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...