed. For a moment I wanted to believe. Have you ever thought about how easily we buy into something? Why? We talk about being individuals, yet so easily cave to be like someone else, instead of being who we were created to be. It's my hope that what's left of my life for the next week (if the Mayans are correct) I will be who I am called to be and if nothing happens, at least from this point on, I'll be exactly who I was created to be. Either way, at least I'm packed and ready. Semper Paratus.

Until next time...

An Angel In The Driver's Seat

Back in August I lost my brother to a massive heart attack. I had a step brother that I never lived with and many of my friends didn't know I had. We were separated by ten years and nearly two thousand miles. Not until recently have I found myself wanting to see him, call him and just have him present. Even though he wasn't ever around for a good portion of my life, except for the past few years as we grew closer in my adulthood.

The other morning, not more than a few moments before I woke to go to work did I see him. As my body began to awake by my internal clock and I could feel the pain of waking I went into a quick dream. One that I'd like to share with you.

I was in a car traveling along a beautiful highway sitting comfortably as a passenger in a driver-less car. It was a warm, picture perfect day. The road I traveled was surrounded by an angelic blend of blues, greens and greys. The car was traveling down a road the sliced through a vibrant forest of towering trees, with a large mountain range set behind and nestled below it all was a pristine lake.

As I turned my attention from the heavenly sight back into the car with a car without a driver, I noticed that I was no longer alone. I had been joined by my brother who was now sitting behind the wheel. Because it was a dream I don't remember what was said exactly, but I remember telling him how much I missed him and how much hurt I felt knowing that my big bro was gone. For what felt like hours I sat in the car with him, he felt near, present and I remember actually physically crying as my alarm went off to wake me up.

Just as I began to awake and leave the presence of him he looked at me, and in his loving, big brother tone, said to me: "I'm here. I'll always be near and I'll always be with you." Then I woke up. Sweating and wiping the tears from my face a grew confident and loved.

I share this with you for two reasons. One, I've come to realize (and I'm man enough to share this to all two follower - Thanks Mom and Mom's friend) that there is nothing more refreshing than a good cry. Although this was only brief, it's a relieving expression that we often associate with negative, but why?

Secondly, I share this with you, because I'm now twenty seven years. If you're like me, many of your friends are engaged or just getting engaged...and according to Facebook this week, four friends got engaged this week. But if you're like me you might be struggling with the loss of a loved one, or have someone in your life who is ill or struggling with life. Maybe you're losing your grip on uncontrollable aspects of your life or projects at work. Maybe the Christmas season, and barrage of jewelry commercials, is making you lonely.

Regardless, the dream reminded me that I'm not alone, far from it actually. Although I miss my big bro, he's very much with me. Maybe even more near now than he ever was. The dream was an excellent reminder that no matter where we are in our lives, we aren't alone along our journey. It just took a dream with an angel behind the wheel to remind me that when we feel the farthest from a loved one who has passed, or from our friends/ family or even alone from God that there truly is always someone looking over you.

Jump roping, bowling pin juggling, truths of Grace

A couple of weeks ago I was at the rec and I was stretching in an area away from everyone. I shared the space with a guy who would randomly break into an impromptu dance party. His music from his iPod was so loud that it over powered the music I had playing through my headphones. He'd push out a quick set with the dumbbells and break it down like he was a backup dancer at a hip hop show or a member of a rec center boy band.

I sat, stretching, baffled by what was happening. All I could do was laugh in my head, and make jokes, of how incredibly redonkulous he looked. Then it hit me moments later as his dance moves evolved into a modified jump rope motion. He was dancing, but was also incorporating an interval jump rope set in between sets, minus one thing: The jump rope.

How easy is it for us to see something and think one thing and not even begin to understand what is happening before us.

Like with Christ,we don't know where He is leading us, let alone what is happening before us. He wants into our lives, yet often times we try it alone, without His presence

Last month I was at the FEST in Cleveland and took part in an XLT, Eucharistic Adoration, in the Chapel. Bishop Gries gave a powerful testament of allowing Christ in our lives.

There was a man on the interstate who was pulled over by a trooper for speeding. The officer approached the vehicle of the man and noticed in the backseat a gallon of gasoline, four bowling pins, matches and a wig. He asked the driver why he had such random items in his possession. The driver replied that he was a clown in the circus in town and his main trick was juggling bowling pins that were lit on fire.

The officer, who thought he had heard every excuse in his days of patrolling the highways, asked the driver to prove it. The driver exited his car, lit a fire on the ends of the bowling pins and began juggling on the side of the highway for the officer.

A man who was driving with his wife slowed down as he took notice to what was happening to the man who had been pulled over. He turned to his wife and said, "If that's some sort of field sobriety check then I'm screwed. I quit drinking."

We all see events and chapters in our lives differently then what is truly happening to us. How it is effecting us. How we are growing physically, mentally and spiritually. How it is forcing us to grow closer to the Lord. We find ourselves confused and often times overwhelmed by what we see and not what the Lord wants us to see. It's at those moments that we must ask the Lord to enter into our hearts and we must force ourselves to listen to Him. Those are the times we must seek our His grace and feed our spirit by receiving Him through the Eucharist. Sit before Him and ask His forgiveness, seek out His strength and courage. Place yourself in His presence and adore Him.

So many people, especially young adults, try so hard to create careers, begin a new life, start families and take a stab at trying to be a big kid. They strive to work their way up the corporate ladder with reckless abandon. Spend weekends exploring the pubs and clubs of the city on a hunt, much like explorers of the African Serengeti in search for wild prey. They spend countless rounds a night in pursuit of that endangered species...someone sane, without baggage, that will love them and make it their goal to always make them happy.

Yet we don't seem to take the time to fine tune the relationship that means the most. To take a break from the machine that is our routine, to grow deeper in the one place in our life that will actually bring the love and happiness we so desperately need and that's through our relationship with Christ.

Much like the guy dancing during his work out, and the husband in the car passing by the juggler, we all see what is in front of us, but fail to go deeper or try to see past what is happening to try and grasp the reality of what's going on. Ultimately forcing us to remember what it is we need most...a relationship with Christ. Instead of focusing more on advancing your career or picking up that girl at the bar on Saturday, and all those other things that make us temporarily happy. Try to focus on God's Grace and letting it enter in your life. See the endless possibilities of a life of happiness from now through eternity.


Until next time...

I fought a blind man ... and lost

Have you ever been at a sporting event, concert or even walking the streets of New York City and become overwhelmed by the chaos of trying to walk around? That certain time when there's so much going on and everyone is walking in every which way, but one that makes sense? Then just like that, you snap. You grow angry, anxious and aggravated.

There was an instance when I was at an outdoor festival up in Cleveland, a Christian event to make this story even better, and it became crowded. There were folks walking in every direction, bumping into one another and were without a care in the world for anyone outside of their own personalbubble. To make things worse, I was there all day working at three different locations, all strategically placed to cause me to just erupt with frustration or eventually collapse with exhaustion. Either way, it didn't help that it was also a bajillion degrees out.

I figured the only thing at that time that could calm me down was a beer, but since it was a Christian event there was none, but a Johnsonville brat seemed to take a close second. I found myself waiting in a never ending line for one fresh off the world's longest grill. As I neared the end a group of people came to join the person ahead of me; five people to be exact. I grew livid and was screaming insanities in my head. Then this one man joined them and bumped into me, causing me to leave my spot and fall from the line. If I wasn't already at my breaking point, this was the final straw.

In my head I thought to myself many things, many of the adjectives I used were only four lettered. I thought to myself Look at this guy! Is he a jerk? Does he just not care? Is he blind? How could he not see me? . It was at the time I was about to confront him - "Hey chief, ya blind? Did ya not see me or are you just that ignorant..." - that I quickly learned how I was actually the one who was the jerk.

As I bit my lip, he turned to apologize. His hat blocked most of his face and his eyes hid behind his large dark sunglasses as he glared over me. He had his right arm locked with the woman next to him, most likely his wife. In his left hand...a thin white stick with a red tip. The man who had bumped into me, the man who caused me to grow angered, was blind. He could not see me. Yet although he was the one in line who physically could not see, I was the one in all reality who was blind.

Christ teaches us that we are always in his presence even when we are blind. In the book of Psalms it says "I was stupid and could not understand; I was like a brute beast in your presence. Yet I am always with you; you take hold of my right hand (Psalm 73: 22-23)."

He reminds us time and time again to open our eyes - physically and spiritually - to hear His message. The big guy calls us to remain compassionate and understanding, even when it just drives us crazy. Whether it's at a large event like the one in my story, on the highway in rush hour or even with that one person who drives us the craziest.

As we "neither know, nor understand; as we wander about in darkness, and it seems all the world’s foundations shake (Psalms 82:5)" we are called to continue to search for love and compassion. We are reminded in Proverbs that "The way of the wicked is like darkness; they do not know on what they stumble (Proverbs 4:19)." We all stumble. We all grow angry. We all are led into darkness. But we must remember that it is then, when grow blind, grow angered, lonely, tired, fill in how you feel today, that we are called to open our eyes and trust in the Lord. He tells us as we stumble "My son, to my words be attentive, to my sayings incline your ear; Let them not slip from your sight, keep them within your heart; For they are life to those who find them (Proverbs 4:20-22)."

A few moments after the man apologized I got my brat and I took it to a nearby park. For a half hour I sat on a bench, devoured my brat and sipped my water as I began to pray. I grew relaxed and was at peace. It was hard to imagine at that moment in time how I could let myself to grow that angry and ignorant...especially at Jesus-Stock. Yet, I chose to be driven by my anger to be led blindly. It just took almost picking a fight with someone who was actually blind, to show me that.

Adventure, the new endangered species

What happened to the days of adventure? Those summer days as a kid where the only time you were home was for breakfast, dinner and bed? Where the sun was your clock and sun down meant be home before it was too late. Those days where kids actually played outside. Your imagination was your source of entertainment, pick up games of ball with the neighborhood kids was your gaming system and it was alright for young men to get in trouble for acting like a boy and not be given a title of hyper active, A.D.D or A.D.H.D.

Those days of old where the ice cream truck was driven by a cute college girl that as a young man you could only dream of one day having as your girlfriend. The days where you rode your bike outside, sought out adventure and some days even got dirty.

Just the other day the ice cream truck drove by and I was excited to see the beautiful college coed, but it was a middle aged, over weight balding guy. When you want to turn on the TV for some music you no longer turn to MTV - Music Television - you must order MTV 2 or MTV 3 for that, and on the topic of television there is no longer history on the History Channel; that's what H2 is for now. Ball fields have grow dustier and not because the drought, but because of the dust piled up due to the lack of use. The newest item added to the endangered species list is adventure, soon to be followed by imagination.

My point is this, we as a society seem to lack that drive for adventure. Nearly 81% of all high school age girls own a Northface jacket and 95% of college girls own two of the same style, but I'm willing to bet if you polled the adventure-wannabees less than a quarter of them actually do anything physical outside in the cold months (all statistics are made up and based off years in ministry and attending a private college).

The only mountains we seem to climb are the mountain of files piling up on our desks and the stack of bills at home. Our only escape away from the stresses of being an adult is plopping down and watching "reality" TV that is anything but reality. We gawk over shows on the travel channel with beautiful white sandy beeches on exotic islands, we DVR episodes of house hunters to see the houses we'll never own, we fantasize of adventures involving fighting bad guys or romanticize of finding the love of our lives by watching a chick flick or newest Stallone movie. But most of us never experience any of it, because we're plugged into either a computer, a phone, an iPad or some other electrical device that has become our life. We've lost our will to truly live life and seek out adventure. We've stopped listening to the inner child that has, for years, been screaming for your attention.

In Ecclesiastes 3: 1-13 is says: “There is an appointed time for everything, and a time for every affair under the heavens. A time to give birth, and a time to die; A time to heal; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance…I recognized that there is nothing better than to rejoice and to do well during life — (for) this is a gift of God (paraphrased).”

Just over a week ago I lost my brother. He died from what we believe was a heart attack. In all the pain of what has happened I realized he taught me a great lesson on how to live life. It wasn't until an uplifting conversation with my spiritual director and hours of discernment as I began writing a eulogy for his funeral that I listened to his message.

He taught that if you’re unhappy with where your life is heading and have become beaten down by it's draining ways, life’s way too short, each day too precious, to allow it to slip from your grasp and prevent you from doing the things you want most. He did just that. The last year of his life he gave up his job, moved out of his home and left town just to travel, to seek out adventure.

He took time to do the things he wanted to do before he died. Against the judgement, and opinions, of my Dad and other loved ones in his life he did as much as he could, knowing that he was young and that he didn't know when his time would come. And in my humble opinion, there is no more righteous of a way to leave this place. For I believe with all the love in my heart, he is sitting up in those pearly gates of Heaven smiling, watching down on us and saying… “I ate and I drank and I enjoyed all the good of all of life’s toil...(for) this is a gift of God and I lived it until my final days." He recognized that there was nothing better, nothing that made him more glad than to live life well (paraphrased Ecclesiastes 3: 1-13).

Quoting Emilio Estevez, the Mighty Duck man himself: "You don't choose a life; you live one." Start living yours today. Climb those mountains. Unplug yourself from electronics and plug yourself into adventure. Seek out those white sandy beaches only a Sandals commercial can bring you. Travel to far off lands to eat those disgusting dishes those guys on the food network bring you. Begin living your life today and worry about tomorrow as it comes to you.


Until next time...

The legend of Dutch Hagar

This is a bit different from my usual blogging, but is a short story about a made up persona I created one night while wing-manning a buddy of mine. We developed a story that he was Amish and on Rumspringa. He pulled it off with his long, curly Amish-esque hair and lumberjack beard, complimented with a white button up collard shirt. Long story short, and a whole slew of numbers later, it worked. So I decided to share with the world, and all who read this (Thanks Mom), the legend of Dutch Hagar. Enjoy!

The gallant fable of Dutch Hagar (pronounced hay-gar) goes back to the days of the Old Country; wherever that may be. It can easily be said that since Good ol’ Dutch there has been no such man ever to walk the cobblestone roads of his old-world town. Since those black and white era days there has yet to be a man to grace the dirt of this world who could live up to the heroic tale of a life in which this man lived so many years ago.

Young Dutch was raised by a modest family, in a modest home, of modest means, but given gifts that were anything but modest. As a young boy he moseyed about his village with the common folk. As a young man he was known to often wander the forests, that lined his town, for days at a time where he would wrestle bears, sing with birds and make the tiniest of creatures smile, even the old wise owl. Young Hagar graduated the top of his class and was accepted to Oxford…a century before it was founded.

Some have been quoted to say that his moral fiber was so powerfully potent that vegetables feared him, vagabonds found optimism and the faint of heart grew strong. It was once reported that during a weeks stay in a Peruvian prison he dropped the soap, and inmates grabbed their ankles. He’s stopped wars with his drinking songs. United cultures with his wit. And ended many marriages with his Charm.
An old wife tells a tale that the town doctor, who delivered him, shared that during his birth he entered this world with a shot of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other. His beard was on the endangered species list. Pangaea’s division was the direct result of him wanting to leave land to try out his sea legs and explore the oceans.

While cornered in a dimly lit French tavern at knifepoint he was challenged to an intense staring competition with a blind man, and won. His organ donor card also lists his beard.* Mona Lisa once made a claim that he would have been the most beautiful woman a paintbrush has ever created, only if he would have let someone paint his portrait.

During his life he consumed so much wealth that it has been said that had Warren Buffet been alive, he would have called on him for financial advice…on a separate note, Al gore did not invent the Internet…Dutch did, at age twelve. Interestingly enough, Dutch did not invent the Dutch Oven, but he did create the Rumspringa Razzmatazz, which consists of churning butter, a bucket of raspberries and a high-speed buggy chase. Legend states that while out on a hike in the Canadian Rockies he came across a grizzly bear that caught sight of him and quickly began to play dead.

The only flaw that has ever been reported of Dutch was that he didn’t possess any, except one could argue that if he had one it would be that of his predecessor S.R. Haggar who, after experiencing Rumspringa for a summer, had trouble getting his lazy sass, grizzly bear self out of bed by noon. But the good news for good ol’ Dutch is that in every adventure he journeyed, in every challenge he chased down and every pub he drank through, from Singapore to New York, he had the power of the bulldog face, an array of funky white boy dance moves and his token, superhero motto, “I need this.”

So we raise a glass and toast our dear friend Dutch. That when the cheer is flowing and friends are glowing he may make his signature entrance and rule the room as there is a little bit of Dutch in all of us. Cheers.


Until next time...

25 years of folklores and record stores

Patience. What a stern word. It's disciplined, deserving respect for anyone who can proudly boast that that word would, and could, describe such a person. Patience, is something we all want, and most wish was a skill they possessed in their bag of tricks, myself included.

Think about how tense you are driving the highway to work as others speed past you, hurried and on their way to work. How anxious and unresponsive a boss or coworker can be because they are desperately in need of a call back or correspondence from a counterpart. Or if you're that person, who like me, had waited month after month for nearly a year to get that job offer after umpteen final interview attempts. Patience. As beautifully necessary to survive, it flat out sucks.

The other weekend I worked a community arts and music festival. I met this woman who is eighty one years old. Twenty five years ago she listened to a band that was taking the stage as the last act of this year's event. She had told me that her and her husband heard this band play way back when and they performed a childhood favorite; a folk song that she remembered her Mom playing for her during early childhood, a song that meant so much to her. Since then she has yet to hear it played.

Twenty five years she searched record stores and music shops. For two and a half decades she sought out this childhood memory, but to no avail. Her husband told me in his delicately seasoned voice, from behind his wide black rimmed sunglasses, that they had called this band not too long ago to see if they'd play this one song for her...and they did. After twenty five years of what she had claimed was "completely worth it" she got what she had waited for. Twenty five years. That is patience.

Now just three weeks at my new job I look back at my lack of patience during nearly a year of searching and stressing for a job, a future and a chance of being a big kid again. I lacked patience. I wanted it now and I wanted it my way.

This story of the folk singing eighty one year old lady on a daunting two decade quest truly lives out the early message of Psalm 40.

"Surely, I wait for the Lord; who bends down to me and hears my cry, draws me up from the pit of destruction, out of the muddy clay, sets my feet upon rock, steadies my steps."

How often do we forget that all we must do is put our trust in someone so much greater, the most divine and the creator of our lives. Day after day we fret about the tiniest of details, and the pettiest of issues, only to be shown again that our fears, our wants and our desires are nothing in the grand scheme of things if we just have faith...and with that, patience. Coupled together the lives we live today will live on into eternity as we follow that righteous path.

Imagine waiting twenty five years for something..or even forty. I can't

This woman taught me so much by doing so little. Although she could have done a simple Google search and gotten what she wanted in only seconds, she was patient and found what she had been searching for. For me, it took seven months. For you, maybe longer. Our paths are all different, but all equally blessed in one way or another. We are reminded by scripture and this angelic woman that if we live our lives with patience and with a faithful heart we will be led to solid ground, brighter days and our journey steadied.

May God bless your journey. Fill your heart with the warmth of His word and spread His patience across your path...and if you're literally searching for something - let's say, like a specific song - try a quick Google search or enjoy the long journey ahead.

Until next time...

JC the Kung Fu fighting, faith filling, 'see and eye dog' super hero for the lost

After nearly eight restless months of being beaten to my knees exploring the rough seas of interviewing I have found a new career endeavor; a new mountain to climb; a new chapter in the journey.

A full year has gone by now since leaving ministry and it's still so hard to talk about. I close my eyes and remember the chorus of frustrations that sang out, the sadness that caused me to weep with those that I chose to leave behind and the times that exceeded my expectations only to be blinded by the things I couldn't talk about.

The past year has been an unpredictable roller coaster ride. It had its ups, and it surely had its downs, but through it all, my eyes have been closed. I was desperate to cross the lips of grace. Lost, but struggled to be found. Yet through friends, family and faith was able to push through.

Now as I stare at the ever-evolving journey that is my life, I look to see that during this moment of my life Christ was constantly, and humbly, hitting me across the face with a 4X4 of Truth while God would frequently sucker punch me in the gut just to remind it is His will that will be done, not my own.

Much like many of you, in times of heartache, anticipation and ruts we often forget that we don't go it alone in life. We look for signs in any place possible, but most times forgetting that we don't need signs, we need faith. For several months I prayed and prayed through it all for a sign. It's good that cell phone companies don't have a prayer plan, because I would have surely used up all the minutes, and then some, the first week of the job search. Let alone the countless hours of discernment with my parents after each resume was sent out, after each interview or any time I had an idea of how to survive this chapter of my life. All the times at the rec. when patrons, now my dear friends, would vibrantly ask for a career update. I would have tapped out enough minutes in discernment for myself in a thousand lifetimes. Yet, I still sought out a sign.

As I began to unpack my stuff in my new temporary home down in Columbus, I heard these words echoed out of my laptop speakers: "A year goes by, and I can't talk about it. On my knees, dim lighted room, thoughts free flow try to consume, myself in this, I'm not faithless, just paranoid of getting lost or that I might lose." These words caused me to stop my unpacking to begin in prayer as I listened to this song. For an entire year, I felt lost. Wandering the wretched streets of sorrow as I fought the tears of frustrations of where I was in my life.

The song continued on, "...And I'm praying that we will see, something there in between, then and there that exceeds all we can dream, so we can talk about it." How many times during the past year did I pray that I'd see so much more of my life, in between all that made me close my eyes? Through months of discernment of leaving ministry, a gut wrenching break-up, family troubles and praying to get through feeling like a failure as an adult I was able to stay positive and tackle it with my head held high.

We are constantly reminded that we never go it alone. Christ is there by our side. He says in Deuteronomy, "Be brave it is the Lord, your God, who marches with you, He will never fail you or forsake you (Deut. 31)." All those restless nights staying up worrying about what's to come I felt alone, scared and discouraged. Yet, everywhere I looked He was there. He was there in the people I met while working at the rec. Those friendly foes who opened up to share their own life stories, those adventures that gave witness to their own mountains that were forced to climb. He was there in the teens I led in the jr. high and high school ministries as we grew in faith together. He sang to me as I hiked the countless miles of trails back home. My eyes were closed, but he took me and led me through it all. He was there.

He goes on to proclaim: "It is the Lord who marches before you...So do not fear or be dismayed." A year has gone by and I still can't talk about it, but I survived. I came out alive. I came out on top. I came out alive. The sign I was looking for all along was there. He was there. Much like the story of the man who walked along the beach in Christ's footsteps, I too, walked step by step in His shadow.

As I finished listening to the song that had taken me from unpacking my new life, it finished with the message I needed. "And I'm praying that we will see, something there in between, then and there that exceeds all we can dream, so we can talk about it."

As we become lost along the way. Become beaten to our knees and striped of our pride, becoming faithless and full of fears, it is then that Christ walks closest with us. It is when we close our eyes, He shows his light the brightest. As we become deaf to His word he shouts it from the mountaintop. He is there.

Just as the song sand out, "another year has gone by," and now my eyes are open and I can talk about it. To all those, that helped me along the way, I thank you. To the ones who gave freely of themselves to help encourage and inspire, thank you. To those who gave me sight while I was blind, thank you. To those, who showed me hope as I became hopeless, I love you. For as I walk forward into this new chapter of my life, it is because of you I am ready and able to hit this next mountain head on. The sign I prayed to God for the past several months came through you. He was there with me all along. It is now that I realize it. Remembering the words of Thomas Merton, "though I may seem to be lost, and in the shadow of death, I will not fear, for You are ever with me, and You will never leave me to face my problems alone."

Thank you.


Until next time...

Zombie hunting in a bounce castle of reality

"Be careful of the zombies" yelled the birthday boy to the rest of the party goers, turned zombie hunters. The skinny, goofy looking eight year old leads four other adventurers in the bounce castle and that's how I spent the first hour of my six hour shift at the rec.

"Come on guys," cried out another passionate zombie cowboy. "We have to get those zombies."

"No zombies allowed in the castle," shouted the eldest of the posse of zombie catchers.

As this all took place before my eyes, through the nets of the bouncy castle set up in the field house, I stood there making sure there was no horse play, fighting or actual zombies inside while the boys made gun noises and bounced around in search of imaginary zombies somewhere inside the 12 by 12 inflatable structure.

Minutes later a kid came out with a scraped knee and I sat him down on the bench next to the castle. While looking at the six year old's knee and helping him get back to his search of imaginary dead mutants I told him that in a few seconds he'll be all cleaned up and ready to go back in and then he can continue killing the zombies.

He looked at me, just as any confused six year old might by what he had heard, and said: "There aren't real zombies in there." Then looked over to his Mom, who was standing behind me, "Mom, he thinks there's real zombies in there, but there isn't. They're made up. There are no zombies."

It's funny that in just one week's time I've not had two "run-ins" with zombie related conversations. This one with the bounce house zombie bounty hunters and another on Sunday with the teens at youth group. That conversation was a bit more to my maturity level as we - in grave and well thought out detail - discussed and debated defense measures, survival techniques and everything else zombie.

It's that as I type here now a few things have come to mind. Important issues that I struggle to put into actual words that make sense or even are worthy to share, but none the less intrigue me and will attempt to create coherent points and sound logic.

They come in this order:

1. As the young boy fought imaginary zombies he was quick to point out it was fake; he wasn't in fact fighting actual zombies. He knew the difference about what was real and was in his mind. How often do we forget that about whatever it is in our lives we're pretending? Work, a relationship, potential changes in our lives, etc. And can we tell the difference between the two?

2. The Mayan's believe the world will end on Dec. 21 of this year, the end-date of a 5,125-year-long cycle. If the Mayan's believe the world is to end, how should I feel as a Catholic? Maybe just as importantly, if the Mayan's are right, will zombies be a part of any of the demise of life as we know it? I believe it's an honest question, which leads to question #3...

3. What would be my strategy against zombies? Especially if the world is supposed to end this year and we don't know for sure what will happen?

That zombie fighting little knee scrapper reminds us that in our lives we must force ourselves to disconnect our "wants" and our "hopes" for ourselves from reality and what's actually happening.

Prime example in my life right now, I've waited nearly seven months now for a job. Interview after interview I waited for the perfect gig to present itself and convinced myself it would, but it wasn't until those moments when nothing came across my eye that I realized I had to keep searching, networking, asking friends and praying. Every time I had an interview I convinced myself someone else - much more qualified - would get the job and I took myself out of the game before it even started. Instead of looking at it as if I'm on the level playing field as other candidates and need to go in and "sell" myself to them. And when a job came by that I thought was the perfect job with years of success to follow with it, was it my own thoughts that made it seem ideal or is it because it's what God has called me to do next on my journey?

A close friend of mine thought everything was all hunky-dory with a girl he was recently dating, not listening to everyone else advising him differently. Then one day found out quite the different story was unfolding, and in this particular instance, I mean quite the opposite of what he thought. If it were a baseball game he wasn't in right field, he wasn't even on the same team...

It's those times that we must forget what we want to see happening before us and accept reality. Putting our trust in the plan and letting things unfold as they may. Surrendering ourselves to God and accepting His Will along our journey...Even if it involves zombies, or in a more serious manner, darker days full of a doubt.

As we anticipate an end of the world in December, according to the Mayans and other philosophies/ beliefs, and get caught up in all the hoopla of "End of the World" gimmicks we must think what would the end of the world me like or at least the end of our own life? I'm not smart enough, well informed, nor studious enough in my theology to shed light on this, but all I say is that if Church hymns remind us anything we are to "be watchful and careful" for we don't know when the son of man is coming. We don't know when the end of the world is coming and we read this through scripture. "Therefore, stay awake, for you know neither the day, nor the hour (Matthew 25: 13)." In terms of scripture that depicts a devastating and brutal end I believe fully - with every ounce of faith I have - that it details the end of our life if we live an unmoral, God-less life or even a life where we believe we will live forever, unstoppable and untouchable. Better put from another blog: "If we live as though the finite horizons of this life were the whole of reality, we are fools indeed." (That's all plenty heavy for another post at another time)

Zombies or not, we all seem to live throughout our how horror film that is haunted by life changing decisions or as I call them big kid responsibilities. Doubt, dismay and displeasure with aspects of our lives slowly creep into our sight and follow us creepily along our journey. As if we are in a horror film being chased down by our own zombie. But reality too can haunt us, especially if we can't separate the difference between what we want to see and hope to see, and what is really unfolding in front of us.

With all that being said, I believe full heartily that with my extensive back country survival, my physical abilities to hike and gather in challenging terrain and a collection of friends with diverse background in hunting and hiking to make a zombie survival squad I could survive against zombies; real or imaginary. The sad fact is that upon beginning this entry I wasn't going to go into detail about this in hopes to retain any sense of respect I have from anyone who actually reads this, but now the wheels are turning and I am deep in thought now. Inspired by the creativity of those zombiebusters in the bounce castle I am actually stewing over this one.

Stay tuned...


Until next time...

Why a mustard seed and not a Tic Tac?

There comes a time in everyone's life where you feel as if you're wandering among a dried-out field, saturated with misery and disarray. Dark and cold, the field is so far gone, so lonely, that it seems that nothing can ever grow and blossom into anything worth bearing any fruits.

For some of us, that hypothetical "field" - that cold, lonely, unforgiving stretch of our lives - might be taking on a new chapter of your life; going it alone and navigating it off the cuff, not knowing what's around each corner. For others it may be mourning the loss of a dear friend(s) or family member. While for someone else it may be just losing hope in whatever mountain it is you wait to climb, that path you're afraid to set out on. Right now, for me it is seeing where it is God calls me to be. Which righteous path it is He wants me to journey down. As I anxiously cling on to faith as my life raft this week.

As I went over next week's Gospel with the teens at YM last night, I couldn't help but find the anecdote I've been praying for. The reading comes from our buddy Mark. He shares of a time when Jesus was speaking to a crowd. He told them all that the Kingdom of Heaven is as if a man were to scatter seeds among the land. He doesn't know how, but through night and day, somehow, the seeds grow. First the blade, then the ear, and then the full grain in the ear...then the harvest comes.

Then he said: "It is like a mustard seed that, when it is sown in the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on the earth. But once it is sown, it springs up and becomes the largest of plants and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade."

Everyone then understood (in the Gospel), but not all of the teens. I was asked what a mustard seed was and why Jesus chose a mustard seed...and like any good YM...I quickly moved on and changed the subject of conversation.

I had the teens put out their hand and imagine a Tic Tac resting in the middle of it. Cut it in half I then said to them. Now you have the exact size of the seed of faith you need to plant. That tiny little seed, when planted, will grow and flourish into something you could never imagine. That little seed of nothingness can grow into something that bears great fruit, moves mountains and provide new life...through time.

The mustard seed is mentioned many times throughout the Gospels, my favorite coming from my main man Matt. He writes: "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you would be able to say to this mountain, 'move from here to there,' and it would move. Nothing would be impossible for you."

It's hard to imagine that such a small seed can grow such fruits, even in a time of such drought. That little seed of faith can move mountains. Yet as we struggle with our day-to-day worries, we often forget that.

For me, as I worry about a thousand-and-one things this week I focus on that imaginary Tic Tac that I had each teen place in their hand. That tiny little seed that we must focus on replanting in the fields of fear and trepidation in our hearts. Then we will stand by, watch it grow and know that with just a the tiniest of faith we can look at that mountain that stands before us in our lives and say "move" and it will move. Nothing will be impossible.

That as you, in your life today, worry about wealth, fret about future endeavors, struggle with life's temptations or mourn the loss of someone close to you. There is that tiny seed of faith that needs planted in your life, in your heart. A seed no larger than half a Tic Tac. Once that small seed is planted, nothing will ever keep you from moving mountains; even if you're lost among the fields of nothingness, or lost in the shadow of death. Like Thomas Merton wrote: "I will not fear, for You are ever with me and You will never leave me to face my problems alone."

Amen.


Until next time...

A sea of calm in a storm of chaos

For anyone who has ever attempted white water rafting you know that the #1 thing to remember while entering the rapids is that you don't stop paddling. I've heard the guides constantly remind us that when you get scared or the rapids seem too strong, paddle harder and listen to the commands. If you stop paddling during the rush of the rapids a whole slue of things could happen. People can fall over, the boat can flip, you can run aground, etc. Don't stop paddling.

I remember taking teens from my youth group rafting - we did it each summer - and the guide had to continually yell at us every time to keep paddling. Each time we tackled a class 4 or 5 he would scream "don't stop paddling," "keep going," "we're almost through." But every time another raft from our flotilla would be overturned and teenage girls would be screaming because there hair was wet or something slippery brushed their leg. And every time we would get through and into an eddy the guides would remind us how important it was to keep paddling. Although we wanted to stop out of fear, that's when we needed to paddle harder to avoid hazards and getting stuck in the hydraulics.

If there’s one thing that I’ve learned it’s that life is a lot like white water rafting. Your trip begins nice and smooth as you start at the put-in and follow the leisurely paced current, just how life is most of the time and you eventually find rapids that sneak up just ahead or around the next turn. And when you seem to approach the intense rapids of life, whether it’s work, relationships or just the stress of things going on that are out of your control, and you begin to get caught up in the crushing water that’s spraying overhead. When you feel the crunch of the rocks below and the violent current, that's when out of instinct you want to stop paddling and hold on. The moment you want to cease your paddling out of fear. The moment when your entire body is struck with fear, frozen by the intense realization that you're no longer in control. That instant when your raft bounces from rock to rock like a pinball in a machine. It is then that you need to paddle the most. It doesn’t matter if you’re scared or worried; because like life, the river doesn’t cater to you. It owes you nothing. It's unforgiving. It's relentless. So is life. You just have to bite your lip and paddle, paddle out of instinct. Paddle for survival. You paddle for yourself. That’s how you’ll survive all of what the river can throw at you, and that’s how you’ll survive the rapids that lay ahead in life.

Regardless of where you find yourself in your journey. Whether you're sitting pretty with a nice McMansion and a power suit, power steering-type job or you're struggling to break into a career. Whether you're barely making ends meet or you've got everything you want. No matter where you are you'll find yourself constantly going in and out of relentless rocky rapids of fear, frustration and chaos. It is then when everything sucks and it seems you've lost control that you must keep paddling. Forcing yourself to keep pushing forward. Pushing you to go on, paddle faster. Just like any river, and in our lives, no matter how rough the rapids, a welcome eddy calmly awaits to slowly carry you along until that next round of rapids - that sits down river, just around that corner that you're not ready for - waits to take you on again. Head on.

But if you paddled on once, you can do it again. Today you become that sea of calm amongst the storm of chaos that is your life.


Until next time...

Off ramp ramblings from a little black bird

Just yesterday I sat at a red light on the off ramp of the highway and witnessed such a frustrating and glorious act that explains the last seven months of my life to the fullest. As I sat and stared off into the clear blue sky ahead of me I saw this small bird soaring through the sky. He flapped his wings and cut through the air so delicately. His wings sliced through the strong afternoon breeze cleanly and without any resistance, just like a knife cutting through a freshly baked loaf of bread. It was such a beautiful site to see as he attempted to make his way.

The only downside, and also the frustrating part for him, was that he was attempting to cut through the brash winds that prevented him from going anywhere. For anyone who has sat at the off ramp of 71 South at Polaris you know that you're most likely going to sit their for about three minutes. For the entire time that I sat there I saw this poor guy, this little black bird in the far off sky, flap and flap his wings harder and harder, but not get anywhere. I could feel his pain as he tried his best to move on but got nothing. He tried his darnedest only to be slapped in the face by the brisk sting of the coming evening chill. As the light changed to green and I set my foot upon the gas I began to speed up through the intersection just as the wind died down and my frustrated feathery friend was freed from the shackles of mother nature and flew away into the bright afternoon sky like John Wayne riding off into a sunset after a gun fight and winning the heart of a beautiful damsel in distress.

It made me think that through the past several months I too have tried my hardest to move on with my life. I gave it my all to move forward, only to be kept in the same spot for one reason or another. A rejection email for a job, losing out to a more seasoned and experienced candidate in the final round of interviews or being restrained by the reality of a stagnant economy and decreasing job market. I've flapped my wings faster and faster, day after day, in hopes to fly the coop and begin my ongoing journey of adulthood, only to be held back by the hurricane force winds of neglect and receding realities. Like that bird, I gave it my all and got nowhere.

But eventually there comes a time - when you least expect it and as you're trying your hardest - that the wind dies down, the skies open up, the sun begins to shine brighter, and you break loose of the realistic restraints of the "world" you're living in. You begin to make way towards those greener pastures, the righteous path and that new mountain that stands before you. You attack it head on and with the fiery passion of a thousand suns.

Just like the bird that I saw on such a majestic and trying afternoon I challenge you to continue fighting against those unexpected forces that are holding you back. Don't give up, never surrender, just keep going. Eventually you'll break free and begin your way to the promise land, whatever that may be for you. Accept the challenge and bask in the glory of the day when you are set free, enjoying the success of not giving up and becoming free of what's been holding you back.

Until next time...

Talking buses named Buster are scary...so is not understanding life

This past weekend I had the opportunity to be apart of a high school youth retreat with a great group of teens. Smacked dab in the middle of Saturday was a few hours of work for me at a community Family event. While I was there I noticed a friendly, talking, cartoonie-looking school bus named Buster reach out to kids about bus safety and such. It was one of those remote controlled deals where someone followed behind, directing it where to go and talking into a microphone that made the bus speak in a unisex, high pitched Darth Vader-esque voice. The thing reached out to kids, in a friendly, engaging way, but did neither. It did the opposite. It freaked them out.

Buster the talking bus scared the crap out of the kids. I watched Buster the entire length of the event. Kids would cry, grab a hold of their Moms. Some would pull a Matrix style maneuver to avoid being seen. One little lad even pulled out a gymnastics number of two cartwheels into a perfectly executed somersault, tucked into a triple deek just to get away from the thing.

It made me think. How often do we attempt to do something that is good in nature, involves nothing but the best intentions, but only to not understand what's going on, to grow scared and afraid or even doubt what is ahead of us, regardless of how entertaining, amusing or horrifying it may be. That one thing that makes the future freak us out.

At the retreat you could tell who was not wanting to be there the moment they hopped off the bus. Like most, you can pick out the teens who have come shut off, close minded and afraid to open up their hearts. Those who are unwilling to accept the Truths or let in the Lord. For me, I had two of those types at my table. Two freshmen boys. Like the little kids, afraid to open up or even talk to Buster, these two teens were hesitant to open up to the retreat, let alone to the thought of the Lord in their lives. They were not wanting (at first) to "buy into" what we were selling.

Like the attempts of using a talking robotic school bus to spread the word of school bus safety we use gimmicks, crazy icebreakers, songs with hand motions and Jesus freak jokes to ignite a flame of interest in the hearts and minds of the teens about a Christ focused life. Outside of ministry we use self-help books, trained professionals, alcohol and other stimulates to help us understand our life and what lays ahead.

Just before lights out on the final night of the retreat I had a teen approach me about problems in his life, worries and hopes for his future, and his fears of growing up. He opened up and it was great. Especially after sitting next to each other during Adoration and helping him prepare for Reconciliation answering his questions and praying with him. A one time closed off guy, now opened up to his faith and wanted to go deeper. There was no cartoon-looking, robotic Jesus that came up to him and spread His news, there was no marketing campaign or big hoopla, only a combination of an open mind and heart, willingness to let the Lord in and a bit of inspiration from a spiritual environment. Yet, so often we as adults fail to understand that we don't need to understand, but open up our hearts and minds to the challenges and frustrations that present themselves. Trust in the Lord, and His plan.

When I woke the guys up the second morning, after only about four or five hours of sleep all weekend, the slow bodies of teens rose from their beds like youthful zombies busting through the earthly layers of pillows and blankets arising from their comfortable graves of nocturnal rejuvenation. Some faster than others. I called out to them "I don't understand how you can stay up so late and get up so early and still have as much energy as you do." Then one of the guys shot back without hesitation in a Buddha like demeanor: "We're teens...you're not supposed to understand."

How fitting is that? As we worry about finding our purpose in life, spend countless hours seeking out the next step along the path we follow on this journey, he strive to "understand." We mask our heavy hitting issues with marketing style lessons of hope and strength, we mask the truths behind what we think is "right" and "should be happening." When all we really must understand is that "we're not supposed to understand." That's the beauty of life. We live. We learn. We love. Imagine how dull and anticlimactic our lives would be if everything we wanted either magically happened or didn't with a quick snap of our fingers or tap of a magic wand.

The beauty of life, is that whether we're at the cusp of something greater, or trapped deep down in the depths of depression, what we must truly understand is that we're not supposed to understand. We're supposed to live our lives with purpose, through love of self and others. Striving for our mountaintops and serving those we come across. It is then that we will truly understand...and if not we'll constantly be running from something much more scary than a talking school bus named Buster.

Life at the free throw line

Imagine that you're standing at the free throw line about to take your one and only free throw to win the game. So much is riding on this shot. The game. The season. Your career. Your image. Everything rides on this one shot. A free throw. The distance between you and the rim is about thirteen feet. No one is standing in your way. No one can block your shot. It's just you, the ball and the rim. The lights dim on just you and the paint. The crowd silences. Sweat drips down your forehead. The ref passes you the ball. Seconds later it lands in your hands. You bounce it once. A second time. You close your eyes. Breath in slowly. Exhale slower. You open your eyes. Focus on the backboard. You bend your knees and dip with the force shooting you and your arms up towards the hoop. You release...

At this moment you have three outcomes:

1. You can miss. An airball, brick it off the glass or rim, it could bounce in and out teasing you, it can roll along the rim taunting you as you wish, as you pray that it goes in. You miss the shot.
2. It can go from backboard to the front of the rim, bounce over towards the back portion of the rim, travel westward to the left side and moments later fall in like a pinball hitting every possible obstacle in it's way.
3. Swish. Nothing. But. Net.

...as the ball leaves your hands it soars through the air. You hold your breath. Everyone around you hangs on tightly to whatever they can. You close your eyes and pray. It slowly makes its way, cutting through the thin air as it makes its approach. Time stands still. Your nerves grow in uneasiness, your muscles tighten, your heart pounds, baboom...babooom.....baboooom. Everyone watching holds their breath. What goes through your mind? How do you prepare for what's about to come? How did you get to this point? Where did it begin?

The free throw is one of the easiest and most challenging things in the game of basketball, much like a penalty kick in soccer (a sport I'm more passionate about and can tolerate). Although very simple and with no one in your face a free throw can ruin your career or at least be your Achilles heal, just ask Shaq. It's so easy, like you should just be able to reach forward and just set it in the net, but still so many players struggle.

I was shooting around at the rec and decided to try my best at nailing as many free throws as I could out of ten shots. Usually, I make about seven or eight, which I'm alright with since I stopped playing basketball in the sixth grade. When I tried this week it was like I couldn't even hit water if I fell out of a boat. I made one out of my first six or seven shots. It was so bad that I missed all the way up to my tenth shot and convinced myself that I can't quit with a miss.

A bit frustrated by the outcome of this silly personal contest, I grew determined to make another free throw, I was on a conquest now. I set my eyes on the basket, took a deep breath, bounced the ball once and a second time, bent my knees and threw my arms up and released my shot. It soared to the basket and the next thing I heard as the sweet sound of the ball hitting nothing the net and coming down to the floor. It was exhilarating. On the eleventh shot I made it. On the eleventh shot I did what I couldn't do on my first nine out of ten tries.

I went one for ten, which in baseball isn't even good, but it took my eleventh shot to succeed again. It made me think how challenging something so easy can be. Furthermore, how frustrated I got when I couldn't succeed at something so damn easy. It made me think how it relates to my life right now. I've applied and applied for jobs, just as many of you have or are doing, but never seem to hear back; or maybe you're a businessman and you're coming up short deal after deal; or you're asking out cute girl/guy after cute girl/guy, but always getting a "no." We all have our own story.

We can go 0-2, 0-5 or 0-10 and either way it still sucks, but if we lived our lives where we just gave up because things weren't going our way or because our cards weren't stacked in our favor we would never succeed. We would never get anywhere. We would never live. I'd rather live a life where I failed but lived, than live a life where I failed to live.

An older gentleman who comes into the rec always tries to fill me with motivation and inspiration as he asks about my life and job search. We've known each other for years, since my days in high school. He would come to football games and would hear my name called over the PA system when I'd come into the game to punt or kick a field goal. So one day, way back when, he became a friend of mine while I first worked at the rec.

One day recently, he could tell I was down and out about my job search and shared a story with me of an old employee he was interviewing. He worked in the insurance industry and needed reps to go to peoples houses and meet to discuss insurance plans. He had interviewed many candidates before this guy and always came up short finding a motivated, determined person. He had one question he always asked in interviews, and never got the answer he was looking for. If you went to ten houses and went 0-10 on getting a new client, what would you do, he would ask.

The man took a moment to think. Then he looked him in the eye and said I'd go to the eleventh house.

Life is all about what will happen next. Every miss. Every strike out. Every email declining you of a job. They all just bring you one more closer to what you're supposed to get. Just like my free throws, I could have stopped at ten, but I knew that I would eventually get one. Sometimes we blind ourselves of the reality of what's happening. I'll be the first to admit it. When the ball is in our court we might brick it, it might even bounce all over the place and tease you, but end up falling short...or you can bank that shot. At least you tried.

So often we get so upset, distraught and depressed that nothing is going our way, but if we stay the course, if we open our eyes and we keep moving forward we will get there. We will make that free throw, we will win that girl/ guy's heart, we will land that job. Even if you're batting 0-10, there's always that eleventh.

Until next time...

Ohio might be for lovers, but Cleveland is for heartbreak, but there's always next year

It's a sad, but true fact that the great city of Cleveland is lacking what it once had. The swagger. The respect. The wins. You get the point. Years have gone by since a championship banner was raised in Cleveland. The years of the Cardiac Kids are well behind the newly formed losing traditions of the Browns since returning to the NFL. The Indians of the 90s of Nagy, Alomar, Baerga, Thome, Belle and Vizquel and their World Series misfortunes are only but a dream when watching the tribe today. The Cavs of Price, Daurgherty, Ehlo and Ferry have been overshadowed by The Decision and the "Chosen One" leaving his home...Cleveland...for the record I never chose him as the one, did you?

A city that was full of promise, pride and quality sports is now overrun with hard times, crime and unfortunate turns in the economy. Corrupt politicians have led the city down the wrong path for the past few decades, with little desire for change from the citizens, except for more of the same. You know it's bad in Cleveland that when Dimora and is rag tag team of about 25 merry corrupt men were taken from public office and thrown into prison and no one outside the Cleveland covered it. A recent Men's Health article gave Cleveland an F for the best places for single men to live in the country and Men's Fitness Magazine gave Cleveland another failing grade for fattest cities for men.

Cleveland has become (unfortunately) a joke among the great thriving metropolises, a shame from what it once was in the days of Rockefeller and Carnegie. In the words of Rodney Dangerfield we "can't get no respect." The state up north, the one that looks like a mitten and is often referred to as the Armpit of America has given up the top spot of worst city in the country, so that Cleveland could be #1 in something. If that's true that Michigan is the Armpit of America, then most people (outside of Cleveland) must make us out to be the flabby arm skin that hangs below it.

LeBron embarrassed us on national television and we were made out to be evil fans and unappreciative. Now we actually have something that we didn't have with LBJ and that's called a team. A new concept for the Cavs. Yet, it's been two seasons and not once as he been knocked down while driving to the hole, given a "love tap" or even a hard foul just to let him know how we feel. It's surprising that a team that he nationally called out and said he could never win with wouldn't have hard feelings. Hmmmm.

James Harrison has knocked out Colt McCoy two seasons in a row and multiple other Browns, but never once did a linemen or receiver knock him on his tuckus or wrestled him to the ground after the whistle. Sure last season we knocked out Big Ben, the guy who with millions of dollars and a few Super Bowl rings still can't get a girl without the help of liquor and a public restroom. Not once was he given a bit of a push in retaliation for how Harrison cheaply abused Colt and Cribbs.

This past weekend Choo was hit for the second time by a pitcher who beamed him last season, sending him to the bench for a major part of the season. The benches cleared. Later in the game, the Cleveland pitcher hits a batter. Benches cleared again. The best part is that in the midst of both bench clearings was Jack Hannahan. He wasn't involved directly with either altercation, but he stood up for his team. Guided by his pride for team and town he defended what he is...a Cleveland Indian.

I don't know who he is aside from on the ball field. I don't know if he's a good person off the field. I don't care. Finally we have someone in a sports uniform of Cleveland who will go to bat for his town in more than one way. He has pride for town and team, and for that I salute you...I might actually go to games now just because of that.

The city is evolving. It's becoming alive. It's a city for any foodie. The Rock Hall is bringing huge events. The aquarium has opened. The flats are being built back to life. Construction, expansion and development are seen all over. Movies are being filmed here. We have community festivals on the bottom portion of abandoned historical bridges. The casino is supposed to open sometime in May. Good days are drawing near. Neighborhoods are becoming communities again; working together to keep crime away and to draw up a sense of unity. Hospitals are popping up like money making dandelions in your front yard, some of them ranked amongst the best in the country. Heck, Cleveland's even made the trusty old grilled cheese sandwich into a trendy staple of deliciousness, three hour waits and a symbol of social elitism. Although not statistically proven Cleveland has the most attractive female news anchors (at least Fox 8's morning show does). I wake up excited to watch the news. Kristi Capel you're amazing! For our sports there really is next year. Two first rounders for the Cavs and two for the Brownies. Can't forget Great Lakes Brewery...I rest my case.

The "mistake by the lake" will rise again, showing that the real mistake was anyone who doubted it in the first place. Like any good underdog story it's the unsuspected hero who has the last laugh and that day is nearing.

Thank you Jack Hannahan for reminding me why I'm proud to be a Clevelander. Although I hope to take my talents to South Beach...of the Scioto in Columbus, you've instilled into me my passion for The New American City. Your testament of pride and passion has made me want to be a fiery ambassador for the city on the North coast just as you had in Kansas City.

To you sir, and to the city I know so well, I make a toast to you as I raise my Conway's in one hand a Slyman's corned beef sandwich in the other, and say with pride, as we have many times before: Can't wait for next year or the year after that.

Disclaimer: I don't condone fighting, nor do I like cheap shots or bad sports, but there's a difference between cheap shots and having pride for your team. Go Browns...please don't draft a quarterback in the first or second round, we need play makers. Kristi Capel, if you were to ever read this, I know you're married, only if you would've met me first, just saying.

Until next time...

Fifteen rounds with reality

There comes a time in all of our lives where we are faced with the brutal realities of life. That time where we look ourselves in the mirror and are unhappy with what we see. The moment when reality smacks you in the face with a 2 x 4 of truth. That unmarked crossroad of life where we stare down two roads: The road of righteousness and the down hill stretch of disappointment; only to remember that you forgot your map to help us decide which one is the correct road to continue down. That single instance that it hits you that this isn't what you're life is supposed to be like...cue sappy string quartet.

It could be the moment you catch up with friends about their upcoming job prospect that they were just offered. The quick glance at your Facebook news feed when you see seven new engagement updates, three side profile photos of that one time high school crush who is now expecting another bundle of joy or that one girl who always seems to have a new relationship update, while you sit by asking when is your time. That interview that you left thinking to yourself welp, not gonna get that one.

Funny how things work.

Sounds kind of funny, but that's when I turn to the likes of Rocky Balboa. What's even funnier is what I'm about to say, I believe that we all have a part of Rocky deep inside of us. We all have a little bit of the Italian Stallion ready to break free from the fenced in confines of our being. Now, if you don't know who rocky Balboa is, or understand any of the references, I apologize for wasting your time and want to save you another minute of your life as I suggest that you just skip on to another blog or on to something more worthwhile.

Rocky teaches us that you can go twelve rounds with any opponent in life. A rival, an enemy, addiction, heartbreak, death/ loss, anything. He proves that anyone can go toe-to-toe with any challenge and persevere through determination, dedication and a chip on your shoulder. Because like he said in Rocky Babloa "Nothing will hit as hard as life." How often we forget that.

I've begun to struggle with that a lot lately, especially with recent interviews and opportunities, frequent reminders of how "far behind" I am to most of my peers and how depressing it is to work part time at the same place I did in high school. Then it dawned on me - while watching Rocky IV - that everyone's journey is different. Everyone's path differs in challenges, terrain, obstacles, levels of difficulties, etc...cue Rocky Balboa training montage with groovy 70's and 80's techno music.

While some of my peers value a few years of hard work building a foundation at one job and some growing into miserable machines; I chose two full time stints, a summer gig in the mountains and part time opportunities just to seek out more opportunities to fine tune my skills and seek out a fulfilling trade. While some peers chose to actually embed themselves into corporate America; I chose to leave and find a personal purpose that will help protect me upon my return. As some married themselves to the one they love most; I chose a courtship with curiosity, an affair with adventure and a spouse in spontaneity...all three new to my life since graduating college.

All of our lives, although extremely different, are filled with similar stories, setbacks and sad truths. And if there is anything that I've learned from watching many Rocky Movie Marathons on Spike, it's that no matter who you are, where you're from, whether you're a rookie, a veteran, a has-been or a never-was-been we can all fight, we can all go twelve rounds, fifteen rounds or even twenty rounds...when fighting in the ring of life.

So in the words of Rocky Balboa we must remember:

"The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It is a very mean and nasty place It will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me or nobody is going to hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard you hit, it is about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward, how much can you take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done!"

Ding. Ding. Ding. Round One. Fight.

Until next time...

Punching bag of truth

I ran into an old classmate not to long ago. We weren't friends nor would I consider this person, who I'll refer to as that guy, an acquaintance. I didn't know that guy, nor did that guy know me. Yet, all through high school that guy was nothing but rude and a bit of a bully.

I don't know much about that guy, nor did I make an attempt to, but I assume that it was that guy's friends that brought out his meanness, the pressure of fitting in and keeping with the "tough guy" image most likely provoked it...it doesn't excuse the fact that he was a royal ass bag.

For a long time now it's been my message to the teens and others around me that we shouldn't hold grudges and that we're called to forgive, yet I couldn't come to terms with. It was hard to restrain myself from going up to that guy and saying:" Hey dude, remember me? You were a jerkus back in the day and I can tell that you're doing quite well. You look healthy, maybe a good 35 lbs. heavier, your tats look great I'm sure the ladies love 'em and that's why you're not married..." or something like that.

It wasn't until I had been in the same room as him for a good few minutes that I convinced myself that I should strike up a conversation and get over myself, but decided it best to wait until next time since it would be weird to just talk as I'm about to leave.

My point is this, grudge or no grudge, having pent up frustrations or anger towards someone who was a royal Delta Bravo (DB) to you in the past and shunning him or her makes you no better than that guy. Look at any genuine difference maker in the history of the world: MLK, Gandhi, JC, George Washington, the list goes on. They all befriended anyone and everyone to continue on changing the world. It wasn't until today that I realized my inability to get over my selfish mindset towards a past forgettable memory makes me no better than that guy himself while being that guy to me all through high school. By being full of angst and anger makes me just as bad as the bully himself...and I'm better than that.

I'm sure that we've all been there. Stuck with a past fling, a former bully, a boss you can't stand, whomever that guy is in your life. It's time, in today's day in age, to get over ourselves and be that better man and become more accepting. That's the manliest thing you can do, especially in a society that needs more men to be men.

Happy Easter

The Romans had technological advances that would put the Industrial Revolution to shame...had they not collapse. The Chinese created a printing press before 0 A.D...but most didn't know how to read. Around the same time, they also discovered gun powder...but never gave guns to their soldiers. Humankind has potential, but ends up short in the end and doesn't always come through. Only one person has done it all and never disappointed...Jesus. Today he rises, after he died for our sins and even through death, he came through. Happy Easter everyone!

Batman ain't got nothing on me

Wouldn't it be great if life was easy? As if any time you were faced with a problem or an opportunity or find yourself standing at a cross roads a large arrow would appear and show you which path to take or even a cartoon-like figure would appear and in a Yoda-like way would guide you along the way.

Since I can't have God on speed dial, I'm looking for a sign...God maybe you could use the Matt Signal so I can see it and get it right. It would be our own special means of communication so when I'm lost or need answers, like now, you could use it so I know that I'm doing what you want me to.

...and what would the Matt Signal look like you ask?

I'm not quite sure, but it would be so much cooler than the Bat Signal. If I had to draw a picture it would shine brightly in the sky above me and would be an image of a large man with a Santa-like beard wearing a robe and sandals whacking a kid in the face with a 2X4 and underneath it, it would read something like: "It's me, listen."

Wouldn't it be great if it were that easy? But where would be the fun in life then if it were easy.

Until next time...

Your revolUtion begins with you

A couple of weeks ago I entered into a conversation before class with a few of the teens who had begun discussing the current issues facing our country. Rising gas prices, violence in other countries, increased unemployment, etc. The teens passionately shared their views and their hopes. The discussion was energizing. I proposed a question to the group: "Why don't you do something about it?" Their responses were typical of kids their age, and sadly the same most Americans tend to go with, and that is that they are not able to, are too young or not in a position to do such an act of valor.

I told them they were wrong. I said it doesn't matter how old you are, what you do, or who you are. If you don't act, who will? Write your Congressman, educate yourself and others, create a mini revolution, etc. They laughed at me, so I used it as a "teaching" moment.

I said: You know, Mary was your age when Gabrielle came down and told her about what was going to happen and she accepted. She was young and made a difference. We still talk about her decision today. A good number of our Founding Fathers were in their twenties and considered revolutionaries. The founder of Facebook is a college drop out and a bagillionaire...

The point of this story isn't to spark a revolution or even discuss current events. The world is a scary place. Society is scary. Life tends to suck and there isn't enough time to do everything we need to do, let alone want to do. The point is that when we look at our own lives we can do one of two things. We can sit back watch it go by, complain about how shitty it is, worry about tomorrow and try and get sympathy from anything or anyone that will give it. Or we can accept what's going on regardless of it being crappy,and make the most of it, then move on. A mini personal revolution.

I look at my own life. Just the other day I got the call from the job I anticipated would hire me. I had had two strong interviews and they made it sound like a done deal. The job that I thought I would have by the end of March, called to tell me that they were not going to hire at this time. Aside from that minor set back, I still live at home. There is no long term commitment of anything, and sadly anyone, in my life right now, nor is there anything concrete or clear. I could sit and sulk, but that's not constructive. I have analyzed my situation. I have reflected, worried, studied, prayed, freaked out and accepted everything...then I moved on. I have set out to apply for a job a day until I get something. Every "no" and every lack of response is just one closer to the one. I could be sad that I've batted 0-2 on the last two dates I've been on, but I've realized it's their loss and just makes me one more closer to the one. Writing, working out, hiking, and other productive tasks have taken precedence over worry, stress and the whoa is me mentality.

It reminds me of a story that I once heard about when the Master talked about a priceless antique bowl that was worth a fortune at a public auction. For years it had been used by a "tramp who ended his days in poverty, quite unaware of the value of the bowl with which he begged for pennies."

His disciples asked what the beggar's bowl stood for and his response was "your self!"

When they seemed puzzled, lost and confused, he responded with: "All your attention is focused on the penny knowledge you collect from books and teachers. You would do better to pay attention to the bowl in wish you hold it."

As we live our lives worried about tomorrow. Scared for what lies ahead. Nervous about where we are in our social standing, where we sit in the hierarchy of friends and if "we're where we need to be." We should really not dwell on nothing more than where we are right now. To become focused solely on ourselves, today, whether good or bad. We must accept what we know of our lives right now and work to make the most of it as we press on. Like the beggar we hold our own bowl that is worth more than anything in the world and must make the most of it and that's our own life that we get to live. We only get one. Live it today and worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes...just remember we can only control the next three seconds. One. Two. Three. Repeat.

Until next time...

Save Me - Teenager Statistics

Unfortunately, this is the sad truth of what it's like to be a teenager in today's world. Makes ya think a little bit about what is wrong and missing in our lives...

The not -so-"Churchy-type" don't belong in Church?

About two weeks ago I was sitting before Mass with a group of high schoolers from one of the youth groups I am apart of. As we quietly awaited for Mass to begin I over heard two senior girls begin to sounds disgusted at something. From my prayerful state I leaned in to listen to what had made them grown so miserable. The one girl began by saying and unfortunately I quote: "Oh my God what is she doing here?" I looked towards the side entrance and in came a young girl with her mother, most likely a classmate of theirs. The other girl, just as taken back by the sight of this girl at Church, replied back to her friend with "I know right? I cant believe she's here."

Now i pride myself on not being an overbearing, super scary, Jesus Freak, nor do I get worked up over much of how people respond to their faith as long as their seeking out a deeper relationship with the Lord. I leaned in and asked if everything was OK? Both girls shot back that that girl was not a the "Churchy-type" and "they can't believe she is here." I looked at them, a bit saddened and all together disappointed at what I had heard.

Now there were two parts to this that really chapped my tuckus. The first item was that these girls were judging a classmate openly while in Church and secondly, these girls claimed that this young girl is not the "Churchy-type."

After Mass I pulled the girls aside while we were getting food before youth group and told them (and I paraphrase):

It's not our place to judge anyone in our lives and we all often forget that. We're quick to judge someone for something we've heard, seen, etc, yet we don't like it when people do the same about us, so it's not fair to do it to someone else. There is only one person that can judge...and you're not Him. As for her not being of the "Churchy-type," I think we've forgotten the example Christ live for us. We see so often in Scripture JC hanging out with the sick, the beggars, the lost, the weirdos and wackos. He was such a righteous and loving man that He calls us to accept and love all people, especially those we hate, judge or can't stand. So if this girl for whatever reason is not what you claim is the "Churchy-type" than most likely she needs to be here and we need to help.

It's hard to imagine how easy it is for us to judge others and talk about them behind their backs. I'm guilty of that and unfortunately I "constructively" did it today about a friend of mine. Yet, many who do so are also the ones that claim to be faithful, spiritual and religious. We forget no one, not even me, is perfect. There only has been two people that lived such a pure, faithful life and again, we aren't them...in case you were wondering who I'm referring to...JC and his momma, Mary.

In the news, online and everywhere we've heard all the political crap going on, we've seen stories about the young man's death in Florida and the outrage and claims of racism, there continues to be murders in our streets, school violence and bullying. Yet, here we are living our lives in a world full of all this hate and judgement and at some point we fall into, some days more than others. We don't get it.

Life's too short to judge others and if the big guy can hang with those that are not the "Churchy-type" than I surely can strive to do the same, because no one, no one, can determine that they are better than the next person or more Holy. Some people who have perfect attendance at Church and pray daily still commit sin and still fall down just like anyone else.

This week I have challenged myself to not judge another person or speak illy of someone behind their back and I believe the world would be a different place if we all did this in our daily lives.

Until next time...