Oh, 32 years of love, life, and longing

My parents have been married for 32 years today.  Hokey smokes.  That's like if I had been married 8 times longer than I have...



I've been thinking about the love they share, the pain they've endured together, and the ways in which I've seen them
    a
          d
        a
        p
              t 

to each other through different stages in life.

I remember a time when my dad was firting with my mom in the kitchen while us kids were getting grossed out.  Come to think of it, that happened a lot.  They really grossed us out.

Then there were days in which I remember my parents apologizing to us when they had let their voices get a little too angry with one another during a disagreement.  Even when I could tell things were rough, they made it a point to explain to us that they loved us and they loved each other and they were never going to leave.

I remember how my mom scratched dad's back after a long day of work.

I remember how dad would write "secret" love messages to mom on napkins, white boards, refrigerator doors, etc.  They weren't very secret.

Mom would roll her eyes when dad would bring ANOTHER piece of junk car home to rebuild, but then she would also give her blessing, because she knew how happy it made my dad to fix things.

Dad might give mom a small heart attack every time he took us boys out skiing or motorcycle riding or "mud whomping"-- but he always called her while we were away to remind her of his love and let her know that he was safe.

Dang.

I don't know how you guys have done it- or why I was lucky enough to get a front row seat through it all-- but I am grateful

and

I N S P I R E D

by your love.

Happy anniversary.

-Tim

Click on our Clique!

SO here's my latest blasphemy (and you have been warned, so please stop reading if you are unprepared spiritually or soteriologically for my thoughts!):

I think I am no longer able to attend church.  It's not a matter of being too good for it, or too cynical, or because I am in sin and unwilling to confess.  It's a realization that "church" is a place where normal people suddenly turn into weirdos speaking a language they don't understand but pretend to.  It's a place where "visitors" (like a petting zoo?) feel so out of place unless they are the same ethnicity and social class as the majority.  If they ARE the same ethnicity and social class, then they can switch to the consumer mentality, and decide for themselves if this church is going to meet their needs (child care, a "bible-first" preacher, good music with a charismatic leader, etc...).  If they decide that it CAN meet their needs, then they begin "attending" and maybe join a "small group."  Keep in mind these people are just like them: they already think like them and act like them.

But what happens is inevitably somebody gets in a fight with somebody else over something stupid and the consumer attendee decides to take her business elsewhere to find a church that is EVEN MORE like-minded to her so that there won't be any more fighting.  Churches become the biggest network of cliques ever known to man.  They're like match.com for Christian narrow-mindedness.  The size of the church doesn't matter-- I have seen it in mega churches and home churches.  Rich areas and poor areas.

This was not Christ's plan.  It might have been the Apostle Paul's plan with his Utopian idea of everybody being in one accord... or maybe Luke with his very biased view of how the early church got along perfectly.  If the leaders of a church think that "unity" is the most important thing for the life of the church, than soon everyone will look, think, and act just like the leaders.  This is magnificent in the eyes of the leaders of the church, but devastating to the true work of God.

"Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ... The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” ²² On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, ²³ and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor.

I believe that I AM a part of the Church- the people of God.  But I also believe that because so many "churches" do exactly the opposite of what Paul is saying here, they would be better described as cliques and I disdain them as such, and find that being in their presence is excruciating.

Prove me wrong!  Where is the diversity in your "church"?  When do the 'eyes' say to the 'hands,' "We need you!" and then let their actions show it!?

Thursday Night Throwdown

Last night I participated in a local barista competition called "Thursday Night Throwdown" in Raleigh.  All the competitors put $5 in a jar and the winner takes all.  Three judges look at the use of space, the creativity, and the technique, and point to the one they like best.  Last month we held it in our shop in Durham, so I figured it would be a nice gesture for me to go out and see Jubala Coffee in Raleigh.  Brian Maiers and I spent some good "bro time" together, talking shop and having fun.  Jubala is super trendy-- they refuse to have an auto drip coffee maker, so they do individual pourovers for customers.  They have 3 syrups: vanilla, chocolate, and almond.  They also make waffles.  Quite delicious waffles, too.

Well, I didn't want to compete, but Brian had been working on me all day and then this guy Jonathan just grabbed me and so all of sudden I'm standing there with a pitcher in my hand, a TV camera to my right, and all eyes fixed on me and him.

"Uh... what do I make?"

"This level is called: Barista's choice!"

I got lucky.  I steamed the milk, spending extra effort to not to spill it everywhere, and then poured a pretty nice looking rosetta.

I didn't get a pic of the one I made, but they basically look like this:

I made it past the first round!

People cheered, some random dude gave me a high five, and suddenly I had to compete again.

This time: A Rosetta!

Oh, good, I just made one.  I can do this again....  OR CAN I??

Nope.  I screwed up by not adding enough milk into the steaming pitcher and ended up with a nasty looking blob on the top of the latte.

But I made it past the first round.  That was the most important part.

All in all it was fun and I'm eagerly trying to hone in my skills for next month's throwdown.

-Tim