hannah and caroline and me

(part twenty-three)

what does this picture say?

caroline: "here hannah. can i help you with what you are working on? how about a pen? do you need this pen?"

hannah: "no, thank you, caroline. you are a sweetheart for asking, but, at this moment, i am perfectly content with life and have everything a kind-hearted five year-old could ever need."

caroline: "are you sure, dear sister? please let me get this pen for you. i can even press the top so that it will ring out a fabulous track from high school muscal 2. it will bring music to your ears just like you bring music to my life every time we share a most peaceful moment just like this one that mommy just caught on camera. "

hannah: "no, but because you've been so nice to me this evening, i will let you play with every one of my toys in the bath tonight. i will not swipe any from your grasp. and i will lean back and enjoy what a wonder it is to have a younger sister to share my tub and my days with. i love you, caroline."

caroline: "i love you too, hannah. kisses. "

bull.

shit.

i don't know how much of a surprise it would be to any of you that have children if i told you that immediately after this cute photo was taken, hannah stole the pen back out of caroline's wee, baby hands because "that's mine, caroline!" and stabbed her younger sister in the neck. there was blood. there was screaming. there was gnashing of teeth. caroline proceeded to crane-kick hannah's front two teeth out. hannah then responded with the five point palm exploding heart technique, masterfully executed on the sweet baby, baby girl. caroline, resigned to her fate and at the same time impressed with her sister's skill, slowly took her bib off, wiped with it away the blood now slowly dripping from her sweet baby, baby girl lips, tugged on her mommy's pants-leg, gave her the sign for milk and fell to the floor, her spirit leaving this battleground that is our kitchen forever.

(and...scene!)

hannah: "well played, caroline."

caroline: "you don't think i oversold it?"

hannah: "definitely not. it was brilliant."

caroline: "you are too kind."

so, maybe the karate kid/kill bill death duel didn't really happen, but it feels like some degree of it happens almost every night. and i think that's why we haven't had a "hannah and caroline and me" installment in over a month and a half. they make me too tired. they make me too frustrated. they piss me off all the time. and they don't listen (nevermind the fact that caroline probably can't hear. hannah doesn't have that excuse.). ever. "hannah, do this." "hannah, do that." "hannah, stop pulling your sister's eyes out." "hannah, upstairs." "hannah, no!" "caroline, no!" "caroline, please stop crying." "caroline, that's your sister's." "caroline, don't go up the stairs."

sarah, can we please put them to bed? send them to your mom's house? bus them to aunt joan? something?

and then hannah drops this nugget on me after i picked her up today. i told her that her sister had to go to the doctor this afternoon, because she didn't need to be sick when she went to get her tubes put in her ears next week.

"daddy, i love my sister. i hope they fix her ears."

"they will, baby." "they will."

you had to hear the tone of her voice, really, but she could not have been any more sincere or caring if we were bribing her with the lie that hannah montana, herself, would be babysitting her this weekend. it wasn't provoked. it wasn't premeditated. it was unconditional and beautiful and further evidence that i am a complete dick most of the time in the way i handle the interactions of a five and a one-and-a-half year-old when they are both tired from long days at school.

dammit.

i love you, girls.

no, really.

funny or sad


imagine, in spite of surrounding yourself with all sorts of greatness, in spite of being in and around one of the most popular rock bands of a generation, you are known in the minds of most adults my age for one super-blunder. imagine throwing a big, heavy bass way up in the air during the mtv music video awards in 1992. you've thrown and caught your bass too many times to count, but this time you miss. imagine it hits you in the forehead, knocking you silly. you would say in interviews after the fact that you were fine, just playing when you stumbled off-stage and into infamy. imagine all of the shows you played, records you created and lives you changed, you with your band and your influence, but all anyone remembers is that time when you let your bass smash your face. you've just imagined my memory of krist novoselic.

i laid on the couch this afternoon watching a horribly frustrating documentary on kurt cobain. for over an hour i waited to see the face responsible for the interviews that i was hearing cuts and pastes from, but all i received were images from cobain's past, towns he lived in, people he may have passed on the street. maybe i was missing the point. maybe it was more arty than i was in the mood for. maybe all i wanted was to see cobain talking. but since i couldn't see him, my mind wandered through my own memories of the band and the way it had influenced me during my middle and high school years. maybe that was the director's point. if so, screw him. i hated his movie.

i do love the contradiction in metaphor that novoselic always was for fans of the band. it didn't help matters that he always wore kind of a dumb look on his face, let cobain do most of the talking in band interviews, loped around the stage like he was only into playing about half the set. the one time i saw nirvana in person, i found myself amazed at how little fun the bassist seemed to be having. i remember my friends and i talking about it afterwards. then again, we were young and our expectations were that this life that this band was living was the ultimate. who wouldn't want to tour the country, tour the world, and play music every night? well, come to find out, as a unit, nirvana didn't more than they did. as people, they got along and understood themselves and their sum to be greater than their personality quirks and conflicts. they made great music with hooks to spare and found themselves in the rare air of pop-culture immortality. and together, they will always be remembered for what they were. a band whose fame transcended even their way-better-than-average talent, just so happened to be in the right place at the right time, and fell predictably into the cautionary tale category.

singularly, they were much less interesting. and singularly, they are annoying. cobain's backstory never really did it for me. the tale of hardship and angst and life on the outskirts rang all too familiar, but the fact that he gave up on it all completely lost me. dave grohl found his own voice, i guess, tried his hardest and continues to find fame with his very lame rock band. i attempted to like foo fighters. i really did. i just couldn't. i just can't. they're too much "i've heard every one of these songs before" and the only time i find them entertaining is when they are playing some stadium-massive charity event and, for schtick's sake, grohl climbs behind the kit and bangs away at his drums. out of the three, nowadays, i find novoselic's story the most intriguing, only because it is the most tragic in my opinion.

one fuck-up. one moment in time. one time he threw a bass up in the air and missed it. one time, as far as i know, it hit him on the head. and because of that one time, he's forever labeled as a goof. not worth our time. not worth our attention. no longer immortal. for once and for all, just like us.

when things like his "moment" go down and when they happen to the people that find their way into our life or conscious, you find yourself into one of two groups. the first? the group, like sixteen year-old me in 1992, that laughs, points fingers and completely dismisses the rest of his or her life as a joke at worst, at best not credible. the other? the group capable of empathy, realizing that we are all a joke at our worst and at our best, we are not very credible.

sitting here sixteen years later, i want to believe that most of the time i am in that second group. i caution my staff all the time to look at the context and not the clue. see the bigger picture. the customer isn't an asshole, he or she is just having a bad day.

laying on the couch today, i was reminded otherwise. during my most instinctive moments, i think i am still very much in the first group. i still think of that bass hitting his head and laughing. i still remember that time you talked about me and you didn't know what the shit you were talking about . i still dwell on that time i thought you forgot about me. and most of what you say to me must fight it's way through a very defensive filter before i let you back in.

this is something i'll keep working on.

"when i've got the music, i've got a place to go"


i think the most nervous part about this past sunday wasn't the delivery of the announcements or the psalter reading or the prayer or the gospel lesson. while all of those things and my doing them well would contribute to each and every worshiper's experience, it wasn't the execution of those things that would lead to most of my pre-game nausea. not this time. there was a time in my life, not so long ago, that i felt like i was pretty in-tune with the Big Fella and his grand plan. every lesson, every talk, every conversation felt like something that He would approve of in some form or fashion, even if it took a little rationalizing convincing from my end. sure, i would be awash with the butterflies and the migraines that i spoke of last week, but i could almost count on the wonderful release of that tension as soon as i got started with whatever song i would play or whatever message that i would deliver.

chris perry, andy, kiker, others and i have all talked at length about the enormity of being an active spokesperson for, you know, god. we've all talked about the pressure we have felt right before the curtain goes up, acknowledging that something we say may butterfly-effect a person in any number of directions, some good and some bad relative to their relationship with the creator we subscribe to. it was never something that i felt like i was selling, per se, but more representing. here's what i believe in. here's how it's changed my life for the better in my opinion. here are some steps that may be helpful to your own journey. take it with a grain of salt if you'd like. as long as you'd take it, please. there is nothing that i can do in front of any one person that will convince them that my convictions are worth hearing. all i can do is hope that i don't completely turn them off to my opinion being an option for them too. and therein lies the crux. the central point was never the delivery or the after-effects. it was what happened in the meantime, meantime being defined differently to every one i've ever encountered.

for instance, you may not think that the new propagandhi record dropping in three weeks is worth planning your life around. you'd be wrong. you might not think that music should be played loudly. you'd be wrong. you might not think that music should be about any more than love or bruce springsteen or the love of bruce springsteen. you'd be wrong. you might not think that music should challenge you. you'd be wrong. you might not think that propagandhi could change your life. you'd be wrong. but you'd at least think that wasting your time reading my retarded opinions regarding some stupid punk rock band elicited your own thoughts and feelings on the matter, right?

right. so, when i used to work (or got paid for it) for god, i got to the point where i felt like the release of every ounce of nervous energy in my body right before i spoke for Him was His way of saying, "go get 'em, tiger. (or something else supportive that kirsten dunst may say to spiderman)" it didn't always get rid of the migraine, but it did make me feel like i was on the right page. the enormity of the moment had paid off. i was doing what i was supposed to do.

but a lot of time had and has passed since i got paid for god work. the pre-game jitters were still there. that part felt familiar. in the time that had passed, though, i had cussed a lot. spit a lot. yelled a lot. fought a lot. poked a lot. antagonized here enough to warrant two separate comments from two separate senior pastors of humc. made a lot of errors at shortstop. missed a lot of open three-pointers. taken heroes off of my appointment television watch list. with all of these things and more working against me, who knew if god were even paying attention anymore.

and then it happened. i stepped up from my seat in front of the church, introduced myself and i felt the tension go away. just like in the old days. it was smooth sailing from that point forth, save one freudian slip. who wouldn't want to attend a "spaghetti summer". i know i would!

there are all sorts of explanations as to why i felt good and confident and sure that i was speaking for someone other than myself sunday. it could have been the routine of it all, like riding a bike. it could have been gerry's sweater. it could have been all the smiling faces that i could make eye contact with. i am certainly willing to acknowledge any number of scientific and/or psychological reasons exist that would explain my peaceful, easy feeling standing in front of my church a few mornings ago.

i choose to believe it was something spiritual.

i choose to believe it was god.

and i thank Him for being there with me.

the world comes to an end on march 10th, 2009
(hug your loved ones now)


first person to comment and tell me what the hell i am talking about gets a free breakfast, lunch or dinner (of their choosing) the next time i see them and have a chance to pay for your meal.

i will die a happy man.

a pastoral prayer


something will be lost without the delivery i guess, but i liked the thought of posting my "coming back out" to the church here for posterity. keep in mind, if you would, that this isn't really a post. it's more a cut and paste. to that end, you'll have to look past all the capital letters too. i don't have the energy to go through and HACAM-ize the whole thing.

Dear Heavenly Father,

If I didn’t know any better, I would say that I didn’t deserve so much of Your attention.

My life is filled not so much with vices, but many things that have taken much of my time away from You. I love softball. And basketball. And Alabama football. I have television shows that are much higher on my priority list than Bible study. And no matter how incredible and enveloping Lost is, how much it may or may not remind me of You, it’s not the same, is it? Maybe those things are vices.

My life is filled with worry, anger and borderline hate, all bad and unhealthy emotions that on a conscious level, I am completely aware of how detrimental they are to me and my relationship with You. Subconsciously, they gnaw away at me anyway. I’ve become accomplished at using these things as motivating factors in my life, but I don’t know if they are motivating me towards good or bad. Maybe that’s for another prayer. My life is filled with worry and anger and I clutch them like they are my security blanket.

My life is filled with unresolved conflict. Conflict that has been much easier over the last who knows how many years to avoid rather than confront face to face. What makes this matter worse is that most of the conflict that keeps me up at night is with my family, my friends and my church, all of whom would benefit every bit as much as me if we could sit down and tell each other how much we love the other. For this to happen, one or both of us would have to admit that we were wrong. That, Father, is easier said than done. And so, my life is also filled with unresolved conflict and, on most days, I would have it no other way.

If I didn’t know any better, I would say that I didn’t deserve so much of Your attention.

Thanks to this church, I know better.

Father, I imagine that my skewed priorities, my unhealthy emotions and my unresolved conflict share similar stories with everyone is this holy room this morning.

What a beautiful thing a community of faith is! Countless experiences, just like ours, that we can learn from and be strong because of...together. In our Sunday school classes, we use our time-tested and Jesus-approved relationships to understand how we can better walk with You...together. In worship, we lift our voices in the best way we know how to tell You thank you for not giving up on us, at the same time acknowledging our need to know more about the way You work...together. In our mid-week studies, we admit that we are not all Biblical scholars, but are enthusiastic in our journey to learn more from scripture and from each other...together. In our outreach ministries, we own Your challenge for us to take our faith and share it with the world, no matter how anxious it makes us. We do this...together. And when we are apart, in our homes, in our jobs, in our daily lives, we are better examples of You because of the time that we spend...together.

Thanks to this church, I grow and am growing in my understanding of how blessed I am to deserve your attention.

Father, I thank you for Huffman United Methodist Church. I thank you for everyone that is here worshipping with us today. I thank you for the history that we share, the tradition that we have forged and the future we have in front of us.

We are not a voice that has forgotten how to sing. Depending on the day, we may be singing different hymns, but we are still singing.

I thank you, Father, for our church health team. The first step in solving a problem is admitting there is a problem. Our church health team has identified that, to regain our potential, we must all be singing the same hymn, moving forward together.

I thank you, Father, for our Rev. Denson and his introduction to us over these last few weeks of the Natural Church Development idea and ideals, introducing to us that before a church can grow again, we must remember what it feels like to be healthy again. Please be with Chris today as he brings us Your word. Let us be open to the idea of being transformed in your spirit, and let us be open to how we can take that message with us as we leave this place.

For those that need our prayers today, Father, we pray for them. We pray for our church. And we give thanks to every person, place or thing that has brought us together in this place at this time on this day.

We love you, Father. As one body, as one church, as a community of faith that leans on You and each other ever day, we offer the following...

Our father, who art in Heaven...
...forever.

Amen

thank you to everyone that has said such nice things to me since sunday. it felt good and right being back up there. i hope to be invited again soon.

"would a liar bring mini-mounds bars!!!"
/ throws mini-mounds bars at unsuspecting audience


if you haven't seen the office from last thursday, well, you should go to nbc.com and watch it. it was a nice back to normal after the wackiness (also very funny) of the post-super bowl episode. now a few days removed from watching it last week, i favor the episode even more than i did at the time. the scene from which the quote above is ripped was one of three or four times that i laughed out loud during the show (jim and dwight as party-planning committee co-heads was equally hilarious), but the scene resonates on a different emotional level to me this morning.

not surprisingly, i have been giving a lot of thought to this coming sunday morning. i am serving as liturgist during worship and it will mark the first time in, gosh, almost four years that i have stood in front of huffman's congregation as a member of a worship leading team. it's hard to believe so much time has passed. and it's hard to believe how much has changed.

a thousand things are scurrying through my mind as the day approaches. i am having to remind myself to calm down. i am having to remind myself that no one will really care about my being up there if i do the job right (the offensive lineman theory. if you do your job, no one will ever know who you are.). it's not like i am preaching. i am only filling a role that must be filled every week. welcome the congregation. read the psalter. do a prayer. smile. shake hands. throw mini-mounds bars at people as they are leaving in the hopes that they'll like the tragically flawed guy that probably stumbled over the epistle reading. right?

it's so silly to put so much weight into such a small thing, but i am doing it anyway. since i last stood in front of the congregation, this blog was born, and on it, i've been quite critical at times of how our worship leaders have handled their business. that being said, there was always somewhere in the back of my mind that i knew i'd be back up in the front, putting my own self and my own "performance" out there for anyone and everyone to judge as worthy or not. and here's the deal. i cannot freaking wait. not to be a part of the "show", but to be a part of something that i don't know if everyone that reads scripture or offers an intercessory prayer on behalf of someone else fully understands the magnitude of. and what, exactly, is the magnitude of it? well, it may just be the most important thing you ever do in your life. no pressure, right?

now, truly, if pastors and lay folks alike ever gave this idea true thought before worship began, there would likely be vomit all over sanctuaries everywhere. wrapping your head around the notion of being god's voice during a worship service is, as marty mcfly would most eloquently state, heavy. i've been sarcastic about the "report card" that churches grade themselves by over the last several weeks. enough examples of claimed professions of faith or rising or declining numbers have been brought up in and around meetings i've been a part of that i am beyond irked. no answers have i been offered to my rhetorical question of, "who, exactly, is keeping score?". thus, i'll move forward assuming no one really knows. and if that is the case, then all any god-fearing god-lover can hope for is to plant seeds, right? plant seeds in a way that show a life built in relationship with a god that loves us more than we can comprehend to be an attractive thing and not a necessary thing. let's face it, people. there are many on this earth that are not currently living their life with salvation from eternal separation from god as a goal. hell, it may not even be an afterthought at this point. so, what for them? scare them with stories of that separation not only being lonely, but one of torture and flames and devils? fuck that. that's not my bag.

my bag is understanding that i am only one human being, blessed with an idea that a relationship with god makes my relationship with you better. and i take that relationship very seriously. going a step further and leading you or anyone in a worship experience bent towards pleasing and building a healthier relationship with that god? christ. i don't feel very deserving of that request. my experience and my ability to read makes me cut out for the job, but for many years i have understood the magnitude of it. and the weight will, more than likely, give me a migraine the likes of which i haven't felt since chris perry and i left huntsville.

if "getting it", if feeling like i know how important everything that happens sunday morning in worship is, whether it's me up there or someone else, if that's a bad thing, then i don't want to be right.

i can't wait for the opportunity. and i can't wait for the headache.

if i am tucked into the corner of the cry room prior to the service, though, don't worry. i am just working some stuff out. i'll be fine.

i'll clean up the throw-up after the service.

second verse, same as the first
(part two)


well, that happened.

kind of a weird day if you were like me and following the national signing day action most of yesterday. during the morning hours, the headlines were made by all sorts of schools not named alabama. ole miss, tennessee and lsu around lunchtime when they officially signed the nation's consensus top recruit in reuben randle. heck, even auburn made a splash, stealing away a longtime lsu wide receiver commit when, rumor has it, said wide receiver fell victim to a little second-fiddle syndrome and skipped town along with one other high profile, almost-lsu wide receiver that just so happened to land in tuscaloosa. the afternoon, though, went to alabama as the two biggest southeast fish left in the sea donned, each, their own respective alabama caps and rang in the new year the same way julio and his boys rang in 2008, with a mythical recruiting national title.

the most interesting part of national signing day to me, as i've gotten older, is the point/counterpoint that you hear all day. the point? national signing day should be a national holiday, recognizing that these classes are the lifeblood and the future of every college football program. the counterpoint? these seventeen year-olds don't deserve all of this attention and all of this hype when 98 percent of them are still months away from officially enrolling in their college of choice.

personally, i don't understand the counterpoint at all. what do you mean, "they don't deserve the attention."? if you are a college football fan at all, these are the names you will be cheering for come august! look no further than alabama's recently concluded dream season. just take a look at alabama's class of 2008. now count the names of those pesky seventeen year-olds (this time last year) that made significant on-field contributions for the tide later on in the same calendar year. i count seven or eight, and that comes nowhere close to the number that at least made it into a game and played some role, if even a minor one, in alabama running off an undefeated regular season.

now look at the class of 2009. if you can get past all the stars by the player's names, you'll see at least five or six, maybe more, that will figure seriously in the depth chart come this fall. you may not like the idea of high school athletes being treated as kings for a day, but again, in my mind, they deserve it. they will make or break my heart, as an alabama fan, soon enough. once they put on the crimson and white and once they screw up, all of a sudden i and the rest of alabama nation will curse their name as quickly as we championed it yesterday. so what? give them their day in front of a group of reporters and family and friends, all there to wish them well and see them on to the "next level". let them celebrate. let them rejoice. let them soak in what it feels like to be wanted and loved. soon enough, their college coaches will wake them from that dream.

the only point i will cede to those that argue that the fame and the hype surrounding some of the higher profile athletes is too much too soon is this. if seventeen isn't too young, what is? in ten years, will i be subscribing to some online recruiting site that is tracking the best and the most talented eighth graders? will i worry about which high school is recruiting them because some high schools have better relationships with the coaches at alabama? probably not, but it's a valid argument. but, when it comes to the attention placed onto high school seniors, let's face it, that ship has sailed. for better or for worse, these young men who have the talent to play football or basketball are about to make these universities buckets full of cash. they are about to make my and my friends' saturdays better, because their presence gives me the hope that my team is going to win. and the only thing they will get for that tangible and compensatory harvest is a free education. not a bad deal, mind you, but considering where some of these universities would be without the windfall of money that is brought to them by these "undeserving" seventeen year-olds that, as they mature, cbs, epsn, abc and others can market and manipulate into more and more massive and ridiculous television contracts, it's mere pennies.

so, please spare me the mock outrage and join with me in celebrating what we already know. these seniors, these seventeen year-olds are about to make our life a better place. hell, yesterday gave me mythical bragging rights over every male that shares my table at church on wednesday nights for another year. my life is already better.

congratulations, guys. and roll tide.

i hear nick saban doesn't expect much from his players and that his practices are really easy. no worries.

see you in atlanta in about eight months. virginia tech hits harder than pinson valley high school. have fun. i'll be cheering for you.

or yelling at you.

second verse, same as the first?


if you don't count 2006, when nick saban was riding in on the coattails of mike shula's recruiting efforts prior to his being asked to leave, wednesday, february 4th will mark the culmination of saban's second full and honest recruiting class at alabama. it's interesting how much has changed in those twelve months regarding the expectations i have of this new and just as important group of high school seniors.

it's not that i haven't been paying attention. it's not that i don't hope that reuben randle decides to come to tuscaloosa and leave his home state behind (which, hindsight proves, is about as likely as julio leaving his own state and his own mom last year was). it's not that i am not nervous about all this last-minute flirting trent richardson and dre kirkpatrick are doing even though one's been a verbal for nine months and the other most "experts" have him coming as a lock. these guys and this class is just as important to bama's continuing rise and eventual excellence as last year's was. it's just...different. you can only really fall in love once. same can be said for laying the foundation of a house. you can remodel and repaint and move the furniture around all you want, but it's still the same house, built on the the same slab of concrete. last year, after years of negligence and arrogance, the recruiting class of 2008 poured the foundation on the new house of the new, nick saban alabama era.

i don't want to take anything for granted. i am not counting any chickens prematurely. i just believe that nick saban is doing his due diligence and taking care of what he needs to. i will not be disappointed destroyed if one of the high profile fish get away wednesday. and on the other hand, it will not make my life if randle puts on a houndstooth cap in the same way it did when julio made it official this time last year. it matters. it's just...different.

speaking of foundations, i know andre smith leaving hurts. it hurts bad. anyone remember tyler love, though? i do. if he doesn't work out? d.j. fluker is already coming to town. remember that name. he'll likely follow andre as a first round pick in about four years. we already have our "star" at quarterback. if he doesn't work out, maybe mcelroy can steer the ship for a while. we'll just have to see.

that's it's a given that most "experts" have bama bringing in a top five class this year where last year was such a shocker says all you need to know about this year being...different.

i am still on edge. i am nervous. i am going to be leaning on kiker to bring me updates all day wednesday like he did for me last year. and i am looking forward to walking into church wednesday night with a big smile on my face, finding a bama fan's hand to shake and sitting down feeling like "we" just beat tennessee again.

you can only really fall in love once though.

everything else is just...different.