true love is wiping someone else's butt
(and i don't mean your baby's)


chances are, if you go to church this sunday, you are going to hear one of two sermons or some variation on one of two sermons. the first possibility could very well be titled, "go for the gold". some preacher that thinks himself relevant will seize the opportunity of the olympics beginning this weekend to urge we christians to "be all that we can be", "never accept second place in the game of life", or that, through years of hard work and dedication, insert church name here can change the world (and end up on a wheaties box). the second one is just as obvious but no less annoying. what's tuesday, people? that's right...valentine's day. this same preacher could very well point out to us that this commercialized, made-up, unrealistic day of romance is nothing when compared to God's love for us. hell, i've even used that one. hopefully, whichever of these two sermons you hear will motivate you to leave your sanctuary pumping your fists ready to knock the world out with some Jesus.

what is true love? what is the best example that i could think of? well, i thought of my brother brian again. he's been on my mind a lot lately. mainly because i hope he's still doing well. mainly because it would be nice to see him again. mainly, because i hope he doesn't get sad on valentine's day because most of his "loved" ones have hung him out to dry. he will never read this, but keep proving them wrong, brian. they want you to fail, so they can feel better about themselves. so that their rationale seems ok. keep proving them wrong. you are a man now. make them regret you. make them stay up at night wondering what on earth ever went through their head to convince themself that their life was better off without you.

dateline...huffman. going elementary school. 1987. brian is in second grade. on the playground swingset. somehow, someway, while swinging, brian falls backwards out of the swing and breaks both of his wrists. it's a pathetic sight, my brother in casts up to his shoulders for four weeks. now, brian and i were close, but the event led to a month that i will never forget. why? because for that month, when brian had to go to the bathroom and my mom wasn't home, i took him. he was able to figure out a way to make "number one" work on his own through some body contortioning. "number two", though? well, the casts just didn't allow for the cleaning process to happen without some assistance. so, i played his orderly for a month. was it gross? yes, it was. we didn't speak of it. ever. we didn't make eye contact. i helped him. we left the bathroom. after the casts came off, we didn't bring it up or joke about it. i didn't want to embarrass him. i don't think he wanted me to remember it. i didn't like it. but i didn't mind. he would've done the same for me. love most of the time is bullshit. but that shit (literally and figuratively) was real. nitty gritty. down and dirty. something that made us both, even though we were young, take a different look at how the world works.

i hope you leave church sunday pumping your fist and ready to inject some Jesus into somebody. but don't fake it. you can't do it half-way. you've got to be willing to get dirt under your nails. to break a sweat. and when the going gets tough? well, that's when you have to suck it up and wipe the world's butt.

p.s. - the last four episodes (potentially) of the best show on television during my 29 years air tonight. arrested development (7-9 on fox)...rest in peace.