Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Words to live by...



This prayer, usually attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, has held a special place in my heart for years. It's popped up several times in my life over the last couple of days, so I wanted to revisit it. I think that over the next couple of weeks I want to examine each line in my blog.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.



I like to dissect rote prayers. When I used to pray the rosary, I would emphasize a different word each time I prayed the Hail Mary.

Hail Mary, full of grace...
Hail Mary, full of grace...
Hail Mary, full of grace...

And so on. It brought more meaning to the prayer for me.  So many times we say rote prayers like this without stopping to think of the words.

I want to really stop and think about each plea that the author sets forth in this prayer. I'm not looking to pump myself up and say how I've done these things...because I haven't. Rather, I'm looking to challenge myself.

I welcome your input and stories.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

The Dangerous "What if...?"

I had a good, short quasi-theological discussion with a friend at work today. We were talking about how we both envy a mutual friend of ours for her current location on her faith journey. She's WAY down the road. She is so full of the Holy Spirit and free-giving that it's inspiring just to talk to her. Even non-Believers are drawn to her strength.

She gave up a promising career so that she could devote her life to helping other people. She's a missionary that is currently working with a large midwestern Christian organization and is paying her bills only through the generosity of donors.

There was a big elephant in the room (or cubicle). We both have a wife and a child. The unspoken item was this: "What would we be able to do if we weren't tied down with family and obligation?"

That sound bad, I know. Neither of us would ever IN A MILLION YEARS trade in our life for the life we could have had. However, that doesn't stop someone from bringing to the surface a resentment that was long ago plunged down.

I'll use myself as an example:
  • What if I had gone to an out-of-state school instead of limiting myself to Xavier, UC, and NKU? Amy had said that she wanted me to stay close to home. We had been dating for some time and were going to get married.
  • What if I hadn't worked at Roger Bacon while I was in college? Would I have fallen into the deep depression that I fought for years and years? Would I have decided to go to grad school and become a professional musician?
  • What if I didn't have a kid? Would I be able to do more things? Go more places? Be more involved? Drive fancier cars? Have a fancier house? Go out ot eat more?
The reality is that you make decisions in life as they come at you. At the time, Xavier seemed the best option to me. If I hadn't gone to Xavier, I never would have met the great friends that I did. If I hadn't gone to Xavier, I wouldn't have seen New Orleans pre-Katrina. If I hadn't worked at Roger Bacon while I was in college, I never would have gotten to help teach so many great kids that have turned into great adults. If I wouldn't have had a son, my Sam...

God has a plan for each one of us. Sometimes, we impact people in a way that we don't even know. Maybe God had me at Xavier for a reason that will likely never understand.

I often look back with regret when I think about my time at Roger Bacon (I was a band director there for 6 years). I always felt like I didn't make an impact on people. I was wrong.

When I was a teacher at Roger Bacon, I helped to lead a retreat called Kairos. It translates from Greek to English as "The Lord's Time." It is the counterpart to Chronos. Anyway, it is traditional to start and end your talks with a song. I had used a variety of songs over the years:
On my last retreat, I really wanted to pick a song that would stand out. I could have gone with a Christian song, but I knew that would be forgotten before the next meal was over. I was listening to a CD that I owned for my DJ company when it hit me. The CD was the Billboard Top 10 from 1979: the year I was born.

I was tired of my lady; we'd been together to long
Like a worn-out recording of a favorite song
So while she lay there sleeping, I read the paper in bed
And in the personal columns there was this letter I read

If you like Pina Coladas
And getting caught in the rain
If you're not into Yoga
If you have half a brain
If you like making love at midnight
In the dunes on the cape
The I'm the love that you've looked for
Write to me and Escape.
Escape (The Pina Colada Song). It got a laugh out of the kids, as it should have. I talked about how I always tried to find someone to accept me. How I always fought to find someone that didn't make fun of my weight. I talked about how I never felt that I would ever find someone that would love me unconditionally.

Until I realized that person had been there all along. God had always been there. There was more to it, but you get the idea.

I haven't thought about that talk in years. I never thought that it made an impression.  Then I recieved this note this week:

"so this is the second time this week that i have heard the pina colada song and i decided i needed to write to you. every time i hear that song i think about your speach on kairos. thinking about what you said and what that songs makes me feel has helped me out a lot this week. this month has probably been the worst month of my life and i just wanted to let you know that what you said and that song has helped me out in so many ways. i just wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart."
I shed a couple tears at my keyboard...and I realized that God always has a reason for why we are where we are.

Monday, September 28, 2009

A.D.D and Me

I’ve always wondered what people meant when they told you to “keep your mind on the task at hand.” Are people actually able to do that? I’ve never been able to do that. I finally know officially what I have suspected since I first heard the diagnosis:

Attention Deficit Disorder

From what I understand, most office workers sit at a desk all day and, if need be, can concentrate on their work. I have never, ever been able to do that. Not once in my 30 years have I been able to sit down, perform a task, and not have my mind jump to 10 or 20 different things per minute. Sometimes, my mind races so fast that I have to take my glasses off, close my eyes, and hold onto my desk to calm down.

Here are the symptoms of Adult ADD from a respectable health website:
  • Concentration. Adults with ADD/ADHD have trouble with concentration to an extreme degree. You might have trouble following conversations, “zoning out” without realizing it. Finishing tasks might feel impossible, and you might have several tasks started at once without the ability to continue. You might easily get distracted or forgetful, leading to errors or incomplete work.
  • Organization. Keeping things organized at home and work might be an enormous challenge. Home and/or work space might be unusually cluttered and messy. You might underestimate the time it takes to complete tasks or have trouble with procrastination, making completing large projects very difficult. Adults with ADD/ADHD often also continually forget or lose things.
  • Decision making. You might have a pattern of making sudden decisions “on a whim” or have trouble listening to others.
  • Relating to others. You might have trouble following a conversation, interrupting others, answering before a question has been asked, or blurting out things you regret later.
  • Health. Impulsivity and trouble with organization can lead to problems with health, such as compulsive eating or reaching for unhealthy foods, a reinforcing cycle of alcohol and drug abuse, or trouble making appointments or forgetting medication for a chronic condition.
  • Work and finances. Difficulty concentrating, completing tasks, listening, and relating to others can lead to trouble at work. Managing finances may also be a concern. You may find yourself struggling to pay your bills, losing paperwork, missing deadlines, or be in debt due to impulsive spending.
  • Relationships. You might wonder why loved ones constantly nag you to tidy up, get organized, and take care of business. Or if your loved one has ADD/ADHD, you might be hurt that your loved one doesn’t seem to listen to you, blurts out hurtful things, and leaves you with the bulk of organizing and planning.

SOUND FAMILIAR???? ANYONE YOU KNOW????


I’ve employed meditative techniques learned in college from Prof. Paul Knitter: no go. I’ve turned on music to focus my mind: doesn’t work. I’ve tried organizing my work into little mini-bursts so that I can get a lot done in a day: nope.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve fought depression for my entire adult life. Depression breeds anxiety, and anxiety causes attention issues. I have had my depression/anxiety under control for some time now and had sincerely hoped that I wouldn’t have to seek treatment for ADD.

I was wrong.

Even as I sit here typing this, my mind is like one of those crib storyboards that were so popular when I was a child. It’s like a scroll that endlessly loops with different figures. Mine, however, loops with an endless stream of thoughts, dreams, facts, questions, and desires.
  • Sleep
  • Sam
  • Bengals
  • Car
  • Work
  • Xavier
  • Camping

That was literally what went through my mind in the last 15 seconds. That wasn’t trying to think of different things; that’s just what pops in. If I’m working on insurance, it’s just a steady stream of insurance topics…and it can’t be stopped.

This isn’t just me being bored. I wish that was the case. I know some people just don’t want to work so they let their mind wander. The difference is that they are like a dog that runs outside in the street when you leave a door open. I am like the dog that finds a way to get out no matter what.

I’ve had long talks with my doctor, and he agrees that it’s time to use some medication. I have a relative that takes the same anti-depressant as I and has had success with a certain type of stimulant-based ADD medication. I pray that it works for me as well. I just can’t do my job at work and feel like I am letting my family down at home. We were going to try a non-stimulant medication that's not a controlled substance, but it's $240/month on my insurance. The one he's prescribing is $35 if I haven't met my deductible and $0 if I have.

Have any of you had ADD treatments or have similar problems? Leave a comment below. I'm not shy about answering questions about my experience either. Feel free to ask.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Sam Meyer-Redux

I can’t believe that my little baby boy is four years old today. Time flies when you’re having fun. Here are pictures of him from every year on his birthday, as well as his birth story. I’m immensely proud and immeasurably blessed.





Sam's Birth Story by Jon Meyer

When we found out late December 2004 that we were expecting our first child, we were ecstatic. We had been trying for more than several months to get pregnant, but couldn’t believe it when it finally happened.


Amy (mom) had decided that she would use the same office for her OB treatment as she did for her GYN treatment. As you will see, this turned out to be a mistake. We had made the decision to have an unmedicated, natural childbirth. We contacted a doula to work with us during the pregnancy and birth; this would turn out to be invaluable.

The more that we read about anesthetics and epidurals, the less we wanted to use them; the more we read about the strength of the female body to endure unmedicated birth, the more we wanted that for our unborn child.

On the first visits to the OB, everything seemed on the surface to go well; we just had this nagging doubt about our doctors. Something did not feel right. As the visits progressed, we found that all of the OBs in the practice seemed to merely tolerate our desire for natural childbirth, but not embrace it. We spoke with our childbirth educator, and our doula. If we had bad feelings about the doctors at 6 months, they were only going to get worse. After months of “dealing with it,” we made the difficult decision to move to a practice that was more patient-oriented and accepting of our wishes. This was during the 7th month of Amy’s pregnancy. On the recommendation of our Bradley© Class instructor and our doula, we contacted an OB practice in the area that is known for being open to the parent’s wishes, and natural childbirth. It is staffed by an OB and two Certified Nurse Midwives. The difference was staggering. The acceptance and encouragement provided by this office was total. We knew at that time that we had made the right choice.

At 37 weeks, Amy went in for her routine visit. All of the visits had been perfect and she had been complication-free. Prior to the midwife entering the room, Amy and I both noticed that her ankles were more swollen than normal; we both thought that it was because her legs had been hanging off of the exam table…we were wrong. Amy’s blood-pressure was high, she had edema in her feet, ankles and hands, and had developed a bladder infection. On September 1, she was put on bedrest and told to take it easy.

We both thought, “Well, at least these are manageable, treatable complications.” Treatment following this diagnosis included bedrest, 4 non-stress tests, multiple office visits, and did I mention bedrest…lots of it. Then, Amy went in for an ultrasound at 39 weeks to make sure that Sam had plenty of amniotic fluid and that he was developing well. The ultrasound technician noted that Sam was in a frank breech position. We had a visit scheduled with the OB for the following week, so we read up on breech babies as much as any human possibly can. We were prepared for anything that he might throw at us. Keep in mind that Amy was not able to do the normal home remedies for breech babies (i.e. incline board) because of her blood pressure. We were not prepared for what he told us: Sam had turned himself back around!!!!

We were surprised at the patience the doctor and midwives had with Amy’s high blood pressure. We were sure at the old doctor’s office that Amy would have been induced before her due date for the blood pressure. But Dr. Bowen’s office felt that bedrest and monitoring were adequate, and that we should see if Amy would naturally go in to labor.

We hit 40 weeks, and then 41 weeks, and by then, we had both concluded that Amy would have to be induced at the end of 42 weeks. She had been experiencing some contractions in the evenings for the last week, but they usually went away after exercise, eating, etc.

On the 2nd day of the 42nd week, Amy was still having contractions about 5-10 minutes apart for about 20-30 seconds. They were not very intense and were not gaining any intensity. Jon (the dad) went to the store to get some food that they needed for the week. When he got back at 6:00p, Amy informed him that her contraction had changed drastically in the past 40 minutes. They were now 2 minutes apart and 30-60 seconds long. We called our doula, Maren, and she gave us some good advice. She had to teach the last lesson in a birthing class from 7:00pm to 9:00pm, but said that if we needed her she would come. Amy felt that nothing would happen until at least 9:00pm (heck, we didn’t even think she was in labor), so Maren went to teach the class.

Over the course of the next 2 hours, her contractions increased in intensity. She used pelvic rocks, tub soaking, light walking, and swaying to help relieve the tension. When we did call Maren after her class, she felt that she should come to the house because Amy was in labor. We called our doctor (Dr. Bowen was on-call), and he told us that when we felt the need to go to the hospital, that we should call him. We still felt that Amy was not in labor and were even talking about the fact that our payment to Maren only included one false labor visit.

When Maren arrived at 10:30pm, Amy was starting to contract even harder and was not even able to talk during contractions. Amy asked Maren when we should go to the hospital. Maren replied, “Normal people would have gone hours ago!”

Since we are not normal, we continued to debate when we should go. Maren explained that it is not an exact science and that you really need to rely on your instincts. Amy felt that she did not want to endure a car ride with contractions any stronger than the ones that she was experiencing right then, so we decided to leave.

On the way to the hospital, Amy’s contractions continued to increase in intensity, but she did get a slightly longer period of rest in between. It was raining very heavily on our way to the hospital because the remnants of Hurricane Rita were going through Cincinnati. Since Amy’s contractions were so strong, her concentration had to be centered on them the entire ride there. We talked about the fact that she may still only be 1 cm dilated (which she was at her last appointment) and that they may want to augment her labor with Pitocin or even send us home. She did not even want any music on. She also had the air conditioning on 65° with the blower turned ALL the way up!

We arrived at the hospital at about 11:45pm. Amy had to go to the bathroom (and Maren followed to help her if needed), so Jon checked in at the desk. Amy showed her determination from the get-go by refusing a wheelchair upon check-in.

On the way up, Amy had to stop and lean against the railing 3 or 4 times because she was contracting. We arrived on the fourth floor; this is where the Family Birthing Center is located. They took us straight into Birthing Suite #3 instead of Triage; they must have seen how far along Amy really was.

The whole time, Maren was coaching Amy on how to relax and breathe through the contractions. A nurse named Ann came in and did the triage examination on Amy. We were worried that she would say “1 cm; go home!” Instead, she announced that Amy was 5-6 cm dilated and 90% effaced!! Amy actually laughed and cheered at that, and was glad there was no going home now. However, her blood pressure was 150/95. Sam’s heart rate and its reactions to Amy’s contractions were great. In fact, he was fine the entire time. Our first comic relief of the evening came when Ann asked Amy when her last bowel movement was. Amy said “I had one in the lobby.” Jon made sure that Ann knew that Amy meant the bathroom in the lobby, not the lobby itself!

As soon as Amy’s initial exam was over, she got out of bed and rocked on a birthing ball in between contractions. She would stand when the contractions were coming and sway while leaning against the hospital bed (which had been raised up and straightened out). By this time, Amy had lost all modesty and was completely naked. Jon’s job was to keep the three washcloths cooled down in ice water. She was so hot, that she would warm up an icy washcloth in about 3 minutes. She had one on her forehead, one on the back of her neck, and one in the ice water.

A couple of minutes later, Amy’s labor and delivery nurse, Amanda, came in. She was staying with us for the rest of the labor and delivery. She was so attentive and caring that we will never forget her. At on point, the doctor had requested a 15 minute monitor tape of the baby’s heart rate. However, Amy was swaying so much that the monitor strap wouldn’t stay in place. So, Amanda squatted down behind Amy and held the monitor in place with her hand while swaying with her.

After a particularly strong and hard contraction (at about 1:00am), Amanda asked Amy to get on the bed so that she could check her. Amy had progressed to a little more than 8 cm dilated (with no cervix on one side) and 95% effaced. She had to quickly get out of bed as another strong contraction hit her.

For the next 30 minutes, Amy contracted virtually nonstop. Maren continually coached her on proper breathing (“breath deep to get oxygen for you and Sam”) and vocalizing (“low and long”). Amanda checked Amy twice during this time and it was obvious by the look on her face (and the fact that she had her hand between Amy’s knees) that Amy was ready! Sam’s head had almost crowned while Amy was standing there. Amanda had commented that Sam’s head was “right there”. They had summoned the doctor to the hospital, but because of the rainstorm, he was traveling slower than normal. Amy was very nice to Jon the entire evening. The only time that she cursed the entire time was when she asked “Where the hell is the doctor?” The second and third comic moments came around this time as well; they were setting up the delivery cart with all of the instruments behind the privacy curtain. A sound much like a bottle cork popping was heard in the room. Apparently, it was a tube holding some kind of instrument. In a raspy, strained voice, Amy asked “Is that the celebratory champagne?” Amy also said, “All I need is a little break.” Amanda replied, “You’ll have one very soon because you are going to have a baby sooner than you think!”

At about 1:50am, Amy asked “Am I in transition?” Maren and Amanda both laughed and Maren explained “You are well past that, honey!” Amanda kept looking back at Ann and another nurse who had come in at Amanda’s request; she was concerned about being the only nurse in the room when Amy could deliver without the doctor.

Finally, the doctor arrived and (in Jon’s opinion) took his sweet time putting on his scrubs. He explained later that he had endured a LONG day at another hospital; not delivering a baby, but in the ER with his son who had broken his clavicle playing soccer.

It was finally time for little Sam to be born! Amy got onto the bed in a semi-sitting position to give birth. When she pushed for the first time, it looked like a transparent head crowned. The doctor explained that Sam may be born “In the Caul,” or born still in the amniotic sac. That is what was crowning! Her waters did eventually break when the doctor was performing perineal massage to help avoid an episiotomy. They also used warm compresses on Amy’s bottom, which helped.

Maren did a great job with the coaching for the pushing. At first, Amy had a hard time pushing right. Maren told her to hold her breath while she was pushing, and that worked. Maren reminded her, you only have to push Sam to the end of the bed, not across the room! With little pushes for this, there was less chance of Amy tearing.

What seemed like seconds later, but was in fact 30 minutes after she started pushing (she only pushed 5 or 6 times), little Sam’s head came out, and almost immediately, his little body followed. At 2:55am on September 26th, 2005, little Sam was finally here. The first thing Amy said was “I feel so much better.” The next thing was “He’s so little.” We thought because Sam was 10 days post date, that he would be 10 pounds. He was 7 pounds even, and 21 inches long. He’s our “Little Man”, and our “Peanut”.

Sam was born with a nuchal cord. That is, it was wrapped around his neck once. After the doctor got the cord from around his neck, he was immediately placed on Amy’s chest where he nursed until his little cord stopped pulsing. It was so neat to feel the blood pulse through the cord. Jon cut the cord and the rest is history. Maren stayed for several hours to help us get things together. She was wonderful! I don’t know if we could have done this without her.

We never encountered any problem with our birth plan (attached) being followed. Amy only took 2 ibuprofen to help with the pain of a small 2nd degree tear as a result of Sam being born in a compound presentation (with his hand by his head).

Amy’s decision to birth Sam without medication was one of the best decisions that she has ever made. Just take a look at these wide-open eyes just minutes after birth.

All that we went through was so worth it; don’t you agree?

Sam's Fourth Birthday Present

Batman Dark Knight Mega Cape

Friday, September 25, 2009

"Francis, rebuild my Church."

I almost always have a book with me. Whether it’s my NT or one of my favorite authors’ books, I have something to read with me. I hate waiting in lines, eating lunch without something to do, or being stuck somewhere by yourself.

Yesterday, I was sitting in my doctor’s office (more on that later) reading Maria Montessori’s “The Montessori Method.” I don’t usually read random books on scientific pedagogy, but I have a special interest in the writings of Maria Montessori. In addition to the fact that my alma mater (Xavier University) was the first university in the United States to establish a degree in Montessori education, and that I took some classes there pertaining to Montessori’s methods, my son, Sam, now attends Dater Montessori Elementary School in Cincinnati, Ohio.

Here is a brief explanation of The Montessori Method from The International Montessori Index:
Montessori emphasizes learning through all five senses, not just through listening, watching, or reading. Children in Montessori classes learn at their own, individual pace and according to their own choice of activities from hundreds of possibilities. Learning is an exciting process of discovery, leading to concentration, motivation, self-discipline, and a love of learning. Montessori classes place children in three-year age groups (3-6, 6-9, 9-12, and so on), forming communities in which the older children spontaneously share their knowledge with the younger ones. Montessori represents an entirely different approach to education.
The results are astounding. I love what that school is doing for its students, specifically for Sam. I will, without a doubt, be discussing his education from time to time on this blog.

In the chapter which she sets up her reason for doing all of her research, she relates the story of St. Francis of Assisi quite well to how the important the people doing the heavy-lifting are in the grand scheme of a task. In this paragraph, she is talking specifically of the achievements and failures in trying to find the write way to educate humans:
Every great cause is born from repeated failures and from imperfect achievements. When St. Francis of Assisi saw his Lord in a vision, and received from the Divine lips the command–"Francis, rebuild my Church!"–he believed that the Master spoke of the little church within which he knelt at that moment. And he immediately set about the task, carrying upon his shoulders the stones with which he meant to rebuild the fallen walls. It was not until later that he became aware of the fact that his mission was to renew the Catholic Church through the spirit of poverty. But the St. Francis who so ingenuously carried the stones, and the great reformer who so miraculously led the people to a triumph of the spirit, are one and the same person in different stages of development. So we, who work toward one great end, are members of one and the same body; and those who come after us will reach the goal only because there were those who believed and labored before them. And, like St. Francis, we have believed that by carrying the hard and barren stones of the experimental laboratory to the old and crumbling walls of the school, we might rebuild it. We have looked upon the aids offered by the materialistic and mechanical sciences with the same hopefulness with which St. Francis looked upon the squares of granite, which he must carry upon his shoulders.
Many of us work in jobs that seem, to us, inconsequential. We feel like all we do is “build the walls” while others “build the church.” I, for one, would much rather be building the church than underwriting insurance. However, at the same time, I begin to realize that, in the grand scheme of things, my job is vital to the success of so many individuals and businesses:
  • My family
  • My boss
  • Her boss
  • My employer
  • All of the employees of my employer
  • All of the stockholders of my employer
  • The insureds who depend on coverage to be there when they need it
  • My agencies
  • The employees of my agencies
  • The children of all of the above
So, just when I start to think that all I do is push paper, all I need do is remember that what I do is vital to the lives of so many. I don’t seek to aggrandize what I do, but it helps me to remember that my cog in the wheel is just as important as any other.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

"Build it out of (uh) GOPHER BARKY, BARKY, Children of the Lord!"

A high school classmate of mine posed an interesting question yesterday on Facebook. She asked the following:

Given the current state of the city of Atlanta because of the floods, I was wondering what you would do if you were a modern-day Noah and God told you to build an ark and get ready for the coming floods. So, what would you do?



Tough question, no? I could give the stock answer and say that I would follow God’s commands, no matter their content, so I would build it, get the animals, and climb aboard.

We all know that it isn’t that simple.

Let’s get a little background. Read Noah’s story first (Gen 6:9-9:28):
 The first thing that you should notice is that the last thing that the bible mentions before Noah dies is that he got wasted, naked, and was dragged back to his house cursing the son that found him and called his brothers in to see their passed out dad. That’s not really pivotal to my story, but I always found it amusing.

So, God decided that he is sickened by the evil that is his creation: humanity. He is going to destroy all of it, but Noah is too good of a person. So, God goes about setting out his problem, telling Noah how he will fix it, then tells Noah what to do.

You’ll notice that Noah doesn’t protest or even talk back. I’m sure that there were some words exchanged, but Noah doesn’t say, “WHOA! You want me to do what?” He just does what he’s told to do.

The Steve Carell movie Evan Almighty dealt with this very topic. The protagonist, Evan Baxter, has just been elected to the U.S. Congress, leaving behind a career as an anchorman and his life in Buffalo, NY. He and his family move to Northern Virginia to be close to D.C. He buys a newly-built home in a development that is still being built.



A series of signs and miracles ensue, causing Evan to believe that he’d better do what he’s told. The movie does not, in fact, have a storm-induced flood. I won’t give it away, but the boat comes in handy for sure.

The best part of the movie is this line, delivered by Morgan Freeman as God:

"Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?"

I think that after the first shocking moments of the first conversation that I had with God I would pray. If any believer were put in that situation, don’t you think that they would pray? My prayer would go something like this:

Lord,
Please give me a sign that this is really you and that this is really what you want me to do. I know that you don’t like when men ask you for proof of your presence or intention, but you sought me out and you haven’t done anything like this in thousands and thousands of years.
Show me the way, Lord.
Amen

Now, if God were really wanted me to build this ark, I would hope that he would then do something like what he did with Evan Baxter:
  • Ship him Gopherwood
  • Buy the vacant land right next to their house
  • Force me to wear sackcloth no matter what I put on.


So, in doing that he has answered my pray. Harkening back to the line above, by answering my prayer for proof, he is giving me the opportunity to show my devotion to my Lord, my family, and all of humanity.

God has given me the greatest vote of confidence available to a human: you’re the one that I want to continue the human race. What are you going to do about it?

So, after I prayed and it was answered, the next thing that I would do is second guess God. “Lord, you know me better than anyone else. You knew me before you set the stars. I am as flawed as they come. I’m overweight, I battle depression, I fight to let my true self shine through, I am not good at Fantasy Football drafts, and I can’t appreciate a good dark beer. Why would you pick me?”

God’s done talking to me right now, so I’m left to answer my own question. Men are flawed. Noah was flawed. The first thing that he did after reestablishing a vineyard was get krunked. He was still the right man for the job. If I look at my self honestly, maybe I can find the one thing that God wants of his soon-to-be Father of Nations: I walk with God. I don’t do it perfectly, but I try.

I think that I build the boat. I think that many of my friends and family think that I am crazy. I honestly think that I cry for those that will drown. I'm a sap. I cried watching Marley & Me, but this is way bigger. I think that I get mad at God a couple of times and stop building for a day. Then, I remember who He is and get back to work. I know that my wife and son are right there beside me. Sam hopes that God will send the animals to help build the ark like in the movie.

Most importantly, I know that God has his thumb in the middle of my back, pushing me gently in the direction in which he wants me to travel, but allowing me to be the one that makes the final decision.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Self

I once listened to an audio presentation by an Australian Catholic missionary named Matthew Kelly called Becoming The-Best-Version-Of-Yourself. He had given it to me when I interviewed for a job with him in 2004. I ended up taking a position with my current employer instead. If nothing else, interviewing with him netted me about 10 free, signed books.

The basic premise of the presentation is that we have to examine the "meaning of friendship, work, marriage, and money; all in relation to our essential purpose. Beyond that he demonstrates how understanding our essential purpose brings clarity and direction to our lives, especially in the area of making decisions.

"Finally, he challenges us to reassess the physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual aspects of our lives."

It was good. I wish that at the time I was ready to hear it, but I wasn't. I'm going to re-listen to it again this week, but recent events have called a related thought into my head.


I know; he's a quack. He's a sell-out in the truest sense of the word. However, one of his greatest teachings is about living in tune with your "authentic" self (who you were created to be), as opposed to your "fictional" self (who the world has told you to be).

When you combine the two philosophies, you're left with a transparent version of yourself that allows you to be...You. When I live my life, as I was created to live it, and live it up to the best of my ability, a person emerges that transcends being a "good guy."

Steve Fuller recently wrote on his blog about the difference between a Christian and a moralist. His experience came directly from a speech by Tim Keller, the pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in NY, NY.


You can read Fuller’s entire post here (it includes a link to one of Keller’s sermons). To make a long story short, Keller uses the story of the Prodigal Son to illustrate the difference between being a moralist and being a Christian.

"Everyone repents for what they have done wrong. The difference between a Christian and a moralist is that a Christian has also learned to repent for the reasons they did right. They recognize the reason for the right things they do is self-justification and the desire to control God and others."

If you truly read this to understand it, you will feel, as Steve puts it, that you have been rocked to your foundation.

This, to me, is the thing that I struggle with as I continue to develop my relationship with Christ and my spiritual self: What is my motivation for doing this?

I could reiterate everything that Steve wrote, but you can read it there, if you’d like. I’m going to move on.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have begun to question who I am. I know that I have at least three different “selves”.
1. Home Self
2. Friend Self
3. Work Self

On Friday, I went with a couple of my work friends to lunch. On the way there, I was cursing like a sailor and didn’t think a thing about it until one of the guys said, “You’ve got a helluva mouth. How do you keep Sam from cussing like that?”

I’ve never had a problem not cursing in front of Sam, so I couldn’t answer that question. It bothered me, but eventually I started right back up.

Later on during lunch (BTW-Q.S.& L. has a great Chicken Quesadilla Salad), I realized that I was also speaking about individual women in very derogatory ways. The two guys that I was eating with are both single and on the look out, so it didn’t seem abnormal at the time.

Friday night, I spent a lot of time thinking about why it was that I acted those ways (i.e. the cursing and “coveting,” for lack of a better term. The best that I could tell was that I just wanted to fit in with my current group. In doing so, I was neither my “authentic” nor the “best-version-of-my-” self.

Saturday morning, I came into work and was doing a bunch of busy work. It was stuff that had to get done, but it didn’t require a bunch of concentration. I set about thinking about other parts of my life that I wasn’t living authentically or as the best-version-of-myself.

What came to mind made me feel entirely uncomfortable. My oldest and best friends are my camping buddies, fantasy sports partners, fellow Reds attendees, and generally they guys that I would list as my groomsmen if I were to be married tomorrow. However, when I am around them, I find myself acting wholly and utterly inappropriate. I don’t know why I feel the need to do this around them other than I feel that I am expected to do so. I’m the one that should comment on women’s chest sizes. I’m the one that makes inappropriate jokes at the expense of their wives or moms.

I think that it would come as a surprise to them that I don’t really enjoy acting like that. It’s not the cool thing to admit, but I feel like shit after I do it. I don’t want to be that guy. I’m not that guy.

Who I am is not conservative, nor is it liberal. I’m not Republican and I’m not Democrat.

What I know I am is:
  • compassionate
  • forgiving
  • accepting
  • tolerant
  • loving
  • helpful
  • funny
  • serving
  • out-going
  • free-giving
There are other things that I am, but that’s as far as I can go for now. This could become one of those long, boring lists of self-gratifying adjectives, but that’s not what I’m after. Frankly, I don’t care if people read this or not. This is for me.

I am committed to becoming more true and authentic. God, help me as I struggle towards becoming who you created me to be. Help me to live my life for You, and not in merely claiming to be “in Your name” so as to generate attention to myself. Help me to stay humble. Help me to be Your servant. I know that I'm a work in progress.

In the immortal words of the masses:

     Dear God,

     Help.

     Sincerely,
     Me

Sunday, September 20, 2009

How Great Thou Art

I love me a good hymn. I don't think that there is anything quite as moving as a well-performed Amazing Grace. My favorite hymn in the whole wide world is How Great Thou Art.  It is a beautiful poem and the hymn tune, written by the original poet, is hauntingly simple.

My uncle Jerry and I were just talking on Friday about our favorite background singers at the Vineyard.  My very, very favorite is a charming woman named Rhnee. I had the pleasure of meeting her through one of my volunteer rules at V.C.C.

So Jerry says to me, "You've never heard her sing How Great Thou Art."

"Singing hymns is a lost art," I replied. "I wish that V.C.C. would do it more often.  People love it."

Fast-forward two days to this morning.  The last song that we sing is How Great Thou Art.  You've never heard it done like this.  It is Funk/Soul fusion and it is brilliantly performed.  Her vocals are flawless.

Enjoy.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

My beautiful Aunt Mia

My Aunt Maria is an amazing woman. She was a stay-at-home mom while her kids were in grade school (she did work PT for the Cincinnati Marlins Swim Team). When her youngest was in junior high, she decided that she wanted to go back to college and pursue her dream of becoming an elementary school teacher.

Long story short: boy did she ever. She worked so hard, and devoted so much of herself to learning how to be a great teacher, that she earned the title of Valedictorian at Xavier University. However, as the humble person that she is, she turned it down so that someone "college-age" could have the title and give the speech.

She teaches at Elda Elementary School in Ross, Ohio. The reason that I write about her starts here. There have been 2 students and 1 teacher diagnosed with brain cancer in the Ross School District in the last year.

Maria is that teacher.

She has glioblastoma. Don't Google, Bing or Yahoo! it. It's not pretty. This type of cancer usually affects older (i.e. eligible for AARP) adults. Maria is anything but. She is in her mid-fourties and is in excellent shape and health (other than the pesky brain cancer thing).

The amazing part is her faith. She is, without a doubt, one of the most Jesus-trusting individuals that I have ever met. She, like I, attends Vineyard Community Church in Springdale, Ohio. She works in Connections helping new attendees get aquainted with our church and with Jesus. She and her husband have counciled couples preparing for marriage for over 15 years. He's a carpenter with a beard...sound familiar?

Maria looks at her situation this way: "God is using me to help other people that struggle with this disease. I am healthy and the doctors can see that anything affecting me is coming directly from the tumors. While you're at it, while not use me to find the cure...and cure me, Lord?"

Not "my life is over." Not "why me?" Only "Use me God. Use me Lord."

Here is her CaringBridge page: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/mariameyer. Read it and be inspired. However this plays itself out, I'm going to have it made into a book.

In the meantime, I think that I'm going to create another blog: Letters For Mia. It's going to be a collection of my writings to her. It's hard sometimes to tell someone to their face how much they mean to you, but I've never had that problem with Maria. I just figured I share it with the world; maybe someone else can find inspiration from it. Others may end up contributing to it. We'll see.

Friday, September 18, 2009

Rennaisance Man


Yes, I write poetry. I've done it my entire life. Many times, I just write it in my head and move on with my day. Lately, I've wished that I could remember some of the poetry that I wrote when I was younger. My youngest brother came-of-age on myspace, so his poetry will be saved as long as that site lasts. I, however, don't have any of my high school writings anymore.

When Amy and Sam were out of town last weekend I looked through my old boxes in the closet upstairs. Nothing.

So, I figured this is just as good a place as any to preserve my writing. Some of you may think it silly. Frankly, my reader, I don't give a damn.

Since I can't find any of my other stuff, we'll just start over with a sonnet. There will also be the random haiku (usually humor) and free form. The rules of the sonnet mixed with the freedom of words have always appealed to me though, so there will be more of them. Thus, the numbering.


Sonnet I
i watch the leafy green subside to bronze
as summer runs across the blue ocean
the trees cry dry tears as they weep as one
our empty swimming pools collective yawns
the deer born in the spring, no longer fawns
prepare their ground before all is frozen
the branches of the trees keep them hidden
blue snow and ice will last for ninety dawns
oh, summer how your memories will last
like the smell of campfire on sleeping bag
just like the remembrances of summers past
are laced with visions of our spangled flag
that running summer sun, a shadow cast
a chill on naked shoulders now shall lag

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Two thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two days

Two thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two days ago I was unemployed. I was sitting in the living room of the home that I had lived in for five hundred and nine days. I was depressed, probably eating a huge bowl of sugary cereal that helped pack on the three hundred and thirty pounds that I carry today.

I was listening to Matt Lauer and Katie Couric report another meaningless story that I wouldn't remember one hundred and twenty minutes later. Willard Scott was stuttering through the names of more one-hundred-plus year-old people. The morning was like the fifty-six mornings that had immediately proceeded it: lonely, depressing, and utterly empty.

I was at the lowest point in my life that morning. One hundred and six days earlier I had resigned from the job that I had worked towards my entire life. It turns out that my dream was not all that it was cracked up to be. For the next fifty days I worked in another meaningless job in a company so relevant that today (two thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two days later) it doesn't even exist.

I quit that job because it was even worse than my "dream" job. I was "better" than that. Apparently better was unemployed. I had a job interview that afternoon at an staffing service. The day before, I had received a call from a well-known company in downtown Cincinnati stating that they were going to call the next day to offer me a position. At least that was starting to look up.

Ann Curry was rambling on about something when everything changed. At first, I thought that I was just adding some excitement to my already dreary day. My life sucked, after all. No one's could be worse.

Katie Couric broke in at 8:53 with a breaking news story. I'll never forget listening to a woman named Jennifer Oberstein recounting that she heard a loud boom and looked up.

"We were all just saying how strange it was that a bomb would explode this high up" she said.

I watched with sad interest as the tower burned. "So sad," I thought. There must be hundreds of people on those floors.

Jennifer Oberstein continued, but the smoke was all that I could see. I kept thinking, "It has to have been a plane. What a horrible accident."

I called Amy at work. She must have been the first person at CFC to have heard about the crash. I called her within 30 seconds of seeing it on Today. We had a quick conversation and she wished me luck at my interview later that day.

8:53am to 9:03am...sad, but an "accident." I was honestly getting ready to turn it off when I saw a flash of orange and heard the eye-witness say "Oh! Another one just hit! Something else just hit! A very large plane..."

I know that this sounds cliché, but nothing mattered anymore. My boo-hoo Eyeore life in the safe U.S. of A. wasn't so safe anymore. I watched in horror as they played and replayed and replayed the footage. Each time I prayed for it to be different. It never changed.

"You have to move from a talk about a horrible accident to something deliberate." Boom. Matt Lauer said it and when I realized it, I almost fainted. To be honest, as I type this, my heart is going so fast that I have to rest from typing for a minute or so every couple of minutes.

I got up and got my dress clothes for my interview in Blue Ash. No shower this morning. Good thing my hair looked decent. I was going to watch this until I had to rush out the door to make the interview.

Fifty-six minutes later at 9:59am was when I realized that this was going to be the single biggest event in my life, bar none. When that first collapse happened, and I did the quick math in my head, the casualties were staggering.

My interview was at 11:00am and was a forty minute drive. I had to leave when it got to be 10:10am.

I listened to 700WLW on the way there. They were just playing ABC's coverage. It was chilling. I turned it off. I drove in silence. I prayed for the first time in months.

When I arrived at the office for my interview everyone was standing in the lobby looking at a TV Cart wheeled from some nearby conference room. Dust. That's all I saw. Dust everywhere.

It was 10:40am. Men and women alike were openly weeping. I listened to the newest headlines that had unfolded since I turned off my radio at 10:20am.

Second collapse.

Pentagon hit.

I didn't know what to do, so I just walked up to the office. It was totally empty except for one woman staring at a computer. She kept saying, "Come on. Come on, Mary." Her face was streaked with make-up and salt.

I just stood there. I waited about 10 minutes and then blew my nose. She walked to a bathroom somewhere in the office and I heard water.

She walked out wiping at her face with paper towels.

"Mr. Mayer?", she asked.

"Meyer."

"Sorry. Sit down, please."

She stared at the computer again. Willing Mary to do something. All I saw was a list of names in green. It was just a regular-looking DOS screen...think old school library screen.

Then I noticed one name about halfway down in red. "Mary ....." I couldn't make out the last name.

"So you need a job?" Strangest interview question that I've ever received.

"Well, yes.", I said. She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at the monitor.

"Should we do this another time?"

"No," she said with a sniffle. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay.", I say. "Can you believe this?"

"What?"

"The Trade Center and Pentagon."

Her eyes went back to the computer. She hit a button and the green-on-black screen reloaded. "Mary" was still red.

"Mary works there."

"Where?"

"Tower 1. I talked to her yesterday about a client that was transferring from New York to Dayton. The woman was looking for temp work in Ohio."

"Mary works for this company?"

"Yes. She does my job in New York."

"Why is her name red?"

"That means that her database is offline. It only goes offline for maintenance. That only happens on the weekend."

"She was in Tower 1 this morning?"

"Yes. She sent me a message through the system about our client."

It was then that she started crying again. I sat there for five minutes while she cried. I wanted to hold her, but I had only met her 10 minutes earlier.

I did the cowardly thing and left. I never heard from her. I never called.

The rest of the day was a blur of NBC, CBS, ABC, and FOX. I remember hearing about the field in Pennsylvania.

The next day I was to receive a call with a job offer from the firm in downtown Cincinnati. I didn't hear from them by lunch. I called in the afternoon and was told that a hiring freeze was placed on the company...there headquarters was across the street from the WTC. They moved from Tower 2 after the bombing in the '90s.

A week later I was told that the hiring freeze was permanent.

Two thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two days after the attacks I sit here and type this up. My life is drastically different. I have a great job, a wonderful son, a wonderful marriage, a strong relationship with my Lord than I could ever imagine possible...it almost feels unfair.

Two thousand, nine hundred and seventy-four innocent people died from that attack. America was united. Flags lined every street. Lee Greenwood came out of retirement. Both political parties stood side by side on the capitol steps and sang "God Bless America" with tears streaming down their faces.

Everybody hung "Never Forget" posters in their cubes.

I see one of those posters every now and then. Mostly, I hear people fighting over health care and clunkers and socialism...have we forgotten? We're all on the same side here...

Two thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two days...I didn't hear one mention of the attacks at work today. No moment of silence at 8:46am like we have every year.

We forgot. I prayed in my little cube. I thought about how insurance underwriters (my job) died on that day. I thanked God for all of my blessings...and I didn't promise to never forget.

I promised to always remember.