A Holy Place

When I was in Seminary I spent a good bit of time in Catholic Monasteries which is funny because I attended Southern Baptist Theological Seminary.

But the great Catholic Monk Thomas Merton had lived only a hour's drive from Louisville so Bill Berry, not the former drummer for REM but the other one, and I would drive to Bardstown to spend afternoons at Gethsemane.

There's no interaction with the Monks but we would make our way to the balcony of the Chapel and watch them pray, which they do seven times a day.

It sits on wonderful lush hills permeated by a sense of holiness that's either manufactured by the Monks or we just believed it so it was true.

Later I discovered the much more opulent, but no less holy, St. Meinrad Monastery in Indiana and unlike Gethsemane, I had free reign of the place and wandered into Monk's rooms, the Chapel and the adjourning Seminary.

In terms of feeling holy, I enjoyed visits to Meinrad more.

There have been others though they don't stand up in memory test and I can conjure up only fleeting images of having visited.

What I do vividly recall is the search for holiness that I seldom experienced at the Baptist Seminary.

That was all a long time ago and I haven't visited a Monastery in decades but the search for holiness has never waivered.

There is a back deck affixed to our house filled with plants, a Chiminea my kids gave  me, a table under an umbrella, a wooden robot looking man who holds a potted plant and a ceramic frog with a silver ball on its head.

There are also signs proclaiming the site to be "Clothing Optional" and "Umbrella drinks served here" hanging underneath four wind chimes, each chosen by Sarah and one of her girls.

It's mostly bathed in brilliant sunshine during the day and blanketed by stars at night. The songs of the sea are easily heard from just on the other side of the Palm Tree with the oyster smile, coconut bra and grass skirt.

I have no idea why it's such a holy place but from the moment I step on it I can feel Divine things ... the way the leaves dance in the summer breeze ... the choirs of birds ... the shadows playing on the wall ... the feel of salt on my skin ... the pungent aroma of the marsh in the air ... a spot for drunken Angels to rest and collect themselves ... a spot where I collect myself.

God only knows why this is such a holy place.

Still Waiting

A year ago today I wrote about how "waiting is the hardest part," quoting Tom Petty.

I also invoked George Harrison's "It's takes so long my Lord."

Like today, it was a cold and rainy morning though the sun battled mightily for supremacy in a clouded sky.

I was in a stuck place, impatiently waiting on others to get back to me.

They weren't and it was really getting under my skin!

I was trying to holy about it, saying prayers and finding hope in the tiniest of things.

A lone bird perched on a wet limb burst out in a Hymn of Praise and I took it as a sign from God that everything was working out.

Well, a year's passed and I'm still waiting on some things.

I feel stuck and it's really getting under my skin though I'm trying to be holy about it all though just now when a bird started singing outside I closed the sliding glass door not wanting to listen.

Impatiently scrolling on Spotify I listen to Tom Petty for the hundredth time in the last several days (the 1985 live version!) so I can commiserate with myself again.

Sarah's not here so I can commiserate with her again.

Besides she's as frustrated as I am.

So it's just me, Tom Petty, the dogs and God.

"Hey God," I say out loud. "Why is this taking so long?"

Laying at my feet Goddess sighs loudly.

"You are not speaking for God," I tell her so she rolls over wanting a belly rub and I give her one.

"Alright," I sigh sitting back down. "Time to get back to work ... waiting."

But somehow ... I don't know why or how ... it feels right ... faith-like ... the assurance of things hoped for ... the conviction of things not seen.

And the sun overcomes the clouds and the world is baptized in light.

Ghosts in the fire

The sun hangs muted in a grey sky. Ocean breezes are chilled though it's not cold yet I have a fire in the Cheminea for comfort more than warmth. The birds are silent while squirrels frolic in the trees. Soft music streams proclaiming everyone's gone to the moon.  Holiness reigns and I feel Angels though I can't see them.


I sit in prayer but it's a perplexing one sided conversation.

God doesn't feel like talking so I finally shut up and stare at the fire.

Sarah meanders into the kitchen, lost in thought drinking coffee while writing herself notes.

The sun escapes the clouds and for a second everything is bright but it doesn't last and grey returns.

The faces of old friends dance in the flames as I continue to stare. One after another they parade pass though they are long gone from me. We were close once but they were moments in time and have moved out of my life.

I wonder if they ever think about me.

I was really there for them, pulling strings and doing magic, helping them get to where they wanted to go. Most never said "Thanks", just taking what they needed and moving on.

Why am I thinking about them now?

Throwing Palm fronds in the fire, they crackle and hiss chasing the ghosts away.

The vacuum cleaner sucks and blows from inside the house reminding me there are things to be done. A few friends arrive later today for fellowship. Afterwards, we'll make our way to the American Legion for an hour of good music.

"Hey God," I say out loud, "you don't have to say anything but I appreciate the friends I've still got. They're damn good ones! Sarah too! I don't know what I'd do without her. All the kids! That's all. Just thanks."

As I turn to walk inside the sun bursts brilliantly through the clouds.
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Working out love

"Do not be anxious about anything," St. Paul writes in his jail cell, "but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your request to God."

I suspect the old Apostle's request to God was "Get me the hell out of here! I'll thank you later!"

And in time, he eventually did get out, though it's unclear how much, if anything, God had to do with it. He'd done his time and they needed the space because it's always brisk in the jail business.

I've known and visited lots of people in jail. I offered housing to many released from prison who had no home to go to so they came to me.

Over time it was easy to see virtually all of them were very religious people.

Faith is easier to find when you're locked up and lonely. With no one else to talk to, they talked to God.

"Please get me out of here," they beg, "and I promise I'll do better next time."

Like the old Saint, they were eventually released too with a chance to start over albeit with the albatross of a criminal record that greatly reduced the opportunities facing them.

Because I have the "REV" in front of my name, they shared their stories with me, made confessions or asked my forgiveness for things I knew nothing about. There was a desperateness to their faith which I've rarely seen in religious institutions of any kind.

At the same time, I've never met anyone who isn't imprisoned by anxieties.  Everyone expects the worst even when they're praying for the best. We worry about most everything, sometimes to the point of becoming completely overwhelmed. The older we grow, the worse it seems to get.

Like the prisoner sitting in his cell, we long to be free too. Free to go somewhere else, be with somebody else, do something else and do these things completely free of fear.

"What's it like?" a friend asked. "I mean you get up every day and do what you want. You live where you wish and with Sarah who works with you. I want to do what you're doing. How do you do it? Aren't you anxious?"

"Sure," I reply. "Of course I am but so far so good. We're not certain how sustainable it is but we're giving it our best and we believe with everything in us that it'll work out in the end."

"There are two basic motivating forces," said the Major Prophet John Lennon, "fear and love. When we're afraid we pull back from life. When we are in love we are open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement and acceptance."

So I'm doing the things I love and doing them now! I'm afraid to put it off like lots of people do. So I'm going to keep working on the things I love with a belief that love works everything out so I don't have to worry.
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My To-Do List

My list of things to do today.

• Open my eyes. Thank God they opened and I'm given another day.

• Roll over, listen to Sarah breath and watch her sleep and thank God for having her to share this day with.

• Quietly crawl out of bed, sidestep our dog Goddess sleeping on the floor beside the bed and stumble through the dark to the bathroom.

• Sneak down the staircase to the outdoor shower, stand under the hot water and look up at the sky to see exactly what kind of day we've been given.

• Get dressed, give the dogs treats, kiss the top of Sarah's sleeping head and ride my bicycle to the Breakfast Club for coffee served with friendship.

• Open the outdoor office on the Beloved Back deck by 7:30 and get to work.

• Immediately stop whatever I'm doing when the Managing Partner arrives so she is greeted appropriately.

• Return to my office, thank God again for the day and dive back into whatever it is I'm working on.

• Around 10ish, the Managing Partner needs a snack. Again I cease whatever I'm doing to determine if a coffee break is in order. Some days the Managing Partner grabs a snack and immediately returns to her office. A lot of times she lingers wishing to talk. This is a good sign that we will indeed have a break in the Board Room with the bed in it.

• It's back to work after that but everyone in the office is extremely happy about it!

• Soon after noon, I close up the computer and ask the Managing Partner if she wants to have lunch. Coffee breaks give us the munchies so we take an hour for lunch. Often we discuss work but sometimes we remind ourselves to actually buy coffee.

• Around 1:00 we're both back in our offices working on whatever it is and continue through the afternoon.

• Then Sarah's girls get home from school and all Hell breaks loose as it's one big blur of boyfriends, snacks, homework, playing games, singing songs, phone calls, changing clothes repeatedly while demanding to know what's for dinner.

• After dinner, I return to my office to finish up and plan for the next day. Some nights there are classes I teach, orchestrated discussions and lots of social media management.

• Then the work day is over, Sarah's clocked out from being Managing Partner and puts the girls to bed which takes a couple of hours. While she's doing this, I'm sipping wine on the Beloved Back Deck or watching a game on the porch trying to unwind from the day.

• Once the girls are asleep, Sarah and I cuddle on the couch and talk about things. Sometimes she goes back to work but I'm toast by 10ish and am pulling her towards the bedroom.

That's the list of things for me to do today.

I just noticed that tomorrow's list is the exact same as todays.
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How Did I End Up Here?

How in the hell did I end up here?

Let me be clear about where "Here" is.

I'm sitting under an umbrella, on the beloved back deck of a house I love on an island I cherish filled with people I love and who love me.

Living with me is a beautiful, smart and sexy woman who would knock my socks off if I ever wore socks which I don't.

It is a beautiful morning, not a cloud in the sky, and the sun is playing a game of hide-and-seek between the lush subtropical wall of foliage that I call Fran's Thousand Shades of Green. A lovely breeze is blowing off the ocean and the leaves are dancing in celebration.

It's the day after a holiday and I don't have to physically go anywhere other than take Goddess for a walk beside the Back River where the pungent aroma of the Marsh is as intoxicating as sex on a hot summer's day.

I've got lots to do but this is the "Here" that I have to do it.

Back to the question at hand ... just how in the hell did I end up here?

My life's been a broken jigsaw puzzle full of holes where pieces used to be. Yet it somehow paints a beautiful, poignant portrait of a happy and content man whose heart is full of love and lust for the future. Behind his head is a rich tapestry of a wonderful life with some crazy made-for-the-movies action scenes!

If I were to plot it out on a graph, it would be one confusing chart. In Port Wentworth, Georgia Mom and Dad launched my life and I've been around the world only to land half an hour away from where I was born.

That's just the geography! If it were a relationship graph ... Holy Shit! ... it would like the angry drawing of a child with a red pen scratching back and forth across the lines, mostly outside of them. Through the end result has been three wonderful children, a wife I adore and her three little "blessings" who daily bring home confusion and laughter at the same time which is no small feat.

Yet here I am.

Which naturally makes me think of something Steve Jobs once said.

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma -- which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And, most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

To which I add ... yep.

Is it scary sometimes? Hells Yeah!

Do I want more security than I've got? Hells Yeah!

Do things still go wrong? Hells Yeah!

Would I trade?

No way in hell!

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Our House

The dogs bark and we know someone is at the door. They won't stop until it's open and they greet whoever it is, tails wagging in fast pace as they nudge and lick visitors into our home.

"Is that the gay dog?" is the first question as they point at Winston.

"Hey Goddess," they quickly say as she demands attention at the same time.

After following us upstairs, Goddess plops on the tile floor already bored. Winston, the little gay dog, prances to the large family sofa to observe everything from his perch beside the window.

In the Red Room they spy Sarah's workspace and linger for a moment to see things they've read about. Her desk is neatly organized with colorful files, notes and stacks of books she uses. The red room is full of windows and light allowing her to stare outside in thought if need be.

Continuing through the family room, we stroll into the kitchen with its two sliding glass doors, meaning that the entire inside of our house is bathed in light. It's a happy place.

In the kitchen, they immediately stare at the refrigerator covered with photographs of Sarah and I, our kids, and our friends. The pictures are held in place with Jesus magnets. Our guest stares at photos first begin to notice Jesus is everywhere!

"Jesus is coming. Hide your bong!" reads one and they either laugh out loud or shake their heads. At least one intruder announced that they are "totally unacceptable."

"Is that the Beloved Back Deck?" is the next as they peer out the sliding to the wooden deck with the large table under the umbrella.

Walking outside, the deck is colored with pots exploding with plants. Colorful red, orange, purple and green flowers are everywhere, surrounding the grill and the Cheminea where the girls sometimes roast Marshmallows and make Smores.

Shaking their head, our visitor sees the Palm Tree with the oyster face, coconut bra and grass skirt. The tree shares a smile with our guests as they also see the signs covering the fence. "Fish Naked! Show off your rod" and "Fish Naked! Show off your bobbers!"

"Is that Fran's thousand shades of green?" they ask pointing at the wall of trees surrounding three-fourths of the back yard. The sun cascades brilliance on the leaves resulting in every imaginable shade of green.

"Which house is the Cat Lady's?" erupts next.

We point to the right and they see several black feral cats lounging everywhere. Leaning over the deck they see the outdoor shower and we watch them calculating the view from her top deck down into the wooden structure. She can actually see naked from there?

One of two things then happen. Either we sit at the table under the umbrella or retreat into kitchen and get to whatever business we have.

Sometimes its work. Other times, it's friends stopping by to share. Most often, it's just Sarah and I, the girls and the dogs.

"Home is where they want you," says the Major Prophet James Taylor. "You can more or less assume that you'll be welcomed in the end."

It's our office, sanctuary, refuge, occasional wrestling ring for spats or struggles, and home base though we have the ability to carry home with us wherever we go.

The girls are away this weekend. The kids are all heading to Florida. Sarah and I have no plans other than to enjoy making home together in our house.