The Heart Matters

Ever have one of those dreams that you can’t just shake out of your head? I had one of those last night. It was so real and actually sort of funny – not, “haha” funny, but the sort of funny where you hope it was a joke because, if not, then something is way messed up – like Fargo messed up. Anyway the dream went something like this.

Steve and I decide to buy this decrepit farmhouse. The siding was rough wood, sort of like a barn might have, but stained dark. The front door was huge and was accessible from the street while the back of the house seemed built up high on what seemed like stilts. The yard below had toys and debris strewn about here and there. The property went on for miles, the boundary hidden by a small wooded area. I suppose this must have been our “dream home.”

Steve and I bought a house sort of like this one

The interior was vast with raised ceilings. The previous owners had left the house filled with their possessions. This place was a treasure trove of furniture, kitchen ware, knick-knacks, not to mention fashion accessories.

Maybe the house itself isn’t so odd or unusual. I’m sure we’ve all had dreams about crazy places that we were living in, but this dream was more than that. It was full of people from my church.

This is when things get weird. I am sorting through children’s toys. In the corner of the main living space was a toy kitchenette and an assortment of plastic pink tea cups and plates. Jell-O jiggler molds were strewn among the tea set. I turn to Dr. Hugs who suggests that I dispose of the tea set. I state that I am going to keep these things for young girls that come over to play since we purchased this place for ministry.

Joel and I continue to sort through vast amounts of crap. It is exhausting. Next thing I know, Kat comes in the room with a catalogue or pamphlet. She begins to page through it, showing Joel what she has selected. I ask what they need.

Kat says, “A new heart for Joel.” They are calm and jovial as they page through the booklet.

Kathryn helps Joel get a new heart.

I am a bit confused, even worried, but I don’t ask any questions. They seemed to be really having a good time picking out his new heart. I figure that heart shopping must be normal.

A hoard of boys, led by Wonder, comes rushing down the staircase and floods into the kitchen. Like grasshoppers, they devour whatever they can find. As quickly as they entered the kitchen, they leave headed for the backyard. I barely raise an eyebrow to this chaotic event. Focused, I continue to sort through all this crap.

Ms. Wonder and I are now going through Christmas ornaments and decorations. She asks if she can take I few of the items home. “No problem.” I reply. 

Then, a shopping cart full of handbags rolls by and I run to see what is being removed from the house. Amy, Mel, Andie and Kat are making a quick exit for the front door. I rush to the door to bar their exit.

“What is going on here?” I demand. One of the women tells me that they need these bags, “It’s a matter of life and death.” they clamor. I counter that these items are going to be sold for ministry and if anyone gets to take a bag it will be me. (Okay, clearly I am a bit narcissistic.)

Then Amy chimes in, “You can’t even name the designer of any of these bags.”

Who knew I could name a handbag design?

Steve enters and says the girls can take them if they want and I go ballistic, “Vera Wang!” I shout. “That is a Vera Wang bag and no one is keeping any of this stuff for themselves – not without paying for it.” I am so angry at everyone at this point.

Joel approaches me and begins to whisper something in my ear. I don’t understand what he said except that something will happen at sixteen. I am so confused by that because what does that even mean. What does he want me to do at “sixteen?”

Suddenly, there is a knock at the front door and a woman who looks a lot like one of the Golden Girls enters the vast living room. She is outraged by the ruckus caused by the numerous teenagers and also annoyed by their cars parked in the grassy lawn. I try to explain that we moved into this old farmhouse in order to do ministry and that they boys were welcomed on our property.

I was again confused how she was able to hear anything since her place was across this stream from our place, not to mention that she looked so aged. She was adamant that we cease the commotion or pay a price.

Meanwhile, Joel keeps tapping at his watch and mumbling something about sixteen. Sixteen what? He insists that something big is going down at “sixteen.” Next thing I know, Nicole is high tailing it down to the yard with a crate full of holiday decor. I just throw my hands up into the air. Everyone is too caught up with the stuff and the details. I have lost all semblence of control. Somehow the “big picture” has been lost – that being that this place was for ministry and that we were going to sell these things to run the place. I surrender.

I look up and Joel’s arm is extended, his watch is placed in my line of vision. “Sixteen,” he reminds me.

“Huh, Okay?” I stammer.

Can anyone tell me what happens at 16?

My alarm interrupts. The farmhouse vanishes and with it the ridiculous behavior of our Home Church. I’m sure it really doesn’t  mean any thing important, yet it was so vivid. I ponder my apparent surrender. I’m okay with that.

One thing though is bugging me. I can’t figure out why. Does anyone know what will happen at sixteen?

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This just cracks me up. Thought I’d share this video with those who see David Hasselhoff and just crack up .

Don\’t Hassel the Hoff - Warning this video contain images of Kit the car, a middle aged David Hasselhoff and some 80’s hot babes – MTV style.

Enjoy this tribute to the 80’s – David Hasselhoff style.

Hehehehehe - This just cracks me up!

"Michael, look out!"

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Toilet, toilet, and more toilets! I can’t seem to get away from the topic of toilets. My youngest two sons sing the praise of port-a-potties as they head out the door for school. They claim that they are the most amazing invention of all time!

Then I turn on the radio. Ugh….

For the second day in a row toilets have been making the headlines. This time it is the toilet in the International Space Station. How crappy is that? I mean – you are in the vacuum of space in this high tech tin can and there is no place to take a pee.  Don’t even think about number two.

Seriously, where do you go when the toilet is broken? Port-a-potties are out of the question. So where can a guy get some relief? In a space jar? And is it even possible to pee into a jar in space with the whole “weightless” and low gravity thing going down? Who wants human waste floating by while performing some experiment or taking a nap?  Just nasty, I say.

It is not as if you can go outside and take a leak on the bushes.  The whole vacuum of space thing ruins that option. Since the “bush” option is out, NASA has pulled together a team of scientists to repair the malfunctioning “head.” They actually have an entire team of scientists working on this round the clock.

I heard that the shuttle launch maybe postponed so that necessary replacement parts will make it to the space station. I guess NASA does not just have spare toilet innards readily available – after all this is a very special space commode. It is the most expensive toilet in the world.

The way the news agencies are carrying on you’d think that the poor astronauts haven’t relieved themselves for days – that they are all hopping around trying to hold it until the cavalry appears with the supplies to save the day – when in fact a toilet has been rigged and the team is using the Soyuz head until replacement parts for the Zvezda service module toilet arrive on the next shuttle mission.

The Soyuz won’t hold much so look out earth – one wrong or enormous movement and “there she blows,” so to speak.

The earth awaits – holding her breath – and nose. Will the replacement parts arrive in time? Will the shuttle mission save humanity from its own filth? Will there be a reenactment of the “big bang?” Will someone suffer a bladder infection since they had to hold it?

Oh, the possibilities! I guess I will just have to tune in tomorrow for another update on Space Toilets.

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TOILETS…I never realized just how great a role they play in my life. The past several weeks I have had some pretty excellent potty times.

I know, this is totally too much information for you all – especially when you understand that I am an adult and have been one for quite sometime, but please bear with me for just a few moments and I think you’ll begin to see why toilets have such importance.

I guess it first started about ten years ago in a Home Depot. Evan, Seth, Noah and I were shopping for some item for a home improvement project. I was wandering the aisles searching for just the right faucet for my new kitchen sink.  All three of the boys were at my side, or so I thought.  I turned the corner to find one of my sons, who shall remain nameless, sitting upon this porcelain throne. He was taking a “dump.”

I gathered all the children and waddled (I was about seven months pregnant with Henry) as quick as I could out of the store. We fled, not telling a soul what had happened until that fateful night in cell where I spilled the “beans.” 

Ever since that revealing evening, toilets have been making their presence known in my life. Perhaps, it is like some sort of “Ghost of Commode’s Past” haunting me and reminding me of my spineless ways – relentlessly mocking me with reminders of cowardice past. Or it could just be some odd coincidence?

Oh and those automatic flushing toilets – let me tell you – they have minds of their own. Those suckers flush on you at the most inopportune moments – leaving a startling freshness that only a bidet should offer. Anyway, some how the handicap guardians saw to it that I should suffer at their hands for always taking the handicap accessible stall. I was flushed and “that was that.”

The most precious thrones by far were the toilets that I encountered while in Kentucky during a recent retreat. Both the toilets at the hotel and the convention center were pristine as only the mother of four sons could understand. These seats appeared to never have been tainted by the christening of urine or dribbles of “pee-pee.”

I lingered just a moment and gazed into the pristine white paradise, not a stain to be seen.  At that moment, I understood a little something about heaven – right here on earth. I experience pure and simple joy – the pure and simple joy of undefiled porcelain!

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Xenia Christian Center will pay 25 cents of the price of every gallon of gas. In an attempt to attract people to their Easter Sunday service this church, a discount will be given at a local convenience mart to those who attend the Easter service. Perhaps this is an attempt to meet both the physical and spiritual needs of the community with a fill up fuel – fuel for both the auto and the soul that is.

I am curious why this church is promoting their Easter service – perhaps competing with the other local denominations which so readily fill up with those bi-annual pilgrims – pilgrims who make a dutiful journey to God’s House for the High Holy Days of Easter and Christmas. Or perhaps the church shoppers will be out in full force and the pastor is hoping to snag a few strays.

Whatever the reason for this gimmick – I wonder what the results will be. Will the parking lot be full of crazy deal shoppers – like those victims of Black Friday who flock to the malls in order to get one of the few “door busters” available?  Will people drive recklessly in order to get their spot in the parking lot? Will families bring multiple cars in order to get multiple vouchers? Will deal seekers be turned away as the church exceeds the fire codes? How long do you have to stay in order to earn your coupon?  Will there be a gallon limit?

Many images come to mind as I envision the mayhem and chaos of Easter morning at this Christian Center. Easter bonnets will fly in the air as mothers scramble for position. Orchids may be crushed in the rush for the door. Will a bouncer guard the door and only let the chosen into the service?  Will you be locked in until the benediction? Will this contribute to the growth of the church?  Will someone receive Christ and gain an eternal relationship with their creator?

I guess with diminishing attendance and coffers, many churches are desperately seeking seekers. Or are they?

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Tomorrow is Tuesday and for those in the Hughes Home Church that can mean only one thing – time to gather together for mutual edification and fellowship. This Tuesday will be no different than any other. Brothers and sisters will come together seeking to welcome guests into our meeting – any guest but one.

Old Man Winter is has been crashing our Tuesday evening meetings. His arrival has cancelled one February meeting and nearly cancelled last week’s. Quick thinking and resourceful stewards found another venue for our meeting. The Lagotte’s apartment made a “nice and cozy” environment for all the “children” to gather around as Papa Hugs finished up our teaching series from the Book of Acts.

A winter weather storm advisory has been put into effect for Tuesday once again! The most unwanted guest of ‘08 is threatening to make yet another appearance. This treacherous weather threatens to dampen or even prevent our weekly gatherings.

Let us not lose hope and practice all diligence and make every effort to attend Tuesday’s meeting. Let us show this Old Man that his lame attempts will not hinder the gathering together of the church.

Also, let us pray that the system passes or dissipates so that perhaps the wanted and welcomed guest will attend our meeting.

See you Tuesday!

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For all you leap year loving folks – here is a shout out for February 29th! So you may be asking, why add an extra day to our calendar? February 29 is a date that occurs only every four years, and is called leap day. This day is added to the calendar in leap years as a corrective measure, because the earth does not orbit around the sun in precisely 365.000 days.

Another interesting reason for February 29th is that women may propose marriage on that day; this tradition goes back to some wacky queen of Scotland named Margaret in the 1200’s. I’m not certain of the story behind this tradition but it originated with her.

 Oh and for those who are curious what “bissextile” means – here is the definition. bis·sex·tile (bis seks′til, -təl, -tīl′)

adjective

1. denoting the extra day (February 29) of a leap year
2. designating or of a leap year

Etymology: LL bisextilis, containing an intercalary day < bisextus < bis, twice (see bi-) + sextus, sixth: Feb. 24 (sixth day before the calends of March) was reckoned twice every fourth year.

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Well now Jesus is pimping beauty products  – well at least he was in Singapore.  Provocatively dressed, bodacious women gaze up into the eyes of their Redeemer. The women promote the use of virtuous vanilla lip balm – so that the “King of Kings” will surely notice you among his flock.  Don’t worry about straying from the flock – because if you do – you can “get tight with Jesus, redeem your reputation and get his attention.” So if you don’t think Christ cares and is listening just delve into some of this redemptive hand lotion.

The Catholic population of Singapore was so insensed that the product line was pulled from the market. Too bad – I think it is sort of funny that people would take such offense. I mean don’t we all cover up our filth with some sort of veneer.  Why not just be honest about it and use such a fine beauty line. 

We all want others including God to think that we are worthy of his attention – now you can go and buy a product like will make HIM notice you.

 Top Shop’s crowning commentary on Christian hypocrisy – intended or not!

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     Good Ol’Phil

Well, if you chose Chuck – you did well.  I’d like to think so at least. 

Once again Buckeye Chuck and Phil disagree.  Chuck did not see his shadow – so expect winter to be mild in Ohio. Phil on the other hand did see his shadow, so expect a harsh and bitter winter in Pennsylvania. (Too bad -so sad)

I have been accused of not having a life – I mean writing about groundhogs and following their different weather predictions.

Maybe he is right – maybe not.  All I can say for certain is that someday I will blog on Winnie the Pooh’s alter-ego CRAP.

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Punxsutawney Phil - less filling                   Buckeye Chuck -tastes great

Pennsylvania Dutch brought the Groundhog’s Day tradition to America in the 18th Century. February 2, also regarded as Candlemas, occurs half way between the first day of winter and the first day of spring. If the day is sunny, and the groundhog sees his shadow, the remaining six weeks will be stormy and cold. If the day is overcast, with rain or snow, so the groundhog doesn’t cast a shadow, the rest of the winter will be mild.

Well, tomorrow is Groundhog’s Day. It has been a day both anticipated and jeered in the Beech household.  Many a Beech have awakened with hope and excitement only to have that joy dampened by the glow of the morning light and blue skies.  In fact Granny Beech makes her annual  pilgrimage to Punxsutawney and waits in the dark, cold silence prior to dawn’s break. She, of course,  is of Pennsylvania and being from that state must pay homage to Phil on his special day. I and my little Beechlings, however, are of Ohio and will rush to the radio to hear Chuck’s forecast.  (Apparently, Ohioans have more sense and remain in doors.) Will the sun shine in Marion?  Will winter hold its clutches on us for another 46 days? Tomorrow will tell.

I find it sort of silly that people will do or get into almost anything.  Ridiculous, a gopher-like critter can actually foretell the weather patterns for the next 6 or so weeks.  What if my son awoke and took his Winnie the Pooh outside and said that Pooh’s shadow or absence of shadow can predict how long winter will remain. Would people gather at my door in anticipation? Would Steve proclaim the words of Pooh to the world? Do I dwell in the Hundred Acres Woods?

Last year Phil and Chuck did not concur in their predictions.  Who was right?  I don’t even remember. So why will I get up and listen to the live broadcast featuring Buckeye Chuck?  I have no clue.  But awake I must and listen and hope – for spring to arrive – as soon as possible.

Some of the most traumatic moments of my life involve ground hogs.  I recall exiting my home one morning only to be greeted by the bloody remains of a groundhog my dog Jack drug (with pride I’m sure) to our front stoop. Yes, the headless carcass lay across our threshold. Then I realized why there is a song”Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts” – their guts do look greasy. Yuck! I’m certain that Jack thought that he had somehow contributed to the welfare of our household. Such a trophy he bestowed upon us that morning. Such a monument to gore – to the food chain.

So, which groundhog will you choose? Chuck or Phil?  Who is the most appetizing? Who tastes great? Who is less “Philing”?

So who will you chose Phil or Chuck?

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