carbonated joy

In my dream…
It is Sunday, February 4th, 2018.
Super Bowl Sunday.
People are gathered in Minneapolis to witness Super Bowl LII…
The Eagles versus the Patriots.
Millions of others are gathered around their TVs. Many are only there for the commercials, halftime show, or hot wings.
BUT…
Unbeknownst to the sports world, Jerry Jones has secretly funded a sports-science experiment. Mr. Jones has hired the nation’s foremost experts on time travel. They have been working for months in a secret underground laboratory hidden beneath an unassuming Whataburger in Grapevine, Texas. These brilliant scientists have developed a fully operational global time machine that is driven by a flux capacitor. The time machine is fueled by Pepsi, Doritos dust, and a Diana Ross cassette.

After much hype, it’s finally game time.
BUT…
just as Pink starts to magnificently sing the National Anthem, a mysterious man in a blue and gray trench coat hits a red button and strange things begin to happen…
(For dramatic effect: please move your head back and forth as you read this part.)
Suddenly the game changes…
The laws of time, space, and football are violated.
The entire globe is transported back in time to January 28, 1996
Suddenly, Pink is gone and it’s Vanessa Williams singing at Super Bowl XXX!
Tom Brady is a backup quarterback at the University of Michigan.
Instead of Brady there is Troy Aikman. He is joined by Michael Irvin, Deion Sanders, Emmitt Smith, Dermontti Dawson, Kevin Greene, Rod Woodson. Hall of Famers suddenly in their prime again!
It’s the Dallas Cowboys versus the Pittsburgh Steelers. It’s refried awesomeness as The Cowboys defeat the Steelers by the score of 27–17…AGAIN…for the first time!
AND…
The Super Bowl is Super again.
Through the magic of a wrinkle (and sprinkle) in time, America’s Team regains it’s rightful place.

Time is rewritten in my dreams.
AND…
then I wake up on Monday with Doritos dust in my beard and I discover that Super Bowl LII was never played.
The Patriots didn’t raise a flag, the Eagles didn’t fly.
Tom Brady is so distraught that he immediately retires from football and becomes a water purifier salesman in Topeka, Kansas.
Deion Sanders comes out of retirement.
AND…
I become the first ever male Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader.
This all begins a 15 year championship streak for the Cowboys.

That is my big game dream.

We are all looking for the emerald city.
A shiny place where the grass is always greener.
A safe place where a well placed bucket of water can destroy our greatest foe.
A successful place where you simply follow the yellow brick road if you want your wildest dreams to come true.
A showy place where we have no problems because we are popular.

But, inevitably we get a strange feeling that we aren’t in Kansas anymore.
The curtain crashes down and we realize that we’ve been lied to.
We realize that the yellow brick road is cheap spray paint.
We realize that self-manufactured, earthy wizards aren’t really wonderful at all.
It’s all a scam propped up to distract our munchkin minds.
We wrestle with wicked.
We struggle to shake off the flying monkeys that would carry us away.
We think that good will be good enough.
So we feverishly click our heels together and we hunger for home.
But we need more than good.

We need a heart that has been made new.
We need a brain that chooses to believe the truth.
And, we need the courage to confess that we are lost in a strange land.
(A little dog to keep us company also doesn’t hurt.)

There’s no place like home!
We realize that when good proves vain and turns brown, grace is the richest shade of green.
Grace is the only thing that can carry us home like a hot air balloon.
The grace of a good King, rather than a cranky phony wizard.

Love helps us defy gravity,
Because everyone deserves a chance to fly.

The Spirit gently whispers invitation to these dead bones…
“May I have this dance?”
Life and strength return as I find myself led onto the dance floor.
A sweet song washes over me…
I know and I am known.
There is…
Healing,
Freedom,
Forgiveness,
Courage.
The slow groove of undeserved love surrounds me.
I’m allowed to awkwardly move to the unforced rhythm of grace.
And we dance into the darkest night…
as a sweet song washes over me.

When it comes to matters of the art…
Narrowing of the mind is a disease that can affect us all.
We tend to think small when it comes to song, story, sketch, or sculpture.
Narrowing of the mind may be caused by forgetting that “favorite” and “best” are not the same thing.
Narrowing of the mind is serious.
It causes us to disqualify more than we discover.
It can affect all ages.
One of the more obvious symptoms is the tendency to make big, broad statements.
for example:
I hate all rap music.
Fiction is not real literature.
Anything recorded after 1990 is crap.
OR Anything recorded before 1990 is crap.
Abstract art is all weird.
All “secular” art is bad.
Documentaries are boring.
Country music is all garbage.
etc, etc, ad nauseam.
Unlike most viruses, the cure seems to be exposure.
It requires a daily decision to discover, to find something to appreciate even when you don’t understand.
It requires constant self examination.
Stay no to narrowing of the mind.
Live WIDE.

We’re caught in a trap…
We are suspicious of grace.
We live with a distrust of the very best of things.
We’ve been told that if something sounds too good to be true it probably is.
That may be true of used cars, and timeshares, But, we ascribe it to other things…
The very best of things…
Forgiveness, freedom, faith.
We’re caught in a trap…
We are suspicious of grace.
We would never admit it, but we prove it every day as we never stop trying to earn a spot at the table. Our words say we believe, our actions say we aren’t quite sure and we aren’t going to take a chance.
Insecurity fuels our inability to fully receive something we could never earn.
So we live skeptical of mercy.
Unconditional love?
There must be a catch! There has to be a hidden price tag. We look for the fine print, listen for the disclaimer. It’s got to be a scam, it’s snake oil.
We’re caught in a trap…
We are suspicious of grace.
So we work, work, work.
We perform.
We feel we must prove our worthiness to the one who forever established our worth.
We think real love is out of our reach, when it’s been there all along, nailed to a tree.
Mercy isn’t a merit badge.
Grace is gift.
It is pure, sweet, unearned, undeserved gift.
It’s a product of the Giver.
It’s time to break out of the trap.
Trust.
Let yourself be loved.
Free fall into the undeserved.

SNOW DAY…those are two very polarizing words! ( get it…polar?!).
You probably either love or hate snow days.
It’s either magical or messy, usually depending on your age.
For a kid there are few things greater than a snow day.
We would get up early, just to see if we could sleep in late.
Was school closed?
You impatiently watched the names scroll across the bottom of the TV screen.
THEN…FINALLY…THERE IT WAS!!
Your reprieve from the classroom.
WOOOO HOOOO!!!
It was time to play!!
You would get bundled up…
It was a strenuous process.
Long johns…two pairs of pants…t shirt…sweat shirt…old coat…stocking hat…gloves…boots.
Then you would stumble, barely able to move your arms, into the frozen tundra of your front yard.
Where, you would suddenly realize that you REALLY need to pee.
OH MAN!
Finally, You would play for hours until you couldn’t feel your cheeks.
then you went inside and get some tomato soup.
You could feel the healing power of the soup as it slowly made your insides warm again.
There is something undeniably special about a snow day.
Snow days have a way of freezing moments in time.
They have a way of making memories that warm your soul.
As I write this on a snow day, one other snow day in particular stands out.
It was a bitterly cold Oklahoma day.
We were hanging out at our Grandma’s house with a slew of cold, bored cousins.
My Uncle Lee had a jeep.
Guys with jeeps love snow days.
Growing up, My Uncle Lee was the single coolest human being I knew.
He was my hero.
He had long hair. He seldom wore shoes (even on snow days).
He lived wild and free.
He was a peacemaker.
He was kind to little kids and animals.
It seemed like He always had time for us…sometimes adults didn’t.
It’s amazing how the simple act of finding time for kids can make you a rock star in their eyes.
Uncle Lee had a great snow day idea.
He got a chain and a huge piece of black rubber.
Do you see where this is going?
Where normal men see a worthless scrap of tire rubber…
Super cool Uncles see sleds!
He attached the “sled” to the jeep with the rusty chain.
We found a huge, reasonably hazard free field.
Uncle Lee did donuts and we hung on,for dear life, to the homemade sled.
Cousins were flying everywhere as he would take corners.
We laughed hard and tried to hang on.
It seemed like a great idea…
getting dragged behind a jeep and flung into rocks and trees.
Until, our pants filled up with snow.
We were frozen to the bone…it was so cold!
Even the chilliest memories can warm your heart.
I will never forget that snow day.
Snow days have a way of freezing moments in time.
I will never forget that moment.
My Uncle Lee left this world way too early.
He was only 41, he was building his dream house.
In a freak accident he fell backwards and hit his head.
I didn’t understand why that happened…I still don’t.
He was a great man, the epitome of gentle strength.
He was a great husband, father and brother.
He was a really cool uncle.
Cool Uncles make great Grandpas, he never got the chance.
Sometimes real life is bitterly cold.
We are left chilled to the bone.
But because, Snow days have a way of freezing moments in time.
I remember a forever young, cool Uncle and a jeep.
I remember the wild and free moments.
I remember the grown up who took the time to play.
I remember.
The best memories are like tomato soup, they warm your insides.

Excuse me, but don’t I know you from a different life?
I think I recognize you, but you looked younger then…much younger.
I think I remember you, but you look different now…very different.
You lived with wide eyed wonder, but now I look in your eyes and I wonder what changed violet to violent?
There’s a brittle coolness there now where there was once a beautiful curiosity.
And I wonder who sucker punched you in the soul?
You were trusting and tender then, but now you seem troubled and tough…very tough.
You smelled like cotton candy then, now you reek of cynicism.
Reality is sometimes cruel and it crushes childlike dreams with its brutal harshness.
Your heart was broken, and now it’s covered with scar tissue.
You forgot who you are,
But dear one…
It’s
Not
Over!
Come back…
Rediscover….
Remember….
Sometimes we have to grow backwards…be born all over, start again.
It’s not too late for you.
Smell the fresh hope.
Shake off the scales of cynicism, be washed by wild wonder.
Cut the callous spots off your soul.
Broken hearts can be made new.
Go to the Creator, he can re-craft you.
He is bigger than reality.
He transforms violent back into violet.
He turns scar into story.
He has kept your tears in a bottle.
He has held your dreams like precious jewels.
Let the Wonderful One reacquaint you with wonder. Enter wide open places where you can play instead of perform.
Breathe…
Begin…
Be.
Excuse me, but don’t I know you from a brand new life?