carbonated joy

Growing up we never went on a lot of family vacations. I witnessed my friends pack up in their station wagons with their parents and siblings, draw imaginary lines in the back seat and take off for exotic places like Branson or Orlando.
I always thought I was missing out on something.
I’ve since come to realize that, even though I didn’t rack up any frequent flier miles, I didn’t miss the boat.
We never visited Yosemite or the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota.
But, my parents did something far more valuable and vital…
They gave me wings.
They read to me and in front of me.
They showed me the importance of a good book.
Mom read to me and took me to countless library “story-hours” (it was like happy hour for 6 year olds). She was always reading something.
And every night I watched Dad bravely ride the trails with Louis L’Amour without ever leaving his well worn recliner. It’s drastically important for a boy to see his Dad read. It demonstrates that knowledge and imagination are some of the manliest of pursuits.
By example, my folks handed me a perpetual passport.
They gave me permission to take a staycation in the nation of Imagine.
And…
Oh, the places I’ve gone!
I once visited a little house on a prairie, I saw where the red fern grows. I moseyed through the OK Corral and sat at a round table. I learned to stay gold. I’ve orbited Jupiter and explored Narnia. I’ve spent a lot of time at Hogwarts and I’ve hung out with hobbits. I’ve met a Big Friendly Giant and a pirate named Long John Silver. I’ve hitchhiked across the galaxy and set sail on the Mississippi.
I really don’t like to brag, but I’ve gone where the wild things are with a cat in a hat.
I have believed six impossible things before breakfast.
Thank you Mom and Dad for giving me something more valuable than an amusement park fastpass. By your example you ignited my imagination and showed me that I can cross all boundaries and borders.
It’s been a truly beautiful journey.
It’s a spring break that still goes on.

I think one reason for the strong reaction against United airlines about the removal of a passenger (besides the BIG fact that it’s horribly wrong) is that it touches a raw nerve in each of us. We all seem to live under the constant threat of rejection. We all find ourselves in spaces and places where we are pretty sure we don’t belong.
We are different, we don’t know all the right answers, we aren’t following the dress code, we don’t have the pedigree or possessions to guarantee a space for ourselves.
We somehow found our way to the table and found the place card with our name. But, it’s got to be a mistake, right?! I mean, come on, if they really knew, surely someone would jerk our place card and point us toward the exit. And, if we refused to leave, they would drag us away kicking and screaming.
Our unbelongingness will be revealed for the whole world to see.
That is our fear.
That is the reason we cringe at the sight of a grown man being dragged from a plane.
That
Could
Be
Us.
That should be us.
Beloved, let me tell you something deep and true…YOU BELONG.
There is a place at the table for you.
The place card is written in permanent ink.
There is a space that only YOU can fill.
The table will never be overbooked.
It grows.
You belong…
RIGHT HERE…
RIGHT NOW.
I feel so ridiculously strong about your belongingness that I did something a little cheesy.
I made you an official forever place card.
Print it out, write your name on it, laminate it, show it to anyone who tries to make you leave.
You are a card carrying belonger.

Carry your card EVERYwhere.
Because, chances are there will be a SOMEwhere that you don’t feel like you belong. In those times look at your place card and realize that there is a place for you…
RIGHT HERE…
RIGHT NOW…
No matter where and when that is.
Then, sit down, relax, be yourself, and, for the love of God, don’t let ANYone pull you out of your seat.

Yonder is a good southern word.
As a child of the south, I’ve heard it all my life. I’ve taken it for granted. I failed to recognize the unparalleled expansiveness of yonder.
But, not anymore…
It’s become one of my favorite words.
It’s a directional word…
“Go out yonder”.
It’s also a word without limits…
“Here we go into the wide blue yonder”.
Yonder is a word that makes you wonder.
It opens the gate and invites you to explore.
Yonder always takes you further.
It’s a time released container of “more”.
It takes you outside the limits, outside your field of vision.
Yonder creates both uncertainty and courage, because you are never sure if you’ve arrived, but you are having a great adventure.
You can see why it’s become one of my favorite words.
I want to live in the outlying land of yonder.
It’s wide opener out there.
I know the way, the directions are simple…
Just go out yonder.

No one was really sure where Captain Cornelius Kaleidoscope came from. He just showed up one day when we needed him the most. He drove into the Shadowlands in an old short school bus that he had converted into a fantastical food truck. It was bright orange and painted in purple across the side were the words “Kaleidoscope’s traveling eatery and emporium of wild wonder”. He pulled up and parked it in a vacant lot near the abandoned corn syrup factory one day (it was a Tuesday if memory serves), then he opened up the side concession window and started serving up waffles and falafels, corndogs and chili buns and MORE!!
He also served up wild wonder and fresh whimsy, things that had long ago disappeared from the Shadowlands.
No matter if people ordered funnel cakes or cheese fries, everybody got a heaping helping of wonder.
That looked different for every customer. Because, Captain Kaleidoscope customized the curiosity. One person would get a story about knights and princesses, another would get a song about silly pirates. There were hula hoop exhibitions and belching contests, spontaneous dance parties, and one time the Captain played the accordion with his feet for mean Mr. Muggle. Folks say that it was the first time that Mr. Muggle had smiled in over 37 years.
Captain Kaleidoscope was a wild eyed purveyor of a pure wonder that changed everything. It ignited hope.
Of course, it made no sense…
It was strange and silly. But we learned to not lose the WOW by asking HOW. We realized that some things are just meant to leave you breathless.
Something chunky and happy was happening…it was almost like light was breaking through the cracks in the clouds and the Shadowlands were changing.
Along with serving quite possibly the worlds best fried bologna sandwich, Captain Kaleidoscope showed us that wonder and whimsy show up everyday in the smallest and strangest and biggest and boldest ways.

This is hardly an exhaustive list, but You can find wonder and whimsy in:
• The smell of new crayons and old books
• running barefoot through a mud puddle.
• tacos.
• sunsets.
• the laughter of a toddler.
• a cup of hot cocoa with miniature marshmallows.
• a new pair of socks.
• a song by Stevie Wonder.
• space, the final frontier.
• eating jello with your hands.
• banjo music.
• puppy breath.
• holding the hand of a loved one as they pack a suitcase for a place none of us have ever been.

Wonder really is like a kaleidoscope. It looks different for everyone. The shapes of whimsy are ever changing. Even, in the darkest places, a little light can unleash the most magnificent colors.

Then, one day (it was a Thursday if memory serves), when the shadows had left the Shadowlands, Captain Kaleidoscope quietly packed up the orange food truck and moved on. Without fanfare or farewell, He just headed down the road leaving a trail of powdered sugar. We suspected that he was in search of more hungry people.
People who were hungry for hoagies.
People who were hungry for hope.

We were never the same. We gained a few pounds and we had discovered joy.
It was there all along.
Wonder had won.

There are certain completely inappropriate things that you should do on a daily basis,
It’s completely medicinal, You can help yourself maintain a healthy and happy homeostasis.

For an uncomfortable buzz in your belly, drink something fizzy and let out a loud throaty burp.
Also, if you eat some delicious soup, to get it all, you might have to occasionally awkwardly slurp.

And when you do burp, make it count! Own it! Be proud!
Play “name that food”! Break forth in belch long and loud!

If you hold in your gas, it’s a scientific fact that you will likely explode.
So let it go!! FYI, a crowded elevator is a real fun place to download.

If you get a chance, it’s always fun to spit on the ground or in a ditch.
You should always take time to sit and scratch your feet if they itch.

Maybe your finger is the exact same size as your nostril for a very good reason.
But, just know, you should carefully practice some discretion during flu season.

Laugh so hard that something comes flying right out of your nose,
By the way, Chocolate milk is preferred for this practice, I suppose.

Realize that your body makes some obnoxious noises strictly for entertainment purposes.
Celebrate that!! Let it rip and laugh it off, especially in serious settings and services.

Remember, live with a little spark of madness.
If able, try hard to boycott perpetual sadness.
If you really live, you are going to offend somebody.
Don’t let that keep you from living loud, crazy or kinda gaudy.

There are certain completely inappropriate things that you should do on a daily basis,
Learning to laugh at yourself, while celebrating who you are can be refreshing like an oasis.

Hey dear one!! Look out, look out…
There are identity thieves lurking about.
Culture, comparison, criticism…
can create a personality schism.
They sneak in and suddenly demand your attention.
Then they cause more damage than I care to mention.

They try to suck all of the SOMETHING right out of you.
I wish I were making this up, but sadly and madly it’s true.
They lie and steal and try to leave you a BIG NOTHING.
BUT, Oh no!! that’s not you…you are undeniably SOMETHING!!

Stand firm, hold on tight to your wonderful somethingness.
Don’t let anything or anyone convince you that you are LESS.
Learn to live comfortable in your own skin.
Know that something great resides within.

The truly true song that we all should sing
Is that, truly, no one is never, EVER a nothing.
Every life matters, every someone counts.
There are never, EVER identity discounts.
ALL were made in the image of the maker.
Whether they live truly true or as a faker.
AND, you?
You are never, EVER a not or a nothing,
YOU, dear one, are undeniably SOMETHING!!

My body is a wonderland.

Ohh, it’s true…my body makes people wonder.
People are curious about my freakishly short legs and confused about my weird beard, I get that.
But then things get really interesting when they notice the colorful ink on my arms.
There’s just no denying it, my skin tells a story.
Right now, I have eleven tattoos.
Each one is significant to me.
There is no wasted space.
Each tattoo tells a story.
Each one signifies something that I’m passionate about, something that I have great affection for.
My Wife’s name is on my calf. I have a burning heart on my arm that symbolizes my faith. I have a Panther that is a tribute to my Dad. I have a super sweet Yoda PEZ dispenser on my leg (that one REALLY hurt, but it was worth it!).
Almost daily I have opportunity to connect with strangers and tell a story because of my arm art.

But, I’ve had other people question my heart because of my art.
They have brutally attacked me, armed with well intentioned indignation and a Bible verse from Leviticus.
(Side note: that verse in chapter 19 was speaking to a very specific cultural practice of the time that had nothing to do with the reasons most people get tattoos today, the same chapter outlaws shaving and eating a rare steak.)
The ink police have treated me like I’m a disease.
Some have forbidden their children to talk to me, like I have a contagious skin disease. (I wish I was making that up).
Their words dig deeper than any tattoo needle.

For the record, I don’t think that EVERYone should get tattooed. The beautiful thing about self expression is that it should be expressing your self in a completely unique way. That is supposed to look different on all of us. Your story looks different than mine.
The important thing is that your story gets told.
We should give each other a little space and grace.

But, I think that not only can tattoos tell story, they can teach…
We can even learn from the healing process for a tat. Healing takes a while. During the process, the art is scabby and a little puffy. Sometimes,during the healing process, you can’t really see the picture clearly. In the first few hours, it’s really hard to distinguish because it’s clouded by blood and ink.
Tattoos are art that grows on you. It’s a scar that becomes a story.
Life is like that too, healing can be a process. It takes a little time for our scars to become stories. Life is art that grows on you. Many times life is clouded and it doesn’t make sense, you can’t see the picture clearly. Give it time, healing and art and story come.
The Creator of art and expression is bringing story from scar in you.
Because, here’s the crazy thing…
In Isaiah 49:16, God says: “l have written your name on the palms of my hand”
We have a tattooed God.
The symbolism is that the Creator has engraved what He is passionate about on His hand.
The object of His greatest affection…
You.
You are significant.
You are story.
So sit back.
Breathe.
This might hurt a bit.
Trust the Artist.
You’re going to have an incredible story to tell.

Myrtle Lauper grew up with stars in her eyes.
She loved to imagine while staring into the skies.
She would lay outside on the grass late at night,
Yearning for places that were truly out of sight.
I’m sure that now, folks have goals that are stranger,
But Myrtle daydreamed of becoming a space ranger.
She wanted to chase Jupiter in a shiny, metal ship.
Thoughts of defying gravity made her heart gleefully skip.
Myrtle would sigh and wonder, what would it be like…
To bravely explore the moon on a motorized space bike?
Sadly, Myrtle grew up stuck in a time when women were put in their place.
They cooked dinner and changed diapers and never traveled to outer space.
Myrtle raised her family with absolutely no regret.
But, her starry visions she absolutely refused to forget.
Myrtle never ever gave up star gazing.
She has always been a fan of the amazing.
She would look at the deep blue sky at night,
And lose herself in the illuminating moonlight.
She learned that imagination can defy expectations.
In your mind you can overcome the crippling limitations.
So each night, Myrtle would look up, because up is where the best dreams are found.
Just because you can’t leave doesn’t mean you have to leave your feet on the ground.
Today, Myrtle’s kids are moved out, her husband has long ago passed away.
But, she still looks up, even when she has a sad song kind of lonely day.
Even now, sweet Myrtle still likes to dream big cosmic dreams.
Age hasn’t slowed her, in fact, it’s busted out some seams.
She closes her tired eyes and dreams of a soon coming day,
When she and her dearly departed will dance on the Milky Way.

What can we learn from dear old Myrtle?
Don’t let despair wrap you up like a girdle.
Imagination has no expiration date.
Your greatest adventure might still await.
You are never too old to awaken the wonder,
To be left breathless by the music of thunder.
Your imagination can take you to faraway, unlimited places.
It’s your passport to all the unexplored, wide open spaces.
Never outgrow wonder or whimsy, never forget to dream.
Second half dreams might be the best you’ve ever seen.