“Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.” That is a line from the Animals’ hit song. (For the lyrics.) I remember the first time I heard it around 1966. I was a beginning drummer with some friends and I used to listen to it over and over on my BSR turntable, with my Realistic 20W set up. Headphones on banging away. For me it became something I did not understand. Why was I not understood? (Some might say it became self-fulfilling prophecy.) Others did that song like Joe Cocker and the Moody Blues, but no one did it like the The Animals. So, now that I stirred up some memories for some of you.. And for others, you may be asking “What is a turntable?” In other places in those lyrics, the singer declares, that his “intentions are good.” Before coming to Christ, I would have said that is fully me. With Christ, I quickly understood that it is not about trying, but about being.Over the years I have somehow felt like I was going through an identity crisis. Who am I? It began as a child and it has never stopped. I was raised (Can’t say “grew up” because we are waiting on that!) in an alcoholic family. I was misunderstood. My father drank and my mom coped. I always tried to be the “best” and when not successful, I resorted to not doing it. Easier to pretend it did not matter, rather than you could not do it, or in some cases even understand it. My relationships often reflected “best efforts” with feelings of not being understood. (I know that I am not the only leader who has felt “misunderstood.”) And I assure you that all my thoughts were towards making things gel and be right. (I am not saying I have no “problems,” but I am saying the difficulties I have encountered have often been the results of misunderstandings.) Continue reading Please don’t let me be misunderstood→
I wrote this 7 years ago. How things have changed and how many things have come to pass.
Yesterday morning I awoke from a dream. There was not much to guess about the dream or to figure out. In the dream I was working around the home and all I heard over and over was “work like an evangelist.” The music played over and over in my head. It was like “walk Like An Egyptian” by the Bangles. Even after I woke up the music was pulsing. Like I said, there wasn’t much to think about. Continue reading The World Out There→
I resigned. Stepped down. Life as I had known it for nearly 10 years was over. And I took that step of faith(?) into an abyss not knowing the results. Believe the prophets and you shall prosper.
This morning I awoke at 3:50 to hear “Restore unto me the joy of my salvation” singing through my head. I began to pray for friends and family. But, being in bed just wasn’t working for me, so I arose, thinking I could shake this off, but I couldn’t. So many, weren’t enjoying their salvation. I spoke to a newer Christian yesterday who was reaping the fruits of his choices(Don’t we all, unless the mercy of God is invoked.) He had “tried” to enjoy, but the demons of his past were great and his feeling that it was all supposed to be ok kept him from the confessions of his hurt and his pain. I(I pray my words and gestures bear fruit in his life.). Continue reading Restore unto me the joy of my salvation→
I wrote his story in 2005. This morning awoke and knew I was not up to the task of writing. I read something and thought, what would I share. I clicked on something and it brought me to this.
Ironically it had to do with what I read earlier. It is hard when someone hurts you. Harder when you allow yourself to hurt you or others.
I had devoted hours to my garden. And as the sprouts broke the ground, I was excited. But one morning i went out and there was something missing. Much of the new growth had been eaten. (Nibbled would have been an understatement!) A neighbor said he had seen the woodchuck munching away at my “kingdom.” Continue reading Woody A Youthful Attempt At Revenge!→
As children, we were always looking for excitement and being the oldest, I was often the ringleader (And was always accused as such!) and, yes, I came up with some doozies.
When we moved from East Haven we moved to a very large old farmhouse on a dairy farm. We had moved to this house with the stairways of polished wood. They were awesome…and dangerous. They were great to slip down on your butt, but I was looking for something a little faster. And then one “sick day” as I lay on the sofa, watching Donna Reed, I realized that the two back cushions of the sofa would be perfect. Waiting for our babysitter, Mrs. H to head to the bathroom, I grabbed one of the cushions and ran to the top of the stairs. Pulling up the front like a snow toboggan I felt like this was going to be a rush. I pushed off like a bobsledder and Whoosh! Down the stairs I went and crashed into the front door. This being a sick day and all, I only got that “run” in, but when my siblings returned home from school, I shared my excitement with them. We could get two kids on each cushion, so we planned for the next day. Continue reading Mrs H and The Staircase→
We had decided to move to the country. We had lived in downtown Brattleboro too long for my blood. Every night the fire alarms would ring in my ears and I just wasn’t handling it. A house came along. Well, sort of a house. They called them yurts and they were round houses that were tied together by regular construction. That was where the kitchen was. On one end of the house, the yurts was our bedroom and the other end of the house it was our living room. Two wood stoves heated the house.
Round houses. Imagine that. Nothing could go in a corner because there wasn’t one(Would have been great when I was a child and being disciplined. Go stand in the corner…) so square furniture was struggling for space. The walls sloped outwards from the bottom, so pictures didn’t hang, they laid there. The cat could run up the walls. Continue reading The Yurt’s Experience→
Our babysitter, Mrs. H, was very nearsighted and very slow. She was also very excitable. One day I decided to “kill” my brother. We were supposed to be washing dishes. Larry and I came up with this elaborate plan for his “demise.” We took an old knife and broke off the blade. We taped it to his chest and had him lie in front of the cabinets. I poured watered down ketchup on his chest and on the floor. Then I yelled “Stop that or I will kill you!” Mrs. H. yelled to me to be quiet, but I kept screaming and then Larry did his death scream. At that, Mrs. H came in to the kitchen and saw my brother lying in a “puddle of blood.” Continue reading Mrs. H and The “Murder”→
When I was about 8 or 9 years old we were trying to think of what to do, me and my friend Johnny. We were neighbors each summer on the lake. (Schroon Lake) His dad owned a motel and my parents vacationed in a large house on the water that my mom’s family owned. And like any boys that age we just wanted to have fun. Continue reading Man Overboard!→