What better time of year is there to reflect on what this year has brought us? As I reflect on the reason we have a Christmas, indeed the reason we have a New Year or time at all for that matter, I am reminded of one thing: myself and my problems are small. That's right, indeed they are insignificant to the surpassing grace and majesty of our great God, who before time predestined us to the purpose of knowing, glorifying and enjoying Him. Are my problems things that must be dealt with? Certainly! but not to consume my time so that I miss the grace and mercy God has provided through them.
I am learning a very important lesson in rejoicing in all circumstances. As my wife stated in her blog, we have a lot to be thankful for this year. I have thought and thought about what to write and even attempted to do so about the many things that have happened to us this year, and I'll save that for my journal, but I am in no position to complain, which is what I would be doing. Instead of complaining I have focused my attention on rejoicing in Christ and what he accomplished, by putting on flesh, remaining God and yet still man, living and dying in perfect obedience, and finally rising from death heralding the salvation of man through him.
There is truly hope in these thoughts. Yes, my family's situation looks grim for now, but if God has brought all things together to accomplish salvation for those who would believe, why would I not hope that he will get us out of this dark period? Whether it be to live somewhere else or to die and be with him I rejoice.
I praise God for the blessings he has given us, even testing my family and those relationships to forge us in to the people he has called us to be in him.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
A brief snippit
Good evening! It's time for another wonderful blog by Micah Fowler. It's been a long time and I know all of my fans (okay so its actually just 1 fan) have been patiently waiting for me to write another blog. Life has been crazy, which is pretty much normal around here. I have been moping around a lot and am in need of some quality sleep and for some reason that is just not happening these days. For a brief update on life, here goes nothing.
Our good old friend Mr. Black Mold, who was given his eviction notice last month, appears to have come back. BreAnna and I (actually BreAnna more than I) are fed up and are looking at new apartments online, but aren't finding much in our price range, which is next to nothing. This problem leads to another issue, I've been posting my resume and praying about a better job for a little while now. E-max is a good company, but is not doing well economically. In fact, the owner is no longer taking a salary, the top execs have taken a 25% pay cut, and at least 3 people are being let-go. Fortunately, my job has a bit of security, because my department is the only one bringing in a constant revenue stream. Wheeeeee! Another fun aspect of all this is that our office is rearranging itself: consolidating from 4 floors to 2, so that the other two floors can be rented out as apartments. What this all means is that all the trash and junk from those two floors needs to find a new home on the other floors. Not fun, but that is work life for now.
Our good old friend Mr. Black Mold, who was given his eviction notice last month, appears to have come back. BreAnna and I (actually BreAnna more than I) are fed up and are looking at new apartments online, but aren't finding much in our price range, which is next to nothing. This problem leads to another issue, I've been posting my resume and praying about a better job for a little while now. E-max is a good company, but is not doing well economically. In fact, the owner is no longer taking a salary, the top execs have taken a 25% pay cut, and at least 3 people are being let-go. Fortunately, my job has a bit of security, because my department is the only one bringing in a constant revenue stream. Wheeeeee! Another fun aspect of all this is that our office is rearranging itself: consolidating from 4 floors to 2, so that the other two floors can be rented out as apartments. What this all means is that all the trash and junk from those two floors needs to find a new home on the other floors. Not fun, but that is work life for now.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Mikey Likes It!
It is too early in the morning to think, yet here I am waiting for the coffee finish brewing and thinking. After all there's not much else to do when you're about ready for work at 6:45 am. As I listen to the sound of the coffee pot gurgling, I wonder how many times I have heard that sound before. I grew up as a child who loved coffee. I would sneak the last sips out of my parents' coffee cups every chance I got and I can still remember the taste and going after that last tiny bit that never gets drained from the cup. In my mind, no matter what brand it was, it was "good to the last drop."
Thinking back to those younger years, most of my memories are associated with foods. I can remember watching Hawaii Five-O and eating fish sticks and french fries (though talking about it later with my mom revealed that we only did this a couple of times) sticks in my brain for some reason. I can remember watching The Price is Right and eating pickle-loaf sandwiches. Also, some of the remaining memories of commercials have to do with food: Indeed, "what would you do for a Klondike bar?", "how many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?", "Oscar Mayer does have a way with b-o-l-o-g-n-a." and "Mikey will eat it. He'll eat anything!" However, my memories are not merely limited to eating in front of the television.
Going to do almost anything outdoors with my family required a trip to Dairy Queen on the way home, where we usually got hot fudge sundaes and later the Blizzards of different kinds and sizes. Almost every little league game required those large thin Jolly Ranchers. In my "I don't like cake" stage, my mom made an orange Jell-o birthday cake. I couldn't stand celery and I made that known, especially to my grandma when we went on a family vacation together. I can remember one time when my dad was stationed in Ft. Dix, New Jersey and we had a lobster dinner on base and it was so good I can still remember the taste of the lobster dipped in butter. And when I was around the age of 12, I out ate my dad and uncles at an all-you can eat buttermilk pancake breakfast by eating 12 pancakes to their 9. I have always been able to put away the food. In the first 5 months of marriage I had gained 10 lbs and in the following 9 months (BreAnna's pregnancy with Elia) I proceeded to gain 30 lbs to a maximum weight of 215 lbs, how's that for a sympathetic husband? However, sadly I lost it all by Elia's first birthday, or rather in the two months prior to her birthday dropping to a skinny 170 lbs without even attempting too. I went to the doctor and he said I had juvenile diabetes (I was 23 at the time) and would be taking insulin shots the rest of my life.
I am and have always been a lover of food, not that I have ever had weight problems though, which is one thing that makes diabetes a difficult to manage disease. I want to be able to truly enjoy a meal without having to add up all the carbohydrates, because that can get pretty depressing at times. I don't want to have to check my glucose level before meals, after meals, or before a possible snack, or whenever, and I really don't want to have to write them down. Do I know the risks of out of control diabetes? Yes. Does that scare me? Absolutely. So what am I doing about it? Nothing. Why? Simply because I like food? No, that's not it. It is because I love having dinner with my family. Not watching them eat, while I check my blood sugar, write down the result, do the math on how many carbs I am about to shove in my face so that I am not the last one at the table, and give myself the appropriate amount of insulin. So, how long does this all take, you may be asking? Answer: an average of 1 to 2 minutes.
That is 2 extra minutes spent smelling the yummy meal my wife has worked hard to prepare. 2 extra minutes that I hear my children smacking their lips and telling my wife that she is a good cook. 2 extra minutes spent at the table that they are using to get done with their first helping so that when I finally start eating, the big question comes: "May I have some more (fill in the blank)?" and I get frustrated with them, because either I haven't even started on my first helping or I just had my first couple of bites.
I am such a sinful man that I admittedly place the satisfaction of my taste buds and belly in front of my own health. Call it gluttony, selfishness, or whatever else, I am guilty. Often I ask for forgiveness because I am not taking care of this vessel, but do not know where to go next. I turn to Scripture for comfort and realize that I have a misplaced hope. I hope that God will graciously grant a cure for diabetes, but I know that is not the certain hope of Christ coming in Glory. I know my hope for a cure is not the sure hope of having a glorified body. I also know that I am not to hope in body, for that is not what the Kingdom of God is about. Instead I am prompted to hope in the Glory of God and not food or cures.
Thinking back to those younger years, most of my memories are associated with foods. I can remember watching Hawaii Five-O and eating fish sticks and french fries (though talking about it later with my mom revealed that we only did this a couple of times) sticks in my brain for some reason. I can remember watching The Price is Right and eating pickle-loaf sandwiches. Also, some of the remaining memories of commercials have to do with food: Indeed, "what would you do for a Klondike bar?", "how many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?", "Oscar Mayer does have a way with b-o-l-o-g-n-a." and "Mikey will eat it. He'll eat anything!" However, my memories are not merely limited to eating in front of the television.
Going to do almost anything outdoors with my family required a trip to Dairy Queen on the way home, where we usually got hot fudge sundaes and later the Blizzards of different kinds and sizes. Almost every little league game required those large thin Jolly Ranchers. In my "I don't like cake" stage, my mom made an orange Jell-o birthday cake. I couldn't stand celery and I made that known, especially to my grandma when we went on a family vacation together. I can remember one time when my dad was stationed in Ft. Dix, New Jersey and we had a lobster dinner on base and it was so good I can still remember the taste of the lobster dipped in butter. And when I was around the age of 12, I out ate my dad and uncles at an all-you can eat buttermilk pancake breakfast by eating 12 pancakes to their 9. I have always been able to put away the food. In the first 5 months of marriage I had gained 10 lbs and in the following 9 months (BreAnna's pregnancy with Elia) I proceeded to gain 30 lbs to a maximum weight of 215 lbs, how's that for a sympathetic husband? However, sadly I lost it all by Elia's first birthday, or rather in the two months prior to her birthday dropping to a skinny 170 lbs without even attempting too. I went to the doctor and he said I had juvenile diabetes (I was 23 at the time) and would be taking insulin shots the rest of my life.
I am and have always been a lover of food, not that I have ever had weight problems though, which is one thing that makes diabetes a difficult to manage disease. I want to be able to truly enjoy a meal without having to add up all the carbohydrates, because that can get pretty depressing at times. I don't want to have to check my glucose level before meals, after meals, or before a possible snack, or whenever, and I really don't want to have to write them down. Do I know the risks of out of control diabetes? Yes. Does that scare me? Absolutely. So what am I doing about it? Nothing. Why? Simply because I like food? No, that's not it. It is because I love having dinner with my family. Not watching them eat, while I check my blood sugar, write down the result, do the math on how many carbs I am about to shove in my face so that I am not the last one at the table, and give myself the appropriate amount of insulin. So, how long does this all take, you may be asking? Answer: an average of 1 to 2 minutes.
That is 2 extra minutes spent smelling the yummy meal my wife has worked hard to prepare. 2 extra minutes that I hear my children smacking their lips and telling my wife that she is a good cook. 2 extra minutes spent at the table that they are using to get done with their first helping so that when I finally start eating, the big question comes: "May I have some more (fill in the blank)?" and I get frustrated with them, because either I haven't even started on my first helping or I just had my first couple of bites.
I am such a sinful man that I admittedly place the satisfaction of my taste buds and belly in front of my own health. Call it gluttony, selfishness, or whatever else, I am guilty. Often I ask for forgiveness because I am not taking care of this vessel, but do not know where to go next. I turn to Scripture for comfort and realize that I have a misplaced hope. I hope that God will graciously grant a cure for diabetes, but I know that is not the certain hope of Christ coming in Glory. I know my hope for a cure is not the sure hope of having a glorified body. I also know that I am not to hope in body, for that is not what the Kingdom of God is about. Instead I am prompted to hope in the Glory of God and not food or cures.
Friday, August 15, 2008
It's Gabriel's Birthday
Remember all of those things you say that you are never going to do? I have several of those and today, August 15th, I am reminded of at least one of those. As BreAnna and I were picking out names for our first son, we decided on Gabriel Micah. Gabriel was what he was going to be called primarily because it would be to confusing to call him Micah and because BreAnna likes nick-names and she was going to call him Gabe. At the mention of this I staunchly refused to ever call him Gabe and with good reason: If we took this long to decide on a name, why shorten it? He should be called by his given name. Well. . . it was not long before he was born and here he was: Baby Gabey, after all, our two year old daughter had to call him something and she knew he was a baby and that his name was Gabriel but had trouble with the name so we simplified. Now, he is called Gabe by all, although I more often refer to him affectionately as "son".
I have often asked myself, if he understands or appreciates that I call him son. BreAnna has alluded to the importance of a son in her blog at http://frenziedfowlers.blogspot.com, but I hope to flesh that out a little more here so perhaps he and I will more appreciate it.
First, I call him Son, because that's what he is. He is flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone. I am forever his father and he will forever be my son. By calling Gabe, Son, I am ever reminded of the responsibility of a father.
Second, I call him Son, because of the importance I place on having a son. I have always loved history, and throughout history it has always been important for a man to have a son. To have a son means that my last name, the name of my fathers, will be carried on one more generation. Until Gabriel's birth there had only been girls born into the family, I believe at that time there were about 10 to 12 granddaughters and no grandsons. For all practical purposes, it appeared that the Fowler name was fading. Now do not get me wrong, I love my daughters very much and I would not trade them for sons or anyone else, but I wanted my father to be honored by bearing a son, that his name might continue. I was already witnessing the end of the Wood surname on my mom's side of the family and that still saddens me, as I greatly love and respect my grandpa and would desire him to be honored by the perseverance of his name. Thus, I call Gabe, Son, because of his significance in the furthering of the Fowler family.
Finally, I call him Son, because it is a reminder to me of the sacrifice of Christ. The only begotten Son of the Father, who willingly did the will of the Father to the point of becoming accursed through death on a cross. It is the love between a father and his children, between father and son that I am most reminded of. It is of the love that accomplished its purpose, not simply for the greater good (i.e. that one dies so that more could live) for that is not the love of God. God knew the agony his son would have to go through for our transgressions, a slow and anguishing torture and death accompanied by physical, emotional and spiritual stress that no mere man could endure. God knew that his son would die, knew that it had to be done, that it was the only way and knew that his Son would rise again and be exalted. Gabriel, whether he likes it or not is my son. I pray that one day he will be an imitator of Christ, being sanctified by the Holy Spirit an adopted son of the living God. That Gabe will do the will of his Father God with unswerving faithfulness and duty to his Lord. I pray that as a father, though I know I fail often, he would see the Holy Spirit working in and through me to an imitator of Christ as well as a better father. May God grant us both his mercy.
I have often asked myself, if he understands or appreciates that I call him son. BreAnna has alluded to the importance of a son in her blog at http://frenziedfowlers.blogspot.com, but I hope to flesh that out a little more here so perhaps he and I will more appreciate it.
First, I call him Son, because that's what he is. He is flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone. I am forever his father and he will forever be my son. By calling Gabe, Son, I am ever reminded of the responsibility of a father.
Second, I call him Son, because of the importance I place on having a son. I have always loved history, and throughout history it has always been important for a man to have a son. To have a son means that my last name, the name of my fathers, will be carried on one more generation. Until Gabriel's birth there had only been girls born into the family, I believe at that time there were about 10 to 12 granddaughters and no grandsons. For all practical purposes, it appeared that the Fowler name was fading. Now do not get me wrong, I love my daughters very much and I would not trade them for sons or anyone else, but I wanted my father to be honored by bearing a son, that his name might continue. I was already witnessing the end of the Wood surname on my mom's side of the family and that still saddens me, as I greatly love and respect my grandpa and would desire him to be honored by the perseverance of his name. Thus, I call Gabe, Son, because of his significance in the furthering of the Fowler family.
Finally, I call him Son, because it is a reminder to me of the sacrifice of Christ. The only begotten Son of the Father, who willingly did the will of the Father to the point of becoming accursed through death on a cross. It is the love between a father and his children, between father and son that I am most reminded of. It is of the love that accomplished its purpose, not simply for the greater good (i.e. that one dies so that more could live) for that is not the love of God. God knew the agony his son would have to go through for our transgressions, a slow and anguishing torture and death accompanied by physical, emotional and spiritual stress that no mere man could endure. God knew that his son would die, knew that it had to be done, that it was the only way and knew that his Son would rise again and be exalted. Gabriel, whether he likes it or not is my son. I pray that one day he will be an imitator of Christ, being sanctified by the Holy Spirit an adopted son of the living God. That Gabe will do the will of his Father God with unswerving faithfulness and duty to his Lord. I pray that as a father, though I know I fail often, he would see the Holy Spirit working in and through me to an imitator of Christ as well as a better father. May God grant us both his mercy.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Happy Birthday Elia
Today is a day that I will ever remember. Eight years ago today, my first daughter, Elia, was born. It seems sad that the time has gone by so quickly, but I can remember the day as if it were yesterday and thinking of it still brings great joy to my heart. I can remember the pain in my wife's eyes, but also the joy after birth. I remember feeling helpless, angry, proud and very protective.
I felt helpless because I love my wife and to see her go through the pain of labor was an agony to me. I would have loved to be able to ease her pain, to have the right words of encouragement, but all my mouth could utter in the excitement was "You go, girl!" (FYI: Husbands, don't ever, ever, ever, ever say that while your wife is giving birth).
I felt angry, first at myself for saying "You go, Girl!" and the scolding I received. Second, I wanted to be one of the first to hold my brand new daughter. After she was born and the doctors and nurses went to take care of her they brought her to BreAnna to hold. It was a beautiful sight to behold. I announced Elia's birth to the grandparents and shortly after I got back to the room, the first set of grandparents arrived. I was overlooked and the next people to get to hold her were her grandparents. Instead of being number 2, I had to resolve to become number 4. I was angry. This was my daughter, I was there from conception, through pregnancy, and had a front row seat to the delivery, but was neither first nor second to hold my daughter. I was angry and still helpless. However, upon holding her for the first time, the anger melted away, joy was again restored to my heart, I was holding new life, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.
Holding Elia for the first time made pride well up in me. I was now a father. This was my child and I have been given charge over her for a time. I am responsible for her protection and care. I silently made promises that I knew I could not keep which are in line with being a perfect father. Oh, how I desired to be exactly that for her, but I knew/know that I can only do the best that I can by the grace of God who allows it.
From her birth till now, I have experienced the births of my other 3 children and I have never lost those senses of helplessness, pride and protection. Thankfully though the anger has been laid to rest, because I have gained priority over the grandparents and made my feelings known.
All of this to say: Happy Birthday Elia! I love you! I love being your daddy.
I felt helpless because I love my wife and to see her go through the pain of labor was an agony to me. I would have loved to be able to ease her pain, to have the right words of encouragement, but all my mouth could utter in the excitement was "You go, girl!" (FYI: Husbands, don't ever, ever, ever, ever say that while your wife is giving birth).
I felt angry, first at myself for saying "You go, Girl!" and the scolding I received. Second, I wanted to be one of the first to hold my brand new daughter. After she was born and the doctors and nurses went to take care of her they brought her to BreAnna to hold. It was a beautiful sight to behold. I announced Elia's birth to the grandparents and shortly after I got back to the room, the first set of grandparents arrived. I was overlooked and the next people to get to hold her were her grandparents. Instead of being number 2, I had to resolve to become number 4. I was angry. This was my daughter, I was there from conception, through pregnancy, and had a front row seat to the delivery, but was neither first nor second to hold my daughter. I was angry and still helpless. However, upon holding her for the first time, the anger melted away, joy was again restored to my heart, I was holding new life, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.
Holding Elia for the first time made pride well up in me. I was now a father. This was my child and I have been given charge over her for a time. I am responsible for her protection and care. I silently made promises that I knew I could not keep which are in line with being a perfect father. Oh, how I desired to be exactly that for her, but I knew/know that I can only do the best that I can by the grace of God who allows it.
From her birth till now, I have experienced the births of my other 3 children and I have never lost those senses of helplessness, pride and protection. Thankfully though the anger has been laid to rest, because I have gained priority over the grandparents and made my feelings known.
All of this to say: Happy Birthday Elia! I love you! I love being your daddy.
Friday, July 25, 2008
A Worm?
I am currently thinking of the line in "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" where the Sheriff of Nottingham is talking with his cousin. The cousin asks: "Why a spoon cousin?" To which the Sheriff replies: "Because it hurts more you twit."
I feel that my readers may be asking the same type of question in their mind: Why a worm? Well, it is a long tale which will probably take between 5 and 10 more lines to tell or maybe more, so brace yourselves.
It has been probably 14 years since I first pondered Psalm 22:6, " But I am a worm and not a man, A reproach of men and despised by the people." It is often I have felt this way, some might even label this as depression, but I feel more like King David, the author of this psalm, because there is hope in his God. For David does not stop there in the "pit of despair", but cries out to God for deliverance so that God's name might be praised and he continues to praise God as the creator of life, the one who rules over all nations, the only one who can provide the complete salvation that David needs from his most dreaded foes and thus, God has accomplished it. God has provided for worms, such as David has described.
God has provided a means by which all those who are feeling like worms might be delivered from their most dreaded foe. Whether they realize it or not that dreaded foe is God. For only by God's provision of a pardoning grace can we be delivered from His wrath. Romans 5:10 declares what this provision is, "For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life." It is in this provision that I find myself, though still many times feeling like a wretched worm.
I feel that my readers may be asking the same type of question in their mind: Why a worm? Well, it is a long tale which will probably take between 5 and 10 more lines to tell or maybe more, so brace yourselves.
It has been probably 14 years since I first pondered Psalm 22:6, " But I am a worm and not a man, A reproach of men and despised by the people." It is often I have felt this way, some might even label this as depression, but I feel more like King David, the author of this psalm, because there is hope in his God. For David does not stop there in the "pit of despair", but cries out to God for deliverance so that God's name might be praised and he continues to praise God as the creator of life, the one who rules over all nations, the only one who can provide the complete salvation that David needs from his most dreaded foes and thus, God has accomplished it. God has provided for worms, such as David has described.
God has provided a means by which all those who are feeling like worms might be delivered from their most dreaded foe. Whether they realize it or not that dreaded foe is God. For only by God's provision of a pardoning grace can we be delivered from His wrath. Romans 5:10 declares what this provision is, "For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life." It is in this provision that I find myself, though still many times feeling like a wretched worm.
I am often left asking myself if I have received the pardon from God through His Son, Jesus, and I know many others do as well. Upon this intense interrogation of my self I am often left feeling much like this worm in Psalm 22:6. I have come to find that this is not something to be alarmed about, but a subtle reminder of God's provision of grace. Thus the reason for the worm. Christians should be about the business of examining our lives, asking ourselves if we love God more today than we did the day before. If you've been resting your salvation on a prayer or a raised hand, look at your life, has it changed? Salvation does not rest on those things, but only upon the evidence of the Holy Spirit working through you, and it is this I remind myself of when I am feeling like a worm.
More to come on this subject later. I think 3 days or so of thinking about this post and plenty of time spent typing, erasing, typing, erasing is enough for now.
More to come on this subject later. I think 3 days or so of thinking about this post and plenty of time spent typing, erasing, typing, erasing is enough for now.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Premises
I begin this blog with only a few thoughts in mind.
1. I am sure I will not post on here as much as I would like to think that I would. It is just not going to happen. I am a husband, father of four wonderfully energetic children ranging in age from 8 years to 5 months, full-time employee to support them which is occasionally on call, and a grad student, which does not leave much time for other things.
2. I would like to use this as a tool to increase my writing skills that I may more quickly get my thoughts out and on to the screen. Currently I have spent 20 minutes writing the above. I tend to put something down then erase it, write something new and erase it and then write a mixture of the first two thoughts. I spend most of my time deleting what I have written then actually writing and it is this I am hoping to find a cure for. Let my perfectionism be warned!
3. This is something that I thought I would never do and as the old saying goes: "Never say never", I find myself doing those things.
4. I have now turned a few thoughts into some or several thoughts. I hope that this is a sign of my brain continuing to work and flesh this whole blogging thing out. This could be my very first and last post as I talk myself into and out of continuing on.
5. I hope to be careful in the things that I write, but still honest. Specially in areas regarding theology and politics. I pray that any arguments I make may come with a sense of humility as it is not my intent to go on the offensive. If I am ever put on the defensive, I pray that my argument would win, but if not I pray I would be open to learn and weigh these matters carefully.
6. I would like those who would read these postings see a glimpse of my heart, my life, that they might know me better, and be encouraged by this worm. I am not that great of a husband, but I love my wife dearly. I am not a great father, I get angry and upset and its hard sometimes to show my children mercy, but I would not trade a one of them. They are pieces of me and I love them and value them more than even myself. I can be a terrible employee at times, just doing the things I need to get me through that long day, but it is the means God has provided at this moment to pay for the roof over my head, the food to eat and the clothes to wear. I am also at times a horrible student. If you want to measure it by grades, I have failed a couple of classes and barely passed others. If you measure it by the amount of time I spend studying, I would ask what do you qualify as studying. However, I love learning though I am a slow reader, I am no good when it comes to testing, my mind is not quick at processing information (especially in a debate or test), and I do not know when the last time was I turned in a final draft of a paper instead of my first draft.
Well, you have endured this much and I am happy to tell you that this is the end of this post. Thank you for reading and I hope to have an other one up soon and hope you come back.
1. I am sure I will not post on here as much as I would like to think that I would. It is just not going to happen. I am a husband, father of four wonderfully energetic children ranging in age from 8 years to 5 months, full-time employee to support them which is occasionally on call, and a grad student, which does not leave much time for other things.
2. I would like to use this as a tool to increase my writing skills that I may more quickly get my thoughts out and on to the screen. Currently I have spent 20 minutes writing the above. I tend to put something down then erase it, write something new and erase it and then write a mixture of the first two thoughts. I spend most of my time deleting what I have written then actually writing and it is this I am hoping to find a cure for. Let my perfectionism be warned!
3. This is something that I thought I would never do and as the old saying goes: "Never say never", I find myself doing those things.
4. I have now turned a few thoughts into some or several thoughts. I hope that this is a sign of my brain continuing to work and flesh this whole blogging thing out. This could be my very first and last post as I talk myself into and out of continuing on.
5. I hope to be careful in the things that I write, but still honest. Specially in areas regarding theology and politics. I pray that any arguments I make may come with a sense of humility as it is not my intent to go on the offensive. If I am ever put on the defensive, I pray that my argument would win, but if not I pray I would be open to learn and weigh these matters carefully.
6. I would like those who would read these postings see a glimpse of my heart, my life, that they might know me better, and be encouraged by this worm. I am not that great of a husband, but I love my wife dearly. I am not a great father, I get angry and upset and its hard sometimes to show my children mercy, but I would not trade a one of them. They are pieces of me and I love them and value them more than even myself. I can be a terrible employee at times, just doing the things I need to get me through that long day, but it is the means God has provided at this moment to pay for the roof over my head, the food to eat and the clothes to wear. I am also at times a horrible student. If you want to measure it by grades, I have failed a couple of classes and barely passed others. If you measure it by the amount of time I spend studying, I would ask what do you qualify as studying. However, I love learning though I am a slow reader, I am no good when it comes to testing, my mind is not quick at processing information (especially in a debate or test), and I do not know when the last time was I turned in a final draft of a paper instead of my first draft.
Well, you have endured this much and I am happy to tell you that this is the end of this post. Thank you for reading and I hope to have an other one up soon and hope you come back.
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