My hair isn’t that complicated. So when I sat down in the chair to get it cut this week, I assumed it would be a relatively quick and easy experience. I was wrong, dead wrong.
Last November, I was riding the bus home on a cold winter night, and I noticed a chatty, elderly, African-American man as I walked toward the front. He seemed to be the only person who was interested in what he was saying, and I felt suspicious.
I know I’m supposed to like the whole Bible – especially anything Jesus said. But there are a few parts that get under my skin. One in particular is this passage from Luke 17:3-4: “Take heed to yourselves. If your brother sins against you, rebuke him; and if he repents, forgive him. And if he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times in a day returns to you, saying, ‘I repent,’ you shall forgive him.”
As most Americans know, reporter Alison Parker and camera man Adam Ward of WDBJ7 were shot on live TV this morning by an evil man who filmed himself as he did it. He posted the videos on Twitter and Facebook, and before they were removed, the videos were shared on the internet. Before you watch those videos, I encourage you to consider this:
The other day, I was backing up in a parking lot and saw a woman walking in the direction of my car. I kept going, figuring she would stop, but she didn’t. In fact, she gave me the stinky face in my rearview mirror as I put on my brakes and waited for her to pass.
I once knew this guy who regularly started conversations like this: “Have you got a minute? I need your prayers.” Except there was never any prayer involved – it was just a religious intro to gossip.
Recently while my family and I were on vacation, my three-year-old daughter loudly asked the question every parent wants to hear in a public swimming pool: “Daddy, can I go pee pee in the pool?” A young mom with long, blond hair and a number of elaborate tattoos looked over at me and chuckled. But I wasn’t sure if it was a laugh that said, “I’m judging you” or “That sounds like something my kid would say.”
My wife will be embarrassed that I shared this with the general public, but at my old gym, I called myself “the Mayor.” My fellow gym members were okay with me having the title though. I earned it. I worked the room every day, making friends with almost everyone there. But at my new gym, the days of friendliness are over, and it’s not because I’m less friendly. It’s because everyone wears earphones now.
After seven years of marriage, I’m still smitten by my wife. She’s everything I ever wanted in a woman – she’s smart, spiritual, attractive, funny, adventurous, and loves to sing. There is, however, one attribute I wanted in a woman that she does not have, and she will readily admit it: she does not like to scratch my back.
Back in college, I struggled to maintain healthy, close relationships. I was eaten alive with insecurity, which made it hard to have friendships without operating on a relational barter system that left people feeling used.
A few months ago, I got an idea for a book, and it was a good idea. It still is a good idea. However, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I have written about three pages, and that is all.
Christmas in the late 1980s was a rough time for my family. I’m not going into the details here, but suffice it to say that there were a number of financial and emotional issues going on that brought a lot of stress into our lives.
The other day, I was walking through my neighborhood with my two girls, who are three and four years old, when we passed an older, serious looking gentleman. “Hello!” they both said, waving. He looked over at them and kept walking.
When I was a little boy, I desperately wanted to be famous. It probably had a lot to do with me idealizing the lives of the children who appeared on Family Ties and The Cosby Show, not to mention the fact that my parents were struggling financially, and I thought being famous would make us rich.
When I signed up for Facebook in 2008, I saw it as a way to connect with old friends and keep up with the self-affirming things everyone was posting about themselves. What I did not expect was that Facebook would become a place where people worked through life-and-death issues. But then Nan Taylor died.