carbonated joy

It was a big denominational meeting.

There was serious denominational work to be done.

The organizers of our organization split up the meeting, they had one meeting on the west coast and one on the east coast. I was an east coast boy.

There was intense restructuring going on and we spent hours looking at flowcharts and discussing organizational culture. At the time I was a district youth director so I was cordially invited…weeee!!

The meeting consisted of almost all men. There were two ladies, my boss and the event planner.

There were a lot of older men with more impressive titles and much more experience than me.

As I sat in the back of the meeting space, trying hard to not say anything stupid, I began to realize that changes were coming.

I could sense that it wouldn’t be long before the restructuring was going to affect me…

WHAT?!!

I was doing the job that I had dreamed of since I was twelve.

I got the feeling that was about to change.

After dropping the dream bomb, they casually announced we were going to take a break.

We had all worked really hard and it was stressful wrestling with all this…

yeah, thanks man.

They informed us that we were going to have a “fun night”.

I needed some fun, so I tried to just shake things off.

Fun night…

We heard rumors that the west coast guys went to a Dodgers game the week before, so we were expecting big things.

There was a minor league hockey team in town. They were playing that night!

PERFECT!!!

It was a perfect hockey crowd! A bunch of dudes who had been cooped up in meetings for two days!! We needed to blow off some steam!!

The event planner came into the meeting room as we were about to dismiss for the day.

She excitedly announced that she had something special planned for the evening…

In the conference center where we were staying, a regional theater group was performing the broadway show, Annie.

We all had tickets…

WHAT?!!

Did I mention that this meeting consisted of almost all dudes? Mostly old dudes?

It wasn’t really a musical crowd.

My boss didn’t even go, she stayed in her room and ironed clothes.

We were disgusted…but, we were also bored, so we stuck around.

Something happened.

In the midst of dreams being restructured, I found some hope.

I wasn’t the only one. I looked around the room and cynicism was being replaced by wonder.

I saw it on the faces of men who had heard and seen it all.

We were captured by the story of a plucky little orphan.

By the end, MOST of us were singing along.

At one awkward point, I even tried to hold hands with my friend, Jim Cooper. He quickly let me know that was NOT okay.

Life is crazy, just when you have everything figured out and you are living the dream, everything changes.

Sometimes, when you want hockey you get Hannigan.

It’s a hard knock life, it is full of twists.

Sometimes you can get restructured right out of things.

‘Stead of treated,

You get tricked.

Maybe you need a new song and story.

Sometimes, when you want hockey you get Hannigan.

Go with it.

You are probably going to have more fun than you think.

What do you do when Life gives you Miss Hannigan Again and Again?

You learn to sing along.

Because…the sun will come out tomorrow.

Bet your bottom dollar.

I was impatiently waiting in line for driving school.

I was ready to drive…

Preferably FAST!

I was 10 years old.

I was waiting in line for the bumper cars at Bell’s Amusement Park in Tulsa.

I loved the bumper cars, they made me feel very mature. After all I WAS driving and I was learning valuable transportation skills.

You don’t have to be coordinated or super brave to drive bumper cars. You just need to be able to sorta steer and press down on a metal pedal.

I was very concerned that I would be able to reach the pedals. I wore my tallest shoes, it worked out!

I had a ticket to ride!

We all ran to get the shiniest car, because it had to be the fastest. Hopefully it was red.

I quickly buckled up and surveyed my competitors. Where were my buddies?

I waited impatiently as it took FOREVER for everyone to find a car and get ready.

Then it would start…

The crackling static of the poles that connected the cars to the ceiling. It sounded kinda like a bug zapper.

We screeched around the floor.

Bumper cars are like a demolition derby for the whole family. You get to ram into complete strangers. You try to keep it friendly and avoid knocking dental work loose.

It was awesome! We were moving at the blistering speed  of 3 miles per hour. At one point, I thought the wind was in my hair, but it turns out that someone had thrown a Pepsi at my head.

The Bell’s bumper car school of driving was very beneficial.

Here are a few things I learned…

It wasn’t long enough!

Once upon a time…

Dear One,

Made to feel like you are not enough because you are not the same.

Oh dear one…

How could you ever be “less than” when you bear the mark of your Maker?

I know the Artisan who made you.

Image made to reflect Him in choice and creativity.

Likeness made to be like Him in how we hold and heal, in how we show kindness and love.

Image and likeness make us all the same and equal.

God is kaleidoscope.

The Creator is EVERY imaginable subtle shade of beauty and goodness, endless creativity, whimsy and wonder.

No one child or culture could contain all of that!

We can only properly reflect IMAGE when we stand together in LIKENESS.

So dear one…

You

were

made.

Rise up off the cellar floor.

And refuse to ever be the same.

(Genesis 1:26)

thank you Lisa Sharon Harper and Jen Hatmaker for igniting these thoughts.

25 years ago today, I almost died.

April 24, 1993 was a Saturday.

At first, it seemed like a normal Saturday destined to come and go and be forgotten like so many other Saturdays. But, this would prove to be a Saturday that I can’t ever forget…

Diana and I were youth pastors at a church in Tulsa. We lived in a little bitty house on the church grounds. The house was roughly the exact same size and shape as a cardboard shoe box. It was between two identical shoe box houses that were occupied by our friend, Marilyn, and the senior pastors, Howard and Catherine Mabery. The houses aren’t there anymore, they were all demolished years ago to make room for a QuikTrip parking lot.

I had worked all day at Mardel (a bookstore AND office supply place). Diana, who we had just found out was PREGNANT, was away at a women’s conference in Buffalo Gap, Texas. I got home from work about 6:30 pm. I was all alone, and I had some BIG ambitious manly plans. I was going to eat some hearty, manly grub—a delicious and nutritious Hungry Man salisbury steak TV dinner—and I was going to watch professional wrestling and probably make rude, manly noises.

It doesn’t get much better than that.

When I got home I noticed the sky looked really weird. It was almost a surreal shade of gray. I turned on the TV, and the high-strung local weatherman was nervously talking about storm fronts and funnel clouds and possible tornadic activity. If you live in Oklahoma for any amount of time, you get used to the threat of tornadoes. Storms are just a natural part of life in the Sooner state, you do learn not to sleep naked during tornado season.

I wasn’t too worried…

I put my Hungry Man meal in the microwave and set the timer. I put on some old basketball shorts and was about to assume my rightful position in the recliner with a remote control in my hand when the silence was broken by some loud sirens going off right outside.

I wasn’t sure what was going on, so I called my neighbors who had survived many more tulsa springtimes than me…

Howard and Catherine Mabery were great people who had been pastors for about 50 years. They loved Jesus, people, and all-you-can-eat seafood buffets. When the sirens starting blaring, I called them, and Catherine answered.

I said, “What is that?”

She replied, “Well, it’s a tornado.”

I said, “Oh, what do I do?”

She answered, “Get somewhere!”

Then she hung up—evidently so she could get somewhere herself.

The wind was really picking up outside, so I decided I really ought to get somewhere, although I didn’t know where to get. I remembered hearing somewhere that the bathroom was the safest room in the house, which is reassuring because I spend a lot of time there. I ran in and knelt down by the tub.

The weather was actually getting pretty scary at this point. It was getting noisier, and the wind was getting stronger. I started praying hard and fast. I was pleading with God for protection. I just wanted to see my wife. I wanted to be around to meet my unborn child. I could hear and feel things banging up against the side of our little house. It literally sounded like a freight train was going right through our living room. I was facedown on our bathroom floor, shaking and shivering and crying out for help. I reached out and clung to the nearest possible anchor…the toilet.

It’s during times like this…

when all pretense and pride is stripped away, that you realize what’s really important in life.

It’s just you and God and a storm, and you realize what matters most.

It wasn’t what I was wearing or driving. It didn’t matter where we lived or that we only had $2.37 in our checking account.

It was pretty simple: What mattered was my faith and my family and friends.

And that was it.

Then just as quickly as the storm started, it ended, and there was a tangible weird stillness all around.

I lay there shaking on the bathroom floor hugging the toilet for a while. When I was able to finally get up, I realized our little house was intact.

I walked outside, and it looked almost like a war zone. Howard and Catherine were fine, although the tornado had demolished Catherine’s little storage building. She had kept 40 years worth of sewing and craft supplies in it, so there were strands of fabric everywhere. Broken glass and wood were everywhere. Large chunks of other people’s houses were in our front yards. The storm had knocked out the windows in our cars and knocked the steeple off the church. The wooden playground and jungle gym were totally gone.

My parents somehow got through several roadblocks to check on me.

We walked around, trying to take it all in.

There was so much to take in.

It was a F4 tornado that left a 6 mile path of destruction. Our little houses were right in the path.

The tornado hit a large truck stop right across the highway from us. It killed 7 people there. They were people who were just trying to get home. These people were parents, grandparents, children, brothers, and sisters. They had plans and dreams.

But their plans and dreams came to an ugly end on a spring day in Tulsa.

The truck stop was totally wiped out. Twisted steel and destruction were everywhere. Yet right where the truck stop kitchen had been minutes before, there was a Styrofoam container of eggs just sitting there, and not one of the eggs was even cracked.

Storms are wild and weird.

That night, I sat in my living room in the dark watching the fire trucks, ambulances, and helicopters come and go.

It felt like a war zone.

Sometimes life leaves us breathless for all the wrong reasons.

Situations and settings feel like a long, hard, unrelenting sucker punch to the gut.

I sat there alone on the couch trying to catch my breath, thinking about how life can change in an instant. We make our plans, but in the blink of an eye, storms come and everything can be turned upside down.

25 years ago today, I survived the storm.