Putting God On, One Leg At A Time

Are Mormons Christians

2011-12-12T00:18:00.000-08:00

It is a fact that if one claimed to be a Mormon but denied all the basic tenets of Mormonism — that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, that the Book of Mormon is true and divinely inspired, that god was once a man who progressed to godhood through keeping the laws and ordinances of the Mormon Church, and that the Mormon Church was divinely established — the Mormon Church would reject such a person’s claim to being a Latter-day Saint. One cannot fairly call oneself a Mormon if one does not believe the fundamental doctrines taught by the Mormon Church. By the same token, if the Mormon Church does not hold to even the basic biblical truths believed by the greater Christian community down through the ages, how can Christians reasonably be expected to accept Mormonism as authentic Christianity?

If the Mormon Church believes it is the only true Christian Church, it should not attempt to publicly present itself as a part of a broader Christian community. Instead it should tell the world openly that those who claim to be orthodox Christians are not really Christians at all, and that the Mormon Church is the only true Christian Church. This in fact is what it teaches privately, but not publicly.

Leave The Memories Alone

2010-06-13T23:48:00.001-07:00

"The seed dies into new life and so does man." George MacDonald

Did you ever hear about some seeds that are dormant for thousands of years and then they grow and come alive when exposed to water?

Every so often I'm in a quandary about resolving a perceived contradiction of faith. At first I'm afraid to discuss this with others, for fear of discouraging them and turning them away from God. Especially if they're a new believer or not the type to question anything. Will I come off as insecure in my faith or just be a real party pooper?

I'm now convinced that running to someone else for answers, is not always the best thing for me. Without fail, if I simply sit still, pray, read the Word and patiently wait for the answer, the Lord's helper guides me and brings the peace that surpasses all understanding. For a natural skeptic like me, a simple answer from someone else doesn't always sit as well with me as the serene response from the Holy Spirit that resides within.

The latest enigma had to do with memory loss. If one could lose their memory then memory must be something physical. If it's physical, that must mean when we die, we won't remember anything of this life. How good could Heaven be if I couldn't enjoy seeing those I knew and loved on earth? Then again, maybe that would be the best alternative if someone I loved didn't make it to Heaven.

"That same day the Sadducees, who say there is no resurrection, came to him with a question. "Teacher," they said, "Moses told us that if a man dies without having children, his brother must marry the widow and have children for him. Now there were seven brothers among us. The first one married and died, and since he had no children, he left his wife to his brother. The same thing happened to the second and third brother, right on down to the seventh. Finally, the woman died. Now then, at the resurrection, whose wife will she be of the seven, since all of them were married to her?"

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Jesus replied, "You are in error because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God. At the resurrection people will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven. But about the resurrection of the dead—have you not read what God said to you, 'I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.' He is not the God of the dead but of the living."

The other day my answer came from an unexpected direction, when I was studying the phenomenon of a dormant seed. It dawned on me that we are all like the seed in that we never really die. Yes we'll eventually lose this physical body and memory, but God has given us a glimpse of our future in eternity through the seed and the living water of Christ.

Our resurrected body and soul will be like a seed in suspended animation that is watered and blooms into a new body. We'll be cognizant of our former memories but we'll look at things from a new perspective on the other side.

"But someone may ask, "How are the dead raised? With what kind of body will they come?" How foolish! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. When you sow, you do not plant the body that will be, but just a seed, perhaps of wheat or of something else. But God gives it a body as he has determined, and to each kind of seed he gives its own body." 1 Corinthians 15:35-38

"O Lord, the hope of Israel, all who forsake you will be put to shame. Those who turn away from you will be written in the dust because they have forsaken the LORD, the spring of living water." Jeremiah 17:13

I smile when I think how God must get a kick out of me when I think I'm protecting him from others that may fall away when I think of a doubt that God won't be able to answer this time.

After Forever

2010-05-01T23:18:00.000-07:00

"The body of Benjamin Franklin, Printer, lies here, food for worms; but the work shall not be lost, for it will appear once more in a new and more elegant edition, revised and corrected by the Author." [self-written epitaph] Benjamin Franklin

Years ago a thought crossed my mind about death. I realized that our spirits are material in nature because when we're alive something is there and when we die it leaves. I remember hearing about scientific studies that determined our physical bodies lose weight at the moment we pass away.

That made perfect sense to me, so naturally I thought about how my spirit got inside this body to begin with. Common sense tells me if my spirit can leave the body, there must have been a point it entered, the same way.

I was a terrible Biology student in High School. Not because I wasn't interested. I have actually always been fascinated with the meaning of life. It was because I was never satisfied with just memorizing the physical functions and details of life to get a good grade.

I wanted to know why.

In my opinion, if you're willing to stop short of going beyond what you can see with one eyeball looking through a microscope, then it's all a waste of time ultimately. It's really quite shallow. It might help here on Earth while we're alive but in the end it's all meaningless.

The teacher would talk about millions of sperms swimming to find an egg. Instead of taking notes, I would then daydream about the sperm itself. It has a head and a tail to swim. I heard it doesn't have eyes or a nose, so it can't see or smell where it's going. Somehow it's programmed by someone for one purpose. No matter how you describe it, this little polliwog looking thing has intention. Does it have a soul?

For my poor Biology teacher's sake let's assume it doesn't and the egg doesn't either. At what point does the spirit and soul enter that growing organism in it's Mother's womb?

This is why I became a Born Again Christian.

Sure I had spiritual revelations, growing up as a kid but in our culture, I was taught not to trust those emotional feelings. I was supposed to just deal with the facts and believe in what could be proven. So actually I think I did exactly what was expected of me by society; I proved that the best that science had to offer could not answer the deeper questions in life.

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies John 11:25

Jesus showed us how we will be resurrected one day in new bodies with that same exact spirit that left our bodies at physical death. That actually makes more sense to me than, when we die our weighty material spirit ceases to exist and is annihilated into nothingness.

One thing I did learn in school was there is just as much inner space as outer space. You can never stop cutting a material thing in half to get nothing.

It's Like Me

2010-02-21T20:41:00.000-08:00

Every so often I get the opportunity to embrace what I like to call a God moment; a chance to love another person with empathy, compassion or just a friendly ear. The moment is rarely planned and I don't usually even know it, until it's passed. More times than not, I avoid the opportunity due to either selfish inconvenience, fear of rejection or just not trusting in the Spirit's promptings.

On this serendipitous occasion, one moment collided with another.

A few weeks ago, I was standing in line to buy some flowers for my wife on Valentine's Day; when I noticed Jerry, a guy I played football with in college. I'd seen him with his family and parents throughout the years in church and occasionally we greeted each other. Seeing him reminded me that I hadn't seen him in a few years but I sat near his parents almost every week in church.

In the last two years, I've watched Jerry's Father grow old; from apparent good health to a slight slouch, to walking with the help of a cane. A week before I had noticed his wife sitting alone and I assumed he was either bed-ridden or he had passed away. Not wanting to assume anything, I felt the urge to ask Jerry how his parents were doing. Should I do it? No, probably not. Look at him; he's talking to someone. I'd probably just be rudely interrupting or maybe he wouldn't even remember me. No, I'll just mind my own business and just move on. That's when the small voice inside said, "Tim, don't pass on this one."

"Hey Jerry; how's it going?" I said. "Oh hey!” He replied. Well, at least he remembered my face if not my name. 'Haven't seen you in a while, but I sit near your parents every week at church. How are they doing?" I queried; knowing full well the answer I might get. He smiled slightly and said, "Thanks for asking, but my father passed away a few weeks ago. The woman you saw with him is not my Mom, that's Margie." I said, "Ah Jerry I'm so sorry to hear that." Then he said, "My family goes to a smaller church now but Margie still continues to support Calvary. I feel sorry for her though because it's such a big church and I don't think that many people know that she's alone now. I'm buying her some flowers for Valentine's Day. Maybe the next time you see her at church, you could give her a hug and let her know you care." "Of course." I replied.

"Jerry, I didn't know your father, but I have to share with you a moment I had with him last Memorial Day in church." I had his attention. "Pastor Shawn had just asked everyone that had served in the U.S. Military to stand up, so that we could honor them. I knew your Father was sitting right behind me with Margie. As everyone started to applaud, I glanced behind me, expecting to see your Father standing but to my surprise, I saw Margie standing for him and I was touched. When the Pastor started to pray for our Veterans, without looking, I reached around behind me and gently placed my hand on his knee for the entire prayer."

Jerry's eyes started to well up with tears as I went on. I continued as my own eyes began to tear. "When the prayer was over, I turned to smile at your Father when I noticed tears were streaming down his face and he mouthed, "Thank You" with a smile." At that very moment a friend of Jerry's came up and was trying to get his attention while we smiled at each other with tears in our eyes. "Thanks for sharing that with me." he said as he tried to recover and acknowledge his friend. "Good seeing you Jerry." I said, as I too, sought composure when turning to leave.

I'm thankful to the Holy Spirit for encouraging me to be available. It's so not like me, left to my own devices. Many times I run away from the mirror of who I am in Christ and miss the blessing from moments like that Sunday morning with Mr. Mazza and then standing in line with his son.

Excuse me, while I go look for a certain woman to hug.

Amongst The Waves

2009-11-21T19:10:00.000-08:00

May your fountain be blessed, and may you rejoice in the wife of your youth. Proverbs 5:18

Dear Susanne,

Happy Birthday and Anniversary Honey! I wanted to let you know how much I love you and how I think you are the most amazing, beautiful and blessed wife a man could have. We've trusted in the Lord together for a long time now and he is blessing us in more ways than one.

It's hard to believe it's been twenty years of marriage already. You are my best friend and my love grows deeper for you each passing year. Thank you for believing in me and supporting me in my career. You are the reason I strive to succeed and your encouragement always inspires me to improve and your faith in God assures me that you were truly a gift from Heaven.

Love Always,

Tim

You're Everywhere

2009-11-04T23:20:00.000-08:00

Dave said, "I hate religion." I answered, "So do I Dave, so do I. Religion is man-made"

For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse. Romans 1:20

Many of us have heard the question before. "What about the person in some remote tribe in a far corner of the world that was never exposed to Jesus? How can they be accountable?" It's a good question. I can usually tell the difference between someone who really wants to know the answer and someone that's just trying to stump you, to "show up" your faith's credibility.
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A Believer in my Bible study told us he didn't know how to respond to a friend, when asked this question. It's amazing how the Holy Spirit revealed the answer to me, so quickly, with a new perspective. I asked each person in my group to share when they first accepted Christ as their Savior. As we went around the circle, I heard about conversions that happened recently, to being raised in Christian families from birth. A simple response from me would've been when I was going through a divorce back in the eighties, but as I inventoried my spiritual experiences growing up, I realized I was being saved all along. I just didn't acknowledge it until I matched the longing of my soul to the acceptance of the grace that was afforded me in Christ's death and resurrection.

I don't see any difference between the Tim baptized in the Catholic Church as a baby, schooled in Catechism for years, sitting in a pew every Sunday, waiting for the priest to say the line that told me I had five more minutes to eminent freedom and the kid in Timbuktu with the mom that has a huge disk in her bottom lip and the witch doctor dad that's never heard about Jesus from any missionary. None of the Church buildings, statues, candles, repetitive memorized prayers, Sunday schools, confessionals or traditions ever saved anyone.
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"The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children." Romans 8:16

It wasn't until a YMCA counselor took us on a hike during summer camp, when I was ten years old that I had my first experience with God and his creation, nature. It was the first time I ever prayed in a freeform, conversational style and it touched me deeply. I knew right then that I believed and accepted God, even though no one led me or asked me to repeat after them.

On that mountain top surrounded by the Lord's beautiful masterpiece I was forgiven and destined to put that passion into words many years and failures later.

You're Everywhere.

Sweet November

2009-10-15T00:05:00.000-07:00

I had one of the most wonderful experiences this morning, waking up from a dream. I smelled the sweet fragrance of my Mother. There isn't a greater comfort in this life than to sense the presence of your first love. It's unmistakable and nothing compares to the soothing, warm feeling that fills your soul with the natural scent of the woman that bore you and gave you life so many years ago.

“For God may speak in one way or in another, Yet man does not perceive it. In a dream in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls upon men, While slumbering on their beds, Then He opens the ears of men, and seals their instruction. In order to turn man from his deeds, and conceal pride from man, He keeps back His soul from the Pit, and his life from perishing by the sword.” Job 33: 14-18

As dreams would go, I was supposed to go visit my Mother in the hospital because she was just in an accident. I wasn't rushing to get to the hospital and I had a calm spirit about the situation with no sense of urgency. I can even remember asking myself why it wasn't necessary to hurry and then it hit me; Mom died almost two years ago from cancer. This will be wonderful seeing her again. You know how dreams are, they don't have to make sense.

As I walked in, there she was, lying on her side in the hospital bed. She had her regular clothes on with no sheets covering her. She was relaxed and smiling as usual with no apparent injuries. When I approached her, I felt for some reason, maybe because I knew that she had already died, that I couldn't hug her upper half. I reached for her legs to hug instead. At that moment she intercepted the intention and reached for me, whispered "I love you" and pulled me into her. Just then I flew out of sleep, opened my eyes and the first time I inhaled, I smelled her beautiful touch. I can't tell you enough, how real it was. It was so exhilarating, that I shouted for my wife in my excitement.

I thank God for allowing me to experience that dream. In his love he allowed the oldest memory I have to comfort me with love.

Thank you Lord.

Lonely People

2009-06-10T01:31:00.000-07:00

Posted by Blonde_Dancer on June 8, 2009 at 6:50 a.m.

These are a loving, compassionate people? Not! If you don't believe in JC, they tell you will burn in hell.

Posted by ahern1 on June 8, 2009 at 10:53 a.m.

Hi Blonde_Dancer,

If there is a fork in the road and a flash flood has washed out one of the roads and a friend of mine, that I love and trust, warns me that if we take the road on the left, we will drive off a cliff into the abyss, why am I unloving by warning you?

We are all our Creator's children and as a child of God, I love you. If I believe this in my heart, it would be hypocritical of me to say that and turn around and withhold valuable information that could save you, because I'm afraid you might attack me or criticize me for saying there is only one choice that will save us.

The bottom line is my friend is either right or wrong, but he can't be both. From my past experience, it's not his nature. Either way, if I'm wrong and it's all a big lie, I did the best I could with the faith I was given.

If we knew it for a fact, there would be no faith and faith has to be a large part of Love.

Love,
Tim

Light Years

2009-05-10T21:59:00.000-07:00

Her actions spoke louder than her words. Mom's love was never conditional. It was as enevitable as the sun rising in the morning and we never thought of a Mother's Day without her. Her grandchildren will reflect her love for generations to come as each one of us has passed down that smile that says, "I love you more than life itself."

I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life. ~Abraham Lincoln

Drive

2009-04-23T21:32:00.000-07:00

In one of the most highly anticipated events of 1974, I longed for Mr. Gilmore's Driver's training class at Newbury Park High School. When the first day finally came we went in the back parking lot, inside a long old trailer with well worn driving simulators . I must say, those producers had a sense of humor that put those driving films together. I had visuals for years of kids darting into the street after a ball or a truck with chicken coops making a last second left in front of my speeding simulator. No matter how hard I tried, I could never drive safe enough to avoid some kind of mishap on that screen. I think I finally gave up and started accelerating into hazards and swerved into surprises instead of avoiding them. I was curious to see if I could make some chicken feathers fly.

Just when that got old, Mr. Gilmore announced we would start going out in a real car, with groups of four. With two girls and another guy, the first day of driving was somewhat uneventful until this guy, Richard "what's his name" got a turn. The two other girls and I would hold our breath as he tried to parallel park without scraping up against a parked car's bumper. He also liked to talk and that would be one thing but Richard had this scary habit of feeling like he had to look at the person he was talking to, while driving. The worst part was Mr. Gilmore was unfazed by all of his bad driving habits and appeared to ignore a lot of these driving indiscretions until the final day.

Probably to mask our fears, the girls and I would joke around and giggle at Richard's non-stop, Mr. Magoo like mannerisms. For the final test, Mr. Gilmore took us over the winding, narrow Potrero Road to the old Camarillo State Mental Hospital on the other side of the grade. Richard was driving as we went through hairpin after tight hairpin turn. Sitting on the side closest to the high cliffs, I noticed how the car drifted closer and closer to the edge with every turn. Just when I was about to scream at the top of my lungs, Mr. Gilmore finally commented in a calm soothing voice, "Richard, you might want to move closer to the center of the road." "Might?" I thought, as I could hear the sound of tires running through gravel on the shoulder of the road. When I looked out the window, I could no longer see road beneath us.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.

Proverbs 3:5-6

Many of us get anxiety when we're not in control. We understand that to let someone else drive means letting go and placing our lives in their hands can be very unsettling at best. When my wife and I were first married, I noticed that she had a recurring nightmare, where she witnessed an airliner crash. She would also never sleep while I was driving on a long trip. After talking about it with her, it was apparent these occurrences had something to do with control and flying on an airliner meant you had no influence on whether the plane crashed or not. If she fell asleep while I was driving, I might get into an accident, if she wasn't there to warn me.

Noticing those control issues with her allowed me to question my own ways of self determination and how I sometimes fool myself with God. On one hand I say with my lips that I trust him, but as a businessman, I can find it hard to practice what I preach at times. I'm not unethical, I just feel like I have to drive in some situations, because the Lord might crash without my help.

"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to cast off his trust in riches." John Wesley

God has never failed me and even when it appears I've failed, there is always a lesson to be learned or another blessing around the corner when I wait on him and let him Drive.

Love Hurts

2009-04-10T14:39:00.000-07:00

lim·er·ence / ˈlimərəns/ • n. Psychol. the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically involuntary, and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one's feelings but not primarily for a sexual relationship. A remarkable ability to emphasize what is truly admirable in the limerent object and to avoid dwelling on the negative or render it into another positive attribute.
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Today I learned a new word for an old feeling. If you were to ask me for a definition of that feeling in 9th grade, I would've called it love. I fell for Debbie Wright in Mrs. Dennis' first period Sociology class. I couldn't help but daydream about what it would be like to be her boyfriend. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous but she seemed to possess a demure and reserved quality that I always found attractive in a girl. The bonus was that she was within my tolerance, being an inch taller than me at 5'-0".

I seized my first opportunity to reveal my undying love for her by way of a school wide delivery of telegrams and roses on Secret Admirer Day. I tried to think of some witty zinger that would sweep her off her feet. Something like, "Are you tired? Because you’ve been running around in my mind all day!" but no, that was too corny. I thought about, "Here I am! What were your other two wishes?" Nah! Too presumptuous. I finally decided on what I thought would be the perfect understated "come on" of the century, "Love, Your Secret Admirer".

I was ready for the big morning of deliveries. Afterward, I envisioned us strolling out of class, hand in hand, carrying her books back to her locker and then "making out" until the tardy bell rang. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she received her rose with the most excellent note. It was perfect! She had a huge bright smile as she glanced around the room. I averted her eyes as they looked my way. I was going to play this out to really make an impression. Just then a few of her girlfriends excitedly giggled with her. "Ahh! That's so sweet! Who's it from?" They asked. "I don't know." I heard her answer. Her girlfriends started guessing names and Tim Ahern never came up. Oh no! How could I have been so stupid? I didn't even sign my name.

A few days later, she found out because I let her girlfriends know but the special moment was gone. She politely smiled and said, "thank you" and that was that. No hugs, no hand holding or making out, just thank you. I didn't even become a "Just Friends". The pain and heartache was lessened when I found out she already had a crush on one of the football players. At least she wasn't available and didn't flat out reject me. Small, forgive the pun, consolation.

On one occasion Jesus was asked what commandment was the most important. "The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these." Mark 12:29-31

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I don't want to slam on the limerence of youth and their confusion with interpreting true love. God created infatuations to get us to the dance but some of us got hooked on the ride instead of the destination. It's no wonder I spent my high school years and early twenties searching for an ideal no one could ultimately fulfill. I got high on the falling in love with my "perfect woman". I always wanted what I couldn't have and ran away when I found out they weren't so flawless. Through my own insecurities, I wasted much of my youth chasing an elusive dream that never existed in the first place. Like a mirage, the perfect woman wouldn't be so perfect once she said yes to me anyways.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Always perseveres.

That's the kicker isn't it? At one time or another, you can do most of those attributes fairly well. You can even flub up on some of them from time to time and still be in love. With perseverance though, you either do it or you don't. That virtuous quality rejects quitters and spits out the lukewarm feelings of the "wannabes."

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16

I wasn't able to truly love my wife until I understood what Jesus Christ did for us on the cross. Our love has grown deeper through the years as we face life's challenges. Knowing God will never quit on us, how could we quit on him?

Now, my love never hurts.

Innocent

2009-03-22T20:27:00.000-07:00

"How many observe Christ's birthday! How few, His precepts!" Benjamin Franklin

Do you remember the day when you realized there wasn't really a Santa Claus? Being the oldest of four children and probably hoping it was true, I was probably a little older and more naive than most when it appeared the rumors were true. Although I enjoyed the years of belief in Old Saint Nick, I’ve got to admit there were some gnawing doubts mounting as my cognitive abilities reared their burgeoning heads.

For example, that whole God like omniscient thing where, “He knows if you are sleeping and he knows if you’re awake”. Just knowing that verse alone, could be a little unnerving at best for an excited child, when trying to get some sleep on Christmas Eve. How about the, “He knows if you’ve been bad or good. So be good for goodness sake” line? I mean, come on! I was just getting used to the whole idea of the Catholic confessional in the dark room thingy and then they go and throw in another guy I have to pray to for sanctification. Please.

Then the elf thing was also a little freaky. I mean how did those little people get a gig like that? Was it like a Mormon mission trip where the elf parents sent their young elfs on a two year stint to the North Pole? You also never saw female or minority elfs. On second thought, now that I think about it, those elf civil rights protests probably didn’t materialize for a few more years, like here.

Meanwhile, my Mom is interrupting my daydream by yelling at me to put my bike away. She said, "You should appreciate what your father and I bought you." What? I said to myself as I picked up the bike. Santa got me this bike. I didn't say anything, I just pondered the epiphany.

As young Christian parents, Susanne and I struggled with the whole idea of combining the myth of Santa Claus and the reality of Jesus Christ with our young children. Both of us loved the innocence of children and the endless faith they displayed and we didn't want them to wonder if all of the sudden their understanding of God the Father was the next belief to disappear with maturity.

“She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." Matthew 1:21

Because God loves us, he wants to protect us from anything that would separate our childlike faith from him. While the world and the enemy dilutes, distracts and confuses us as we get older, our original childlike love for God can still be found under the layers.

My family and I were never really psychologically messed up because there was never anything of substance under all of the myths and make believe to begin with. Children really do know the difference. When we return to our original love, our Creator, and place our trust in Jesus Christ alone, we are forgiven.

We are Innocent.

If Everyone Cared

2009-03-22T17:36:00.000-07:00

It’s not surprising that a small set of plastic army men and a G.I. Joe “Action Figure” had their share of my toy chest real estate in 1965. I guess the toy manufacturer’s marketing team at Hasbro was smart in tagging Joe as such, because I couldn’t imagine any boy’s parent buying him a toy labeled with an effeminate connotation like “Action Doll” in those days.

The first time I witnessed an emotional reaction to the horrors of war outside of the glorified and idealized version depicted on television shows like “Combat”, was an ephemeral incident with my Mom. For my birthday, a relative had given me a bag full of small dark green plastic army men. There must have been at least 50 of these one inch high infantrymen in various combat positions with their guns aimed at an imaginary enemy.

I was excited to tear open the bag and see how many different characters there were and I had just started placing them in battle positions on my bedroom floor, when Mom walked in. After watching me for a moment, she said, “Timmy, I want you to throw away all of those deformed army men missing arms and legs.” As with any quantity of small plastic molds, every so often you’d get a piece that came out incomplete. “Why” I asked. It seemed like no big deal to me and besides, I remember thinking it was kind of cool to use some of those figures to add more realism to the battle scene. She said, “Just do as I say.” Then she abruptly walked out. Her firm, brief and succinct emotional moment has not been lost on me ever since.

As with scary movies, I thought war movies were entertainment only. I didn’t think anyone with common sense would expect to have the realities of war hit so close to home, any more than they could expect one of Boris Karloff’s characters to be waiting for them in the closet when they got back from the theater. I knew war really happened but its realities belonged to another place and time, not the here and now.

Up till then the Vietnam War did not grab the headlines like it would for the next decade. It wasn’t until our young American boys returned home in wheel chairs and coffins by the thousands, that a majority of the public stood up and took notice.

If I had been 18 in 1965, through peer pressure, I probably would have dutifully responded to the draft. In 1968, I’m not so sure, but today, knowing what I know now with my faith in God I would give my life for my country if called upon. These days the only aspect of war to give me pause is the ability to watch my children face those same choices.

“For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does.” 2 Corinthians 10:3

I had an experience years ago when my children were young that struck me. As a family we went to see the Vietnam Memorial when it was in town and of course it was very touching and emotional. I remember seeing some Veterans, standing by the wall in their old beat up uniforms, talking to people. I went up and thanked one of them and recalled my overwhelming sense of gratitude for their sacrifice.

Then unexpectedly I came upon a soldier's name on the wall that had a small newspaper clipping attached along the side. It was from a local Burbank paper in 1965 and it was a typical obituary kind of article that mourned the loss of a couple's son. It stated he was 18 years old when he died.

Again, he was only 18.

At that moment, I remember feeling gut wrenching pain. It hit me like a mack truck. It wasn't that he died. Oh sure that was sad, but that is what happens in war and this young man died honorably, defending democracy and stopping the spread of Communism. If I had my choice of the way I would go, I can't think of any other way.

No, the part that submarined me was the obituary, listing the names of his parents. Now that I was a parent, that truly broke my heart. Tears welled up in my eyes as I imagined that poor couple hearing the news, that their son had been killed. I wondered if they were still alive today. I would wager that if you mentioned it to them 43 years later, the emotions would race to the surface as fast as if it happened yesterday.

Until I was a parent, I don't think I could've ever appreciated how they must have felt. I take comfort in knowing my wife and I have done the best we could as parents. I have led my children spiritually and I know we will all be together in Heaven someday. I guess I'm selfish though, wanting to be the one waiting for them in Paradise, instead of the alternative.

“They will make war against the Lamb, but the Lamb will overcome them because he is Lord of lords and King of kings - and with him will be his called, chosen and faithful followers." Revelations 17:14

Run

2009-03-21T21:48:00.001-07:00

Olly Olly Oxen Free: A catchphrase used in the children's game of Hide-and-Go-Seek to indicate that players who are hiding can come out into the open without losing the game.

Moving from Sylmar in the San Fernando Valley to Simi in the summer of 1965 was pretty exciting. Simi was a boom town for developers building new tract homes and many young families with children were migrating west to buy their first homes. You can imagine how thrilled I was to be around the older kids on El Monte Drive. Being the oldest child of a Mother that was herself the oldest, meant all my siblings and cousins were younger than me.

Games and sayings on the street were accepted at face value if you wanted to hang with the elder kids on the block. There was no silly questions from the peanut gallery like, "Who thought of that game?" or "Where did that expression come from?" You just shut up and did what they said, or else. Don't ask me what "or else" was. It was just implied and I was too afraid to go there.

A game I enjoyed and was good at, was Hide-and-Go-Seek. Summer nights seemed to be the best time to play with more dark areas and shadows to hide in. The leaders would set the boundaries and off we'd run to our hiding places. I was always good at hiding because I tried to be creative and think out of the box for locations. Knowing your neighbors helped too, because if you picked the house with the barking German Shepard, that was a dead give away.

Before now, I never understood the saying about how your strengths can be your weaknesses at the same time. The creativity that has enabled me to excel at some things has also helped me avoid the truth about myself and my relationship with God. It's almost as if I don't think about him then I'm not accountable for my selfish motives. In a game of spiritual Hide-and-Go-Seek, I get creative about the places I can run to and think he can't see me.

If you're a fellow believer, you'll know what I'm talking about. Sometimes I lose sight of the relationship with the Lord that I have. I forget about the initial joy and excitement that I experienced in becoming a Born Again Believer. Jesus is always there for me, even though I'm not always there for Him. There are times, I'm either spiritually lazy or I care more about what the world thinks is more important. I run away and hide when I don't want to be accountable for my thoughts or actions.

Woe to those who go to great depths to hide their plans from the LORD, who do their work in darkness and think, "Who sees us? Who will know?" Isaiah 29:15

Father, may I always remember you're always a prayer away and that you love me and gave your Son to die on a cross for me, so that we could have a relationship.

I'm already forgiven, there's no reason to Run.

Falling Down

2009-03-19T22:27:00.000-07:00

Then Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: "This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against." Luke 2:34

It started out innocent enough with Dave Badoub. Dave was one of those guys that was always goofing around. I don't think I ever saw him without a grin plastered on his face from ear to ear. Scott Stearns and I would always egg him on before class and get him to blurt out some really off the wall comments that would keep Scott and I in stitches.

As with any subtle addiction at seventeen, you had to keep "upping the ante" when it comes to humor and excitement. So to keep it fresh, Scott or I would always try to "one up" each other when it came to creative ideas to keep us laughing at Dave's expense. As hard as we tried, we could never hurt Dave's feelings. Every time we tried to insult him, he would laugh in our faces.

One day we were all standing by the balcony railing in front of our class on the second floor of the school. While pushing Dave back and forth, I got this bright idea. "Hey Scott. Why don't we hang Badoub over the railing by his ankles?" "Hey yeah" said Scott. "That sounds like a great idea." Of course Dave started giggling and said, "Oh yeah, right! Like you'd really do that." So in one fell swoop, Scott and I each grabbed an ankle and flung Dave over the railing. His laughs quickly turned into screams as we shook him up and down in unison. I could hear some guys in the hallways laughing and some girls gasping in shock. Just then I looked up and saw the horrified face of Mr. Muttolo on the bridge from the other building.

After the initial, "Hey!" I could tell Mr. Muttolo wanted to scream at us in anger but restrained himself for fear we'd drop Dave if he scared us. So he walks very quickly across the bridge in our direction making gentle hand motions to pull him up while mouthing "Stop". Believe it or not, Badoub was actually laughing while we pulled him up with his beet red face. It would be an understatement to say we got in trouble. The only mitigating circumstance was that I had never been in trouble before. I got off easy, picking up trash at lunch time for a week.

What troubles me today as a parent are the choices my children will make, put in the same situation as I was. My better judgment was clouded and I was obviously not thinking straight as I foolishly risked another person's life for the sake of coolness. If Dave had fallen to a paralyzing injury or death, in addition to scarring my future, I would have sentenced my friend Scott to a lifetime of nightmares.

Sin can be very insidious and sneak up on us when we least expect it. That incident started off with no intention of committing a crime or violence against Dave. The choice was made in a split second and I seriously doubt I would have made it in any other context. For example greed, lust and envy don't usually come at us with horns, pitchfork and tail. In the beginning we can see them as our career, love and ambition. If we don't have a mark to shoot for in eternity, these virtues can turn into addictions that can never be ultimately satiated without God.

"To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy." Jude 1:24

Through his death on a cross and his resurrection from death, Jesus Christ made a way for us to overcome evil and enter Heaven for eternity. Your salvation has nothing to do with your performance or what a good person you are. You and I are all perfect sinners and our faith in Jesus alone will forgive us for our poor decisions and give us the Holy Spirit to guide us in our future ones until we leave this world.

We all fall down. My prayer for my children is that they have the faith to rise again.

Burning Down The House

2009-03-17T19:14:00.000-07:00

"Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?" Hebrews 1:14

It was late morning on my summer vacation and my Mom was calling home from her office. "Hi Mom."

"Hi honey. Can you do me a favor and pick up Letty from her dance class, down at Dover and Hendrix Park?" Mom asked. I said, "Sure, no problem." I had just pulled out the last batch of beer battered onion rings, I was frying on the stove.

Having enough credits to graduate and running out of fun electives to take in my senior year, I thought it would be a kick to take Home Economics. I tried out my beer battered onion rings on the family a few nights prior and they were a hit. Everyone loved them. I decided to make some for myself that morning because the rings where such a hit the other night and there weren't many left for me , once I finished cooking for everyone else.

Driving home with Letty, I was stunned when we turned on to our street and I saw the pillar of thick black smoke billowing out of the kitchen roof of our house. At 17 with a few emergency experiences under my belt, I wasn't surprised by my reaction to a make or break moment. Some people panic and make hasty poor decisions or freeze and make no moves at all from the shock. Others like me "get low" when in crises mode. We tend to go in the opposite direction of the perceived exigency by becoming very mellow, very focused and totally fearless. The old saying, "My life flashed before my eyes" makes more sense to this type of person when time seems to play out like a slow motion replay on football Sunday.
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Some wiser people than me would say my subsequent actions were hasty poor decisions when it came to my life versus a replaceable home but to be tagged for the rest of my life as the one that fried our house down, that was more than I was willing to bear.

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As we came down the long driveway I said to my sister, "Letty as fast as you can, sprint into the guest house and call 911 and then call Mom." Remembering a Fire Marshall's instructions from my elementary days about smoke characteristics, I hit the floor as soon as I came through the back kitchen door. Two feet up from the floor there was a smoke free zone that allowed me to shimmy on my belly across the kitchen floor to the stove area. I could see flashes of huge flames wicking up through the smoke above the stove cabinet. I swung open the cabinet and grabbed the largest pot I could find and slid over to the sink area as fast as I could. Pausing for a split second that seemed like an eternity, I gathered my thoughts and then took in as much oxygen as I could before leaping to my feet, turning on the faucet full blast and flinging the water towards the wood cabinets above the stove in what seemed like one single motion. I kept this up for as long as my lungs would hold out, and then hit the deck again for air before returning to the fight.
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The next thing I knew I was laying on the back lawn gasping for air as my tearful sister consoled me. I now heard the siren's wail increase as the Fire Department's engines roared into our driveway. As I recovered on my own I'll never forget the Captain's face as he informed us that in his 20 years with the department, he had never seen anything like what he witnessed in that kitchen. He said, "As a precaution we tore a hole in the roof and doused the attic above the kitchen and blasted the cabinets from below, but we never once saw a flame even though the fire had burned through the cabinets and had apparently just entered the attic space from the appearance of the charred rafters. A few seconds more and this entire house would've been engulfed in flames once it entered that attic space." Just then our Mom came running up to us crying and hugged us very tightly as she made sure we weren't injured.

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As the firemen mopped up and placed huge fans throughout the house, I could overhear the Captain helping my cause of redemption by telling Mom, "Your son single-handedly with a pot, put out a grease fire that normally takes a team of firefighters to extinguish, only if they happen to be there when the fire starts! He saved this house."

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During an obligatory small lecture from the Captain about the value of my life outweighing that old structure, I could still see a slight smile and twinkle in his eye that conveyed, "Job well done." So I guess as far as my parents were concerned, going from dog house to hero, it was kind of a wash, because it was never talked about again. From then on the only feedback I ever got was a chuckle and a look, whenever onion rings were ever mentioned.

That I could handle.

I thank the Lord that my guardian angels were with me in Hell's Kitchen that day. I didn't deserve help and I certainly didn't earn the protection by my faith. It was only through God's grace and mercy that I can even sit here today and type about this miracle in my life before I became a "sold out" for Jesus believer. I guess he always knew I'd eventually come around with a few extra chances.

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On Second thought, make that a lot of chances.

I Got A Name

2009-03-16T16:59:00.001-07:00

Memorials have always moved me. Something in the human condition connects my mortality and the desire to leave a legacy. Maybe subconsciously I look at a plaque and would like to imagine my own name inscribed there for perpetuity.

To know I loved and was loved in return, feels like one of the ultimate honors in this life. I take for granted the myriad of motivations that are birthed from that singular drive to leave my mark.

In 1975 Mr. Barker's third period Architecture class at Newbury Park High School filled my bucket. I couldn't wait to get there and I couldn't stand to leave. I looked up to Norm Barker and admired everything he did in class. His lettering was brilliant and to this day, I'm still trying to emulate him. I've never been completely satisfied with my style and you'd be amazed how many times I'll erase and rewrite a simple word to find my style for that day.

Mr. Barker was meticulously precise but with a good sense of humor. You could tell by the friendly banter and rapport the older students had with him that he was well liked. He was also very popular with any car enthusiast. He was known for spending many after school hours with a group of guys that always had nice cars, painting and fixing up their Hot Rods. As hard as I tried to impress him, I never felt like he really ever accepted me as one of his friends. He wasn't hard on me, by any means. In fact I became his teachers aid in my senior year when there were no more courses available to take after acing them all.

I could tell by the way he explained our new project for the spring semester that this was something near and dear to him. He told us for a long time the school had set aside funds for a marquee billboard in front of the school. He also mentioned some funds available to erect a memorial for the students and teachers that had died while attending our school.

Immediately Dennis Anderson and Bob Gallagher came to mind. As a freshman two years earlier I grieved with the rest of the student body when a tragedy struck so close to home. Seniors, Dennis and Bob were involved in a fatal car accident in the fall of '72. The poem below was written by their close friend.

Go now, to seek beyond our life

For life is just a moment, a step

A step from provisional, to eternal

As in the death of a child, the adolescent is born

From the caterpillar emerges a butterfly

From the grain, the full blown sheath

Go now, to enter the house of God
John Pagano

Mr. Barker choked up when he told us about Dennis and Bob's parents and how they originally set up a scholarship fund in memory of their sons but now wanted to have a memorial built for not only their sons but for anyone who had passed on, from our school. Mr. Barker then went on to say we should all submit designs that would combine the marquee with the memorial. I was all in. Wouldn't that be something to have my design win the competition and actually be the only one alive to see his name on a bronze plaque as the designer?

Mr. Barker came back to us after reviewing our submittals with the faculty and told us that they liked my design the best. Before I could get too excited he continued by saying, "I want to make sure, so I'm going to show the parents of Dennis and Bob to get their opinions." When we arrived in class a few days later, I was honored by the announcement that the parents concurred with the faculty and were touched by my design. Just as my sense of accomplishment was setting in Norm Barker burst my bubble. "I want Charles, Lee and Greg to help Tim refine his design and prepare plans for construction." My heart broke. I was devastated. How could Mr. Barker do that to me?

In one of the greatest displays of humility and compassion; I'll never forget what Charles Britton did for me. After conversing with Lee and Greg, Charles walked right up in front of the whole class and told Mr. Barker, "Mr. Barker, we don't feel right doing anything to alter Tim's design and we think Tim should be the only designer on this project." Norm looked at Charles for a moment and then at both Lee and Greg nodding their heads in agreement. "Alright then Tim, this will be your design. You're on your own."

I guess Norm got the last word at the opening ceremony when he mounted a bronze plaque on the completed project that read, "Designed and Built by the Architecture Class of 1975. N.T. Barker, Instructor".

Today my hope is in you Lord and not in a bronze plaque. My legacy will be my children and grandchildren that love and follow you for the rest of their lives. Thank you for loving me.

In America

2009-03-14T10:34:00.000-07:00

Roe v. Wade, (1973), is a United States Supreme Court case that resulted in a landmark decision regarding abortion. According to the Roe decision, most laws against abortion in the United States violated a constitutional right to privacy under the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. The decision overturned all state and federal laws outlawing or restricting abortion that were inconsistent with its holdings. Roe v. Wade is one of the most controversial and politically significant cases in U.S. Supreme Court history.

This photo is more profound than it looks at first glance.

Both sides can claim some truth in that statement. Who could deny that God gave us free will and we can choose what happens to our bodies? While at the same time, who can play God and determine when innocent life starts and stops?

As a child of the sixties, that grew into the teen angst of the seventies, I was enamored with the idealism that raged against the machine of establishment and status quo. I was proud to be part of a generation that wasn't afraid to question authority and ask why.

Ever since I could remember, I wanted to know how things worked. Bored with a toy that lost it's novelty and luster, it wasn't long before I dismantled it, to see how it ticked. I was notorious for taking things apart and never putting them back together when they no longer served a purpose. You'd think I would be a terrible contractor as an adult but I'm convinced that to build something well, you can't just follow the directions on face value. You have to know why things work the way they do. You need to see the inner workings in your "minds eye" to truly grasp the final product's value and appreciate the quality from within.

As a teenager in high school it was a natural progression for me to move from the mechanics of material objects to the mechanics of ideas, beliefs and laws. Was an idea colored by what "they" say or was it a creative "out of the box" thought? Why do you believe that? Because your parents do, or did you research other faiths and found this one made sense? Why was that behavior against the law? Was the law oppressive to rule and obtain more power over the masses or was it enacted to ultimately protect you?

There was nothing more endearing than a good debate and the advent of the seventies would not disappoint. Many rights we take for granted today were born of those arguments four decades ago. I can't imagine our society today without the civil rights given to women and minorities that came out of the truths that both sides of the aisle possessed.

In high school I remember being an advocate for an 18 year old's right to vote. How could society draft an 18 year old and ask them to give their life for the country and then turn around and tell them what they thought and believed didn't matter until they were 21? Eventually the progressives and I would part ways on the issue of abortion because I realized their idealism stopped short of the hardest question of all?

Do you believe in God?

It wasn't long before my generation was guilty of the same herd mentality of its ancestors. It was fine to ask questions when we weren't in the drivers seat, vying for the top, but once we were old enough to run things our way, all of the sudden us "meaning of life" seekers were marginalized, chastised, made fun of and labeled narrow minded for questioning the emerging culture and not equivocating or compromising Biblical truth. Let's face it, one of the most important things in life is what we believe will happen to us when we die.

Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." John 14:6

Even as a 14 year old I realized when a person died, their spirit left the body. Common sense told me that our spirits must be material. Just because I can't see spirit doesn't mean it ceases to exist. I can't see air or electricity either but I know they are physical in nature. So if we all agree that this spirit material leaves the body at death, how and when does it arrive? A spirit can't come from within the mother or father and it's not something that evolves or grows along with the fetus in the womb. If a soul is something that can leave at a definite point in death, it has to arrive at a definite point for life.

"Your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." Psalm 139:16

It gives me pause that In America any right would come before this miracle?

Ride Captain Ride

2009-03-08T14:20:00.000-07:00

My Dad asked, "Boys, are you ready for our next conquest?" Rolling our eyes, Terry and I looked at each other like "Oh no, what's Dad into now?"

The spring of 1974 saw the Mother of all bike rides when Dad planned a trip from San Francisco to Los Angeles. You'd think it was all downhill going North to South, but I can assure you it wasn't. In a grueling six day trek with my brother, Dad and Uncle, we journeyed through fog, rain, heat and freeze to accomplish the heady goal set before us. The highlight of our trip was the third day when we surpassed the elusive "Century". At that time a hundred miles in one day was a lofty ideal set aside for only the most serious of cyclists.

The first two days of the trip were somewhat uneventful if you don't count Terry's traffic stopping flip over the handle bars when he slammed on his front brakes. When I saw that he was alright, I teased him about getting style points from the judges for a beautifully executed "Sukahara" in the pike position dive. Dad chimed in, "Just do it over a pool next time."

The 100 mile segment started in Monterey and would end in Cambria, just outside of San Simeon and the Hearst Castle. Early that morning heading into Big Sur, my hands began to freeze around the handle bars. It was the first time I remember my fingers turning a shade of purple, while my eyes were peeled on Uncle Dan's back tire, cutting through the "tule" fog.

Just as we left Big Sur, the sun started to dry out our fog misted attire and I thought the worst was behind us until we faced the Santa Lucia Mountain Range along the coast. You know the grade is steep when you have to leave your bike seat and stand on the pedal in the lowest gear you have, to travel at a speed slower than walking. This went on for hours until we finally came down into the flat coastal lowlands outside of San Simeon.

Terry and I knew this leg of the trip was longer than most but I think our Dad purposely didn't tell us that we were going for a hundred miles that day. Psychologically, probably a good call. Dad said, "Hey guys, if we just go a few more miles, we will have ridden a century. What do you say we gor for it?" I knew we were staying in San Simeon and you can imagine my momentary disappointment when we were asked to go another 15 miles past my hot shower and cold drink to Cambria.

Although it would be years before I would join my Dad again in his passion for fitness, I'm glad he pushed us beyond what we thought we were capable of doing. It was a valuable lesson of exceeding the self imposed limits we place on ourselves and it taught me to stick to a goal and see it out to the end. Later that night in the hotel room relaxing with my cold drink, watching the Dodgers and Braves, I felt a bond of accomplishment with Hank Aaron as he touched all four in surpassing Babe Ruth in career home runs.

Dad was the first Humanist I ever loved.

The captain of his own ship, Dad always seemed to be searching for some truth the American mainstream somehow overlooked. Have you ever known someone who enjoyed finding a new artist, song or a good book before it became popular? They pride themselves on introducing you to a new concept or thing, versus you bringing it to them. After years of various New Age authors, Krishnamurti and other eastern philosophers frequenting his bookshelves, I've often wondered if he had been born in India with his personality, would he end up becoming a Christian just to be different.

"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field." Matthew 13:44

Now in his seventies, Dad is more open to discussing faith and belief in God. My prayers have been and always will be that he buys that field with the treasure of the Gospel buried in it.

It just needs to be his idea and not mine.

Another Day in Paradise

2009-03-02T00:53:00.001-08:00

"Chiclets?" She whispered as I swung around on the Tijuana sidewalk to see the offer in the Summer of '72. Grinning at the colorful gum packages, I suddenly jolted back with alarm when I saw the oozing puss coming from her melancholy eyes. She was an emaciated young Mexican girl around 13 years old wearing a soiled party dress, that when new, must have been all the rage 20 years earlier. A little taller than me, but what girl wasn't at that age, she stood there before me with long, straggly ebony hair and gnarled teeth. You could see some beauty underneath with a little imagination. One of those makeover shows could have had a field day with this "Diamond in the rough".

"One quarter" she said, as she motioned the gum towards me again. After an unusual moment of mouth open shock, I stuttered, "Gra... Gracias." I reached in my pocket for a dollar bill and handed it to her. She went for change and I said, "No, No" and I just walked away without the gum. She ran up alongside me and tugged on my shirt. "Esta bien ... It's OK, I don't want it" I said. She gave me a look like I had a "screw loose" as I walked away with my teary eyes.

What was supposed to be an inexpensive vacation with my family to San Diego was actually my first exposure to poverty across the border in Mexico. My Southern California womb had insulated me from the "haves" and the truly "have nots" of humanity. For the rest of the trip, all I could see were the young and old faces of pain that begged for relief. Staring out the car window, while waiting to come back across the border was the first time I fantasized about being a billionaire that passed out hundred dollar bills to every child that had the look of that poor Chiclet girl with the oozing eyes.

"All these I have kept since I was a boy," he said. When Jesus heard this, he said to him, "You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." When he heard this, he became very sad, because he was a man of great wealth. Luke 18:21-23

When I entered the business world as a young entrepreneur I promptly learned that virtue and compassion are not always synonymous with affluence. While in my twenties I picked up a few extra bucks on the side, working for a friend of mine, Drew Donen, in his classic car auctions. It was exciting working the crowd of bidders that included some of the most wealthiest men in the nation. One of the regular attendees was Marty Hakobian. A little portly man in his fifties, that maybe topped 5 foot tall on his tip toes, he would tour the auction car lot in a custom mini golf cart with his walking cane. Marty made his living picking up trash. Apparently, many Armenians fled Turkish persecution to settle in the Fresno area of California. As with many poor immigrants that were not afraid of hard work, they stuck together and became wealthy in the niche of trash disposal.

Mr. Hakobian invited Drew and I up to the new mansion he was building in the Encino Hills, when he found out that I was also an artist that designed and built custom swimming pools. A rich man prone to bluntness with a gruff personality, Marty gave us a tour of his estate with it's sixteen car garage to store his rare Feraris and his 180 degree view of the entire San Fernando Valley. As Drew and I took in the view and complimented him on the beauty of the home and his good taste in design, Mr. Hakobian opined his thoughts on his new venue, when he said, "Yeah the whole reason I built this high up was so I could piss on all the Jews down below." All I could think of was, "Close your mouth Tim, before you catch a fly." Whoa! I can't believe he just said that as I glanced at Drew to see his reaction. You see, Drew is Jewish.

Never the wilting flower, Drew responded, "Marty ... I'm Jewish." Mr. Hakobian froze a second and then as if nothing happened went on to mention the next glorious feature of his opulent digs. Unbelievable

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 5:2-4

Years later I would take my sons on a mission trip to Mexico to see the other kind of wealth in faith. We delivered wrapped Christmas gifts to orphanage children in the mountains above Ensenada. While watching the joyful children ecstatically tear open their gifts, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was witnessing a serendipitous moment, where my children were blessing the Chiclet girl's children and she was somewhere smiling.

I understand now how some of the richest people in the Kingdom will have no pockets.

Easier To Be

2009-02-22T21:10:00.000-08:00

Hi Tim,

This is the you of 2009 writing the you of 1972 a letter from the future. I thought I would drop you a note of encouragement about the path you're on and maybe give you a little confidence in some of the choices you'll be faced with in the next few years at Newbury Park High School.

I know you just moved from Simi Valley to the Lynn Ranch area of Thousand Oaks and you're probably very busy trying to fit in, so I'll try to keep this brief. I don't want to warn you about upcoming fears, heartbreaks and bad accidents because they should stay surprises. Along with the love, successes and good accidents, those experiences will help develop you into the me of today. I guess that old Nietzsche quote, "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger" is really true after all, huh? LOL... Sorry, I forgot you wouldn't know what that means. LOL stands for Laughing Out Loud. It got started with chat rooms on the Internet... Oh, never mind. I can see your eyes rolling back in your head now. Just forget I ever said that.

First off, don't try so hard to be popular. I know you want people to love you and that's fine. That will never change, but don't spend so much time, trying to be someone you're not, because your real friends will be the people that love the real you. I'll let you in on a little secret. When you get to college, it all changes. You know how impressed you are now with all the jocks and cheerleaders? Everyone is trying to look good and be cool, right? Well when you get to college, the weirder you are the better. All those things you "poo poo" now like nerdy band members and artsy fartsy drama club kids, they become the new popular and the Macho Studs with their Barbies are the new dorks! LOL.. Sorry, there I go all modern on you again.

Even though that weirdness will end up being just as trendy, my point is you'll miss out on a lot of great fulfilling experiences if you don't stay true to your gifts in creative art. Just be yourself and never be ashamed of your passions.

My last but not least encouragement is your faith in God. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You've avoided a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, but he's been there for you all 13 years of your life.

He loves you.

And by the way, when you get a chance, pick up a study Bible with some modern vernacular. I know that's a ten dollar word so like Mom used to say go look it up in the dictionary. You're going to love the Internet. Find a Bible version without the antiquated thees and thous and start off with Romans 1. It'll answer a lot of those nagging questions you have right now about how we will all be accountable to God. Yes, Tim, even the Pygmy in the Outback... Smart Alec.

I know you're afraid of the rejection you'll face, but as a Born Again Believer today I can tell you that your secular life as you know it now will never bring you the peace and joy you constantly search for. Do I still face trials? Sure, but now I'm forgiven and the guilt and shame are gone. I can face anything with the Holy Spirit guiding me. The good news is you were eventually saved in the nick of time, because you almost killed yourself in more ways than one.

Anyways, give everyone at home a kiss and a hug for me and always tell them you love them. You never know when you'll lose one of them.

I'll see you later.

Love,

You

P.S. By the way, don't worry about buying Platform shoes and getting an Afro. Save the money those fads didn't last very long. :)

Lean On Me

2009-02-21T10:21:00.000-08:00

Coach Roseboro barked, "Ahern, when we kickoff, I want you to play end. It's your job to turn the runner to the inside and not let anything get to the outside. I don't care if you make the tackle. Whatever you do, do not let the ball carrier get outside of your containment." I knew I was given one of the most important assignments and I was determined to carry out my orders, to the best of my ability.

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At 12 years old, I had found a sport I excelled in, with tackle football. What I lacked in size and speed, I made up for with acumen and the sense of a hammer instead of a nail. I played to passionately "lay out" an opponent with fearless aggression. Up till then our parents were constantly telling us boys to, "Stop rough housing!" and here was an activity that not only allowed it but encouraged it. This was the perfect sport for me.

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As I'm running down the field on the kickoff, I see the ball carrier running towards the other sideline. Wanting so badly to gain approval, I cut across the field to make a highlight reel tackle to thwart the touchdown run. I was shocked when I saw the ball carrier hand the ball off in a trick reverse play. Faking me out of my jock strap, the new ball carrier sped to my outside, down my sideline all the way to the end zone for the go ahead score. Back on the sideline, Coach Roseboro got right in my face mask and yelled at the top of his lungs, "What's the matter with you? Are you stupid? Didn't I tell you, no matter what, do not let the ball get to your outside? Sit down, you're benched!" I let my teammates down. I was devastated.

As an adult coaching youth football, I saw some of my own strengths and weaknesses in my two sons. Trent was a coach's dream player. A "Steady Eddie" lineman that would do everything you asked of him. In fact, I had to be careful with him because he would literally do everything exactly the way I showed him. I would have to say, "Trent, I know I said to do it this way, but I didn't literally mean put your foot there. I meant, go in that direction." With average physical skills, he was always one of best players on the team with his no excuse attitude and reliability in the heat of the game. The ultimate team player.
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Connor on the other hand is physically gifted as an athlete. His abilities usually placed him in skilled positions like Quarterback, Running Back or Linebacker. Connor was difficult to coach at times because he thought he knew more than his coaches. There were many situations where he would leave his responsibility and take over someone else's if he thought he could do it better, which was not always in the best interest of the team. One of the things I love about Connor is his courage under pressure. I called him a "Gamer", because in the waning moments of a tight game, there are two types of players. The one in the pressure cooker that says, "Coach, I don't know if I can handle the stress" and then the kid like Connor that says, "Bring it on. Give me the ball and I'll get it done."

Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. If the foot should say, "Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body," it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. And if the ear should say, "Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body," it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body. 1 Corinthians 12:14-20

That experience in my youth, was a valuable lesson that prepared me for a relationship with God. As a believer I need to glorify the Lord through the gifts he's given me and trust in him to provide for me in areas he didn't. As an entrepreneur and habitual over achiever, I'm still learning to trust God to send other parts of the body to help this member.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Proverbs 3:5

Silver Springs

2009-02-15T14:35:00.000-08:00

Mr. Britton, our 8th grade Biology teacher passed out the sex education forms to have our parents sign permission slips. It's funny how some kids speculated about the way he might teach such a course.

Some of the boys were giggling and saying we'd get to watch an X rated movie and some of the girls thought the teacher would use a cartoon with cute little fluffy animals to explain the birds and the bees. I could hear a couple of the guys snickering about how could a dork like Mr. Britton begin to explain sex when he's probably never had it.

My first encounter with some pornography was a magazine that my cousin Chris had stumbled upon in his Grandfather's night stand. I knew about Playboy magazines, but Chris elaborated about how much more elicit this magazine was, with its black and white photos. When I was with Chris at his Grandfather's house a few months later, I dared him to show it to me to prove he wasn't lying. Sure enough out he comes with it and we went through it quickly, burning indelible scars in our young male brains.

I struggled with those images for years to come.

About the same time, our family went on a vacation to see my Grandma Letty up in Lake Isabella. Dad brought our ten speeds so that he and I could take a road trip up along the Kern River to Johnsondale, an old logger's camp. I remember thinking it was a pretty special bike ride because it was just my Dad and I. And then it dawned on me, what was going on when Dad started asking me some irregular questions.

Dad was going to have "The Talk" with me and he was trying to find out how much I knew before he launched in to a touchy, forgive the pun, subject. I wasn't nervous but I felt sorry for my Dad because I could tell he was really uptight about the whole thing. I'd never heard him stutter and stammer so much. He finally came right out and asked me if I knew about sex. I said, "Oh yeah Dad, I already know all about that stuff." You should have seen the instant state of relief on his face. He replied, "Oh, OK... great! Well... Good! I'm glad we got that out of the way." and we never talked about it again.

For his sake, I lied. I let him off the hook too easily and it was a shame, because for my sake, I could have used some fatherly guidance in the years to come.

Have you ever noticed how the enemy takes something good that God created and perverts it? Satan is quick to use our natural desires for intimacy and love to obfuscate the relationship with our Father in Heaven. In the context of marriage, sex is beautiful and constantly gives, but lust takes and can never be satisfied very long. It's no wonder verses that speak to lust invariably include the synonymous greed.

But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God's holy people. Ephesians 5:3

Our children don't need more sex education classes. If anything Mr. Britton left me with more questions than answers with his complicated charts of fallopian tube diagrams and odd polliwog like drawings on the chalkboard. Our children need Godly parents that can guide them through the barrage of sexual messages and innuendos, that our media bombards them with every day and talk about the emotional aspects the schools can't teach.

Walking with the Lord protects me from the keloid images of women that used to cry out and haunt me. Temptations now are like birds that fly into my head and quickly fly out. They no longer stay and make a nest.

In love with my wife, the romantic Song of Solomon book in the Bible expresses the excitement of an affectionate, loving relationship in the eyes of God.

Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck. How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine! and the smell of thine ointments than all spices! Song of Solomon 4:9-10

When I Look To The Sky

2009-02-14T21:04:00.000-08:00

The first Valentine's Day card I ever got was from you. I wish I still had it... along with you.

Although I miss hearing your sweet voice, I feel the part of me that came from you and it comforts me when I need you the most. Your love and encouragement will endure until we embrace again.

Happy Valentine's Day Mom. I Love You,

Tim

Taking Care Of Business

2009-02-13T17:57:00.000-08:00

For even when we were with you, we gave you this rule: "If a man will not work, he shall not eat." 2 Thessalonians 3:10

My ambition hit full stride in the 8th grade. Never one to be spoiled with children of the Great Depression as parents, I quickly learned if I really wanted something, I would have to work for it.

I can remember standing in the supermarket checkout line with my younger brother and sisters, while Mom gave the clerk a boat load of coupons to save money. I could see the wheels turning in my little brother's eyes as they met the Baby Ruth candy bars that begged the question, "Mommy, can I have one of these?" Just as he reached to grab one to show her and before my sisters could join in the chorus, I gave him a quick elbow jab in the chest with "The Look". The look that meant, put it back and shut up or else you'll get it at home in our bedroom later if you don't. Fortunately Mom was too busy to hear him and Terry just went on to the next distraction.

Maybe being the oldest, I heard more of the stories my parents shared about growing up poor and how they were sacrificing for me to provide me with a better life that gave me a sense of guilt in asking for anything.

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My first regular income came to me by way of babysitting and mowing the lawn for our neighbor's, the Tremonti's. Mowing their lawn was easy, but babysitting little Vinnie and Julie Tremonti was a bit more challenging. Their older sister, Marvina, was no problem at 8 years old. In fact all you had to do with her was give her a Tiger Beat Magazine with teen idol, Bobby Sherman, on the cover and she was gold till bedtime.

Even though the Tremonti Toddler Tag Team made me earn every red cent of sitters wages, they at least made me smile the whole time with their joyful exuberance and constant laughter. I was fortunate I didn't get some real brats, my first time out.

With my own money, there were two things at the top of my list to buy for myself. Music and milkshakes. For the music, Grandma Letty took me to the local K-Mart in Simi so I could buy two albums, James Taylor's, Sweet Baby James and Black Sabbath's, Masters of Reality. They were both Blue Light Specials. My Mom would've been proud.

I know what your thinking. Wow, James Taylor and Ozzy Osbourne, now there's an eclectic taste for genres. Well let's just say I was familiar with many singer songwriters of that era in James Taylor, Carole King and Friends, but the Sabbath choice was because I overheard one of the "cool kids" at Sinaloa Junior High talking about how boss the song, Sweet Leaf was. Little did Grandma or I know that Sweet Leaf was a metaphor for marijuana.

The shake I desired was not just your everyday milkshake. For years I had heard other kids talk of a legendary chocolate milkshake, the "Awful Awful", that John Henry's restaurant sold down on Los Angeles Avenue. I was told they were so big that if you could guzzle their shake in 5 minutes or less, they would give you a second one free. In addition to liking chocolate shakes, I think the challenge enticed me more than anything and so I set out on my bike with my 75 cents to go claim my big man on campus status, for school the next day.

There was one thing I never thought about, looking down at my bloated stomach. What in the world are you supposed to do with a free milkshake when you're too full to even look at another one?

Oh well, more virtuous challenges lie ahead.

One of the small joys in reading the Bible these days is finding a virtue that I don't have to aspire to, I already possess it. I was surprised how many verses in the New Testament deal with the value of hard work.

In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: "It is more blessed to give than to receive."Acts 20:35

I realize now, that hard work in and of itself, is not enough. There are plenty of people that work harder than I do. The difference is now I'm available for the Holy Spirit to lead me in the Lord's work. On paper all the ministries I'm involved with, along with running a business, being a good husband and father, look physically impossible to be truly effective at any one. As long as I stay near God he miraculously carves out a way and amazing things are possible with the same "Taking Care Of Business" attitude of my youth.

Changes

2009-02-09T21:39:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pT8C3ZmNrsE

Our men’s bible study group missed the annual “Beyond the Walls” event last year that the organization ACTION facilitates through all of the local churches this area. ACTION is an acrostic for, Area Christians Taking Initiative On Needs. The BTW event entails a one day, once a year project where churches send out teams to help local people in need, to help them in various ways, including gardening, small remodels and general cleanup.

Since we missed the event, we decided to take the initiative to start our own one day makeover. We found out from Rob Orth at ACTION, that projects are always available through them all year long. Last September, we helped an 83 year old widow, Mrs Dominguez with her house. You can see the video on YouTube at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ecdh4qCRz-s . It was such a blessing for all of us and our group decided to continue with these projects every 3 or 4 months.

On January 31st we served 80 year old John Graves in Thousand Oaks. John’s project came to us through a girl’s, Iron Sharpens Iron group that meets across the street from John at Jenny McMaster’s home. John is a widower that recently had a stroke. He has no family to help and his friend, Leigh has been the only one to be there for him. The girls ISI group wanted to help John out with a makeover so our group partnered with them and many other Oaks Christian students to help serve John.

Our men's group could continue on with our own projects, but with our experience, we saw an opportunity to mentor this youth group on this project, in the hope that they could continue on their own with future projects and hopefully mentor other groups, to encourage them to take some initiative of their own.

Corwin Logsdon and I along with the McMasters coordinated the event and I mentored ISI’s Morgan Hallock on the execution of this type of service project. Morgan led 3 of the 13 teams working on the project.

What an amazing God we have! Corwin Logsdon went in to ask John Graves something and ended up leading him to the Lord. Get this, Corwin has never led anyone to the Lord. I had Morgan Hallock from the girl’s ISI group pray for John and all of us this morning and then later Corwin just explained how the Lord has been working in his life and John said he wished at eighty he could have that same thing and Corwin told him it was easy and led him in prayer and he accepted.

Then to top it off Pastor Larry DeWitt comes by the project and learned what had happened. So Larry goes in to pray with John and they both realized how they knew each other because John was the banquet manager at the Hungry Tiger Restaurant back when Calvary started, 32 years ago!

You never know when the seeds you plant will grow.

Up Around The Bend

2009-02-07T10:38:00.000-08:00

In a marathon bike trip to San Diego, Dad introduced Terry and I to our first sense of accomplishment and notoriety.

My Mom, Letti and Kelly would drive the family station wagon ahead of us to a predestined hotel, while we peddled along the ocean on Pacific Coast Highway. Dad was always careful about reminding us to stay as far right of the traffic as possible and this was before wide bike lanes. I'm amazed at the chutzpah of the cyclists today. They don't seem to have the same respect for safety as we did with their "I own the road" attitudes.

Nearing the first 50 mile leg of the trip, both my little brother and I were eagerly anticipating our first destination. Our Dad knew we were both physically fading and he knew how to coach us to the end. "See that point out there on the horizon?" He asked. "Yeah" We both replied. He said, "Our hotel is just around that bend"

Alright, now your talkin'!, I thought to myself. There is a goal I can sink my teeth into. Something I can shoot for. I took the lead and took the pace up a notch. "Tim, you need to pace yourself. That's farther than it looks." My Dad shouted from behind.

Bends in the road can be elusive things. Once you get where you think it is, it's no longer there. It's moved out ahead in the distance again. "Dad, how much longer will it take us to get there?" I asked. He said, "Oh, about 20 minutes, give or take." Now I didn't have a watch on but I thought I could sense 20 minutes when I felt it.

"I soon realized that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within." ~Lillian Smith

In the last 2o minutes that lasted an hour, I learned something about myself and life. The trip wasn't about arriving at the destination. It was appreciating the journey on the way. I felt the rising wind that blew gently on my face. The salty smell of the ocean waves, along with the brilliant amber clouds on the sunset's horizon was a God moment in time with his creation.
Adding the camaraderie of sharing those moments with people I dearly loved, created an experience that I would seek to duplicate for years to come.

The ride suddenly seems shorter.

‘I have come in order that you might have life – life in all its fullness.’ John 10:10

Give A Little Bit

2009-02-04T07:37:00.001-08:00

Coach Stan Gerlach was one of the greatest men I ever met.

Our flag football team was practicing at Sinaloa Junior High School when I stuck my neck out and asked the coach a question. "Coach, can I try quarterback?" His answer has been with me to this day. It wasn't a yes or no answer as much as how he answered me that made a huge impact on the me of that 7th grader to the me of today.

We were a championship team with a lot of talent and I'm sure Coach Gerlach was considered a good coach from an X's and O's perspective, but for the life of me I couldn't tell you the score of a single game in that season or discuss the Coach's gridiron philosophy. What I do remember is the class, dignity and integrity that exuded from that man. I found out years later that he was a Christian and even though he never discussed his faith in God with us, Stan planted a seed in me that made it natural for me to accept the Lord's free gift of salvation as a young man.

He was my role model, not only as a coach myself, but as a husband, father and friend. Coach was always a glass half full kind of guy. He chose to see the good in all of us and used his position to remind us that we were all capable of making the same choices. At the same time, he wasn't a push over either. He never yelled at you, but he was prone to yell for you. He studied his players and knew who needed correction and discipline and who just needed more encouragement, because they were their own worst critic.

I'm sure it's no coincidence that his younger son, Pete Gerlach is now my neighbor. Pete told me a few years ago how his father passed away. He said they were at the funeral of a good friend and his Dad delivered the eulogy of a lifetime about faith in God and eternity in Heaven. Stan then went back to his seat, put his head down like he was praying and then peacefully died. That doesn't surprise me. Coach Gerlach even died like a true believer.

"Tim, you want to play quarterback? OK, I'll put you in at quarterback after the next play. I want to encourage you for coming up to me and asking me that. I think that's wonderful that you had the courage to ask."

I was never the first string quarterback in football but I am in life. I've always had the heart of a leader. It's my calling to lead others with integrity and vision. On that weekday practice field, Coach Stan Gerlach didn't squelch my passion, but catapulted it into a lifetime of confidence.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy think about such things. Philippians 4:8

Signs

2009-02-02T22:21:00.000-08:00

"Didn't you boys see the keep out sign?" The man asked as he slowed his car down to match our strides. "uh... yeah, we saw it." I said as I glanced at Jimmy and my little brother, Terry.

What a bust we were, walking along the dirt shoulder of the road coming out of the private Sinaloa Lake area with tackle boxes and poles. After an awkward moment of stare down, the man asks sternly, "What is your boy's addresses?" Like he was going to write it down. "Uh... its..." and before I can even feed him a phony address, my little brother nervously blurts out, "955 El Monte Drive, Simi Valley California!"

Jimmy and I are just staring at each other with our mouths wide open, like we can't believe Terry just said that. Without turning my head, I look sideways at the man waiting for his response. After another awkward moment of breath holding he drove away. Aimed at Terry, it seemed like an appropriate time to repeat a few of my Dad's zingers like, "I don't think you have a brain cell working!" or the infamous, "What are you stoop nuts?" Instead Jimmy and I took turns kicking a butt cheek of Terry's, every other step of the way home. "I'm sorry!" Kick, "Ow! I said I'm sorry!" kick, "Ow! Stop!" Kick, and so it went for the next quarter mile.

It was probably a combination of 1971 and 7th grade that brought out the oats of rebellion, defiance and independence. Our nation was steeped in an anti-war movement attitude, which corresponded with my rite of passage through post adolescence in Junior High School. A keep out sign became an open invitation to test the limits.

Back in the day, there was no such thing as a 6th grade graduation. You were lucky if you didn't get hazed by a gang of 8th grade hooligans, waiting for the day they could get their 7 pounds of flesh after giving it themselves a year earlier. In 7th grade there were no signs to warn you about walking on the 8th or 9th grade lawns. If you did, you got thrown into a trash can.

The Pharisees came and began to argue with him, seeking from him a sign from heaven to test him. And he sighed deeply in his spirit and said, "Why does this generation seek a sign? Truly, I say to you, no sign will be given to this generation." And he left them, got into the boat again, and went to the other side. Mark 8:11-13

Even though the Lord has blessed me with a myriad of signs already, I still ask for signs. Not that he exists, but to prove to unbelievers that he does. Instead, I should be a living sign of the Lord's work that others can see him through me.

I Gotta Try

2009-01-27T22:31:00.000-08:00

Never give up. And never, under any circumstances, face the facts. Ruth Gordon

Sinaloa Junior High seventh grade basketball tryouts were in 2 weeks. Dad got us a backboard and put it on the back roof of the garage, so I could practice. Handy Dad's first attempt didn't go so well. While Terry and I were standing under the board to rebound Dad's long shot, the board came loose and slammed to the ground. Like TV detectives, Dan August and Joe Mannix, Terry and I dove and rolled to the sides to avoid serious injury.

Basketball was my Dad's sport in high school and naturally I thought it would be mine. I was convinced through sheer will power and desire alone, not only would I make the team but I would start and star. Tryouts would last a week and then Coach Collins would make his cuts.

In my mind I was the same size as everyone else, but in reality I was a year behind everyone in my grade and just plain small. You'd think if I was small that I would have at least been fast, but no I was a slow poke. Just about the only thing I had going for me athletically was my passion and desire to compete. That's why football would end up being my sport, because I could hit people with reckless abandon like a ton of bricks.

I just stood there looking at the list on Coach Collins class window of the 12 players that made the team. Maybe if I stare at the list long enough, my name will suddenly appear. I'm shocked that I didn't make the team.

"Ahern, what are you doing here? You got cut didn't you?" said Steve Haggar. I said, "Yeah, I know. I just want to come out and practice with you guys. I know I'm not on the team." When the coach showed up he asked me why I would want to come out to practices if I'm not going to play. I said I didn't mind, so he said, "OK have it your way" and he let me practice with the guys.

I was at all of the practices and so by the time we got to the first game, I think everyone forgot I wasn't really on the team. So I was given a uniform and there I was on the bench for the entire season. I didn't mind. We were an undefeated, really good team and I was just happy to help give our starters some practice competition and be in uniform to cheer our team on to victory.

Last game of the season, 3 minutes left and we're ahead by 20 points, when Coach Collins say's, "Ahern, you're in." Whoa! I can't believe it. I'm actually in the game. As time was winding down neither team was scoring when I got the opportunity of a season when Tom Smailes passed me the ball. It all seemed like slow motion in the movies. I could hear the Laker's announcer, Chick Hearn in my mind.

"Smailes on the dribble drive, stops, looks, pivots, shovels off to Ahern, open at the top of the key. Ahern fakes, Oh my, puts Sequoia's guard in the popcorn machine, dribbles, pulls up, fade away jumper and SWISH, nothing but net!"

I remember my whole team shouting my name, "Way to go Ahern!" while every guy on the team gave me five and Coach Collins gave me a hug. It was one of the best days in my life.

"I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move." Matthew 17:20

"And last but not least our award tonight for the Most Improved Player goes to a young man that showed a lot of tenacity. He never gave up and he inspired his fellow teammates with his unselfish participation in practices and great attitude throughout the season. We were all very proud of him when he scored in the last few seconds of the last game of the season."

(Applause)

I thank you Lord for always being with me growing up even when I didn't acknowledge you or give you the glory.

The Way I Feel

2009-01-26T23:37:00.000-08:00

It's like someone flipped the panic switch, without letting me know. All of the sudden I'm in a state of high anxiety. I'm going to die and I don't know why. A man's shout is reverberating in my head, with incomprehensible repetitive words. When I try to ignore the sound, it gets worse. I'm in that twilight R.E.M. type of sleep, semiconscious.

I wake myself up expecting the nightmare to subside, but the emergency is still there. Maybe I'm not all the way awake. I briskly walk around the house turning on every light I can find. The breathing is very loud in my ears. There's that damn voice again.

All of us sixth graders at Madera Elementary were to compete in the Physical Fitness Olympics. If we did well, we would go on to compete in a citywide competition against all the other elementary schools in Simi. My Father was impressed with preliminary reports on my tryout progress. I would practice the various events at P.E. every school day and teachers would monitor our progress and ultimately pick the top students in each event to represent our school.
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How good it felt to get my Dad's attention when I told him I could do a hundred push-ups. I was also doing very well in sit ups and the baskets per minute competition but for some reason I got that look of love when I mentioned the push-ups. That really impressed Dad.

As the trial date got closer, I noticed push ups and sit ups weren't listed on the schedule of events. Come to find out, the push ups and sit ups were only used to get in shape for the events and not intended for an individual meet.

Oh no. What am I going to do? Here I've gone and gotten all this attention from my Dad. What am I going to say? I couldn't bear to tell him. I would feel like a complete failure in the eyes that wouldn't give me the look anymore.

I don't have any choice. I'll have to lie.

Lying once is one thing, but living a lie everyday for a week was another. Dad asked me about it all the time and I just dug myself deeper with my mouth as the shovel. I brought home a 3rd place ribbon for baskets per minute and I told my parents that there was a mix up on my push up, 1st place ribbon. I told them they would get me one soon. I thought that would suffice but it didn't and my Mom eventually called my teacher at my fathers request to find out what was taking so long for the ribbon. I was crushed.

They never mentioned it. I never heard a thing about lying or the, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself." speech thingy. Absolutely nothing. I had to live with the pain. In the future, I heard that when you shove the pain deep inside and not talk about it, that the pain will eventually come out psychologically or physically.

Sitting there on the couch months later, I'm suddenly awake when I hear myself answering my Dad in the middle of the night. "No, I can't think of anything or anyone at school that would have caused a nightmare." Even though I didn't classify the panic attack as a nightmare. Dad tried and tried to get the answer to what I might be hiding, but I had no idea where the attack was coming from. Later I realized the voice in my head was my Dad's.

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Saviour....Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you. Isaiah 43:1-4

As a believer I no longer trust The Way I Feel. I trust Him. The fear left.

The Rover

2009-01-25T21:48:00.000-08:00

"Red Rover, Red Rover, send Tim right over!" I would fly barefooted like a supersonic missile at the line of neighborhood kids on the other side of the lawn. There was hardly a chain link I couldn't break with my competitive passion and desire. As I busted through the line, my momentum carried me off the lawn and across the sidewalk onto the ivy in the Ringo's parkway.

As I walked back to our game, Eileen Hatch yelled, "Look at your foot!" A chill went up my spine as I saw the gash that went from the bottom of my foot up to just short of my Achilles tendon. One of the other kids pulled out of the ivy a broken glass jar. I just stared at my foot, trying to understand what just happened. It didn't hurt at all. Maybe there was a way to avoid stitches if it doesn't hurt.

What a dichotomy I was as this fiercely competitive, no fear of violence kid that was a chicken, a little baby "wa wa" when it came to stitches. The thought had crossed my mind to just wrap it up and let it heal on its own. Did I already say it didn't hurt? I don't care what it looks like. Maybe if I don't make a big deal about it, my Mom won't either.

Probably too casually, I come limping into our house, short of breath and find my Mom vacuuming. I tap her on the back and yell over the Hoover, "Hi Mom. How are you doing?" She glances at me and then goes back to vacuuming. She thought she heard what I said but then realized there was no way Tim Ahern, her son, would ever come home early from playing in the streets, to interrupt her while she was busy cleaning the house on a beautiful Saturday afternoon to strike up a little chit chat, concerned about her welfare.

That is really strange. She turns off the vacuum and looks me in the eye studying my expression and body language. She always said she could tell when I was lying. I was a good read, I guess. "What's the matter?" She asked. "Oh nothing" I replied. "I was just wondering how bad a cut has to be, before it needs stitches, how big?" I queried. "Tim, quit beating around the bush. Is your brother or sisters hurt?" She asked as she urgently walked towards the front door. "No, no, no." I answered. I started to cry, while I pointed to my right foot.

The most painful part of the surgical procedure wasn't the actual stitches, It was the needle that the doctor stuck right in the open wound that almost sent me through the roof. After that, everything was easy. I didn't feel a thing after the shot of Novocain. While the doctor is stitching me up, I'm watching my Mom, sitting there with a tear in her eye. She then tilts her head back against the wall, looks up and then after a beat, gets up and leaves. I hear her asking the nurse, "I have to vomit. Where's the restroom?"

"But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

I can't do this life on my own but when I just join hands with the Holy Spirit and let him work through me, I can glorify God when he uses my fears to be a witness and an example of the change that only comes in a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Those that knew the old me, see the difference.

I've never been a good actor portraying me.

Spirit In The Sky

2009-01-24T23:21:00.000-08:00

BAM! "What the heck is that?" as I leaped back from the kitchen window that was rattling from the roar across Simi Valley, back in the sixties. As I looked east towards Rocketdyne's Santa Susana field Lab, I saw an enormous fire ball in the sky above the ridge line. My neighbor buddy, Ronny Ringo, started laughing at me, "Happens all the time! You'll get used to it." NASA tested all of the rocket engines for the Apollo missions up there.

It seemed like my Dad had a really boring job compared to every other kid on the block, whose dad worked at Rocketdyne. They test fired the Saturn engines that would propel our astronauts to the Moon in 1969. That sounded really cool and exciting. We felt part of the lunar landing since those engines came from Simi.

Imagine saying your dad worked as a "Financial Analyst for Property Research Corporation." You were ready to take a nap by the time you finished saying that one. You could see their eyes begin to gloss over and start to roll back in their heads as I made a feeble attempt to explain his job description. Those were $10 dollar words for a "dime buys you a candy bar" mind.

All that rocket testing was a blessing, in that by the time the Southern California Earthquakes started in 1971, I was already calm, cool and collected. After my first earthquake, I said, "Is that it? What, no ball of fire? What's up with that?"

On a sweltering summer day, July 20, 1969, we all sat on a picnic table in our backyard watching the lunar landing on our little Sony TV. I remember "Scrama" McHugh, wiping off the plastic, red and white checkered table cloth as we finished our barbecued dinner. At fifty something, it was pretty amazing that Grandma's lifetime started with the horse and buggy. I wonder what happened, 50 used to sound so old. Now it's getting younger by the day.

"That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind" Neil Armstrong

All of us kids played together well, while all the TV analysts talked endlessly about the moon leading up to the landing. My 4 year old baby sister, Kelly was a lot of fun. She was my original audience; I could always make her laugh. She would giggle as I flung her by her arms in 'G' force circles. I called it, "Astronaut Training School". Letti, Terry and I would laugh until our guts hurt and tears were rolling down our cheeks, watching her stagger sideways, trying to walk straight in a dizzy stupor. She would eventually fall over, pop back up with a smile on her face and plead with me to do it again! "Please Timmy, please! ATS, ATS!" As a performance artist, Kelly would always be my kinship thespian.

Listening to Walter Cronkite and watching the men on the moon, I wondered what God thought about mankind coming physically closer to him again in this modern day, Tower of Babel, event. I'd heard the prior, Apollo 8 crew members, read from Genesis on Christmas Eve. Due to that incident, I guess NASA was sued by the atheist, Madelyn Murray OHare, for talking about faith in space. How dare they bring God into heaven? There has to be an oxymoron like, "good grief" in there somewhere.

Secular media always gave me the impression that faith and reason were parallel lines that never crossed. My faith was blessed years later when I found out how many Buzz Aldrin's were involved with science, engineering and technology.

"In the radio blackout," Aldrin wrote later, "I opened the little plastic packages which contained the bread and the wine. I poured the wine into the chalice our church had given me. In the one-sixth gravity of the moon, the wine slowly curled and gracefully came up the side of the cup. Then I read the Scripture, 'I am the vine, you are the branches. Whosoever abides in me will bring forth much fruit.' I had intended to read my communion passage back to earth, but at the last minute Deke Slayton had requested that I not do this. NASA was already embroiled in a legal battle with Madelyn Murray O'Hare, the celebrated opponent of religion, over the Apollo 8 crew reading from Genesis while orbiting the moon at Christmas. I agreed reluctantly..." "Eagle's metal body creaked. I ate the tiny Host and swallowed the wine. I gave thanks for the intelligence and spirit that had brought two young pilots to the Sea of Tranquility. It was interesting for me to think: the very first liquid ever poured on the moon, and the very first food eaten there, were the communion elements."

I praise God for that Spirit In The Sky.

Helter Skelter

2009-01-22T20:38:00.000-08:00

Pointing my little finger at him as we drove slowly through the throng of Sunday revelers staring at us on Santa Susana Pass Road, I said to my parents, "That one doesn't look like a hippie." Like he wouldn't notice I was pointing at him if I didn't use my index finger. My Dad said,"No all those men in the black leathers and greasy hair look like they're the Hells Angels; a biker gang." When I got older I read that Manson supported the family and their drug habits by pimping the girls to biker gangs, essentially turning Spahn Ranch into a Flower Child Brothel.

It was the summer of 1969 and until they finished building the Simi Freeway, we still had to use the Pass Road to get home from Grandma's house in the San Fernando Valley. As a kid I was always fascinated with old abandoned buildings and ghost towns. There was the always interesting, Bottle Village over on the Simi side of the hill along with the old movie sets in Hope Town and Spahn Ranch at the base of the Chatsworth side.

My parents would tell me tales of bandits that would rob travelers in the Wild West days and then hide out with their loot in the caves strewn throughout the rocky hillsides of the pass. They really got my attention when they talked about the legend of some bandits that were arrested and hung, that never revealed the whereabouts of their heist of gold coins, that remain hidden there to this day. In the 4o's and 50's, Hollywood used these mountains for almost all their westerns and they were currently filming the TV series, Gunsmoke. Spahn Ranch actually still corralled a lot of horses used by the studios.

At 10 years old it wasn't long before the media and classmates schooled me on the impact of the Manson Family that lived in Spahn Ranch. The killings had a stranglehold of paranoia that gripped this entire region until a majority of the senseless murderers were apprehended.

Why does God allow bad things to happen to innocent people? As children weren't we led to believe that if we were "good" enough that God would protect us? What was all that time spent on our knees at the side of the bed all about? If you were bad, you could expect to be punished and a lightning bolt could strike you dead and you'd go to Hell to be with the Devil, right?

Until I was a believer, there were no answers to those questions that made any sense.

"that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." Matthew 5:45

With faith, prayer and reading the Bible, the Holy Spirit guides us and reveals the truth. I soon realized that evil came into the world through sin. God gave us free will. In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve had dominion over the Earth, and through their sin they lost control of Earth to Satan. Satan's been in charge here on Earth ever since.

“We know that we are children of God, and that the whole world is under the control of the evil one.”1 John 5:19

All kinds of Helter Skelter, including sickness and disease, affected both good and bad people, after Satan took over the world. The Bible says there’s only One who is good, and that’s God. We’re all sinners and we're all subject to evil in the world. Accepting the death of Jesus as payment for our sins is the only definition of good. Without that we're lost, no matter how good we are.

For their heart was not steadfast with Him, nor were they faithful in His covenant. But He, being full of compassion, forgave their iniquity, and did not destroy them. Yes, many a time He turned His anger away, and did not stir up all His wrath; for He remembered that they were but flesh, a breath that passes away and does not come again. Psalm 78:37-39

Home

2009-01-21T16:52:00.001-08:00

In his pregame pep talk, Coach Chester Hopper shouted, "There is no 'I' in team!"

Alright. I glanced down the dugout bench at my teammates to see if there was any other puzzled looks. Being my first season of youth baseball; I was doing my best impression of Roger Maris to be "one of the guys" and not seem too dorky, so I didn't want to hear the silly answer to my silly question.

Who knows? Maybe the coach was concerned about losing players due to our vocabulary grades. I'd recently overheard the coaches talking about some star player at Royal High School that was suspended for a bad report card.

In his succinct way, Coach Chester boiled down the game of baseball to one ultimate goal. To cross home plate or to come home more than the other guy. That was the bottom line.

His next morsel of sage advice was on poor sportsmanship. He said, "If you strike out up at the plate, I don't want to see you sulking back to the dugout crying, throwing your bat and, or your helmet, or else!" Or else what? I knew the only thing I would be throwing that day was a baseball. Forget about the coach or the umpire, my old man would kill me if I even thought of throwing a tantrum.

Once the game started, I did think the coach was a little hypocritical. When we were on the field every kid is yelling at the top of their lungs at the batter on the other team, "Hey batter, batter, hey batter... SWING!" It's called chattering. When we were up to bat every ones got their lips and noses smashed into the chain link holes screaming, "Pitcher's off his rocker, just like Betty Crocker!" This was acceptable sportsmanlike conduct?

Chucky Ellis was always the last guy up to bat and every single time he would strike out, walk back to the dugout balling his eyes out and then sling his bat against the wall and slam his helmet on the ground. I never did see the coach's "or else".

I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Psalm 23:6

The game of baseball is a lot like life. We tell ourselves that we're not so bad. We think we're pretty good sports but our actions speak louder in chattering about the splinter in someone else's eye instead of the Louisville Slugger in our own. Instead of improving our lives, we compare our abilities to others and either covet those gifts or run them down to our level out of jealousy.

Like Chucky we whine and complain about our failures and shortcomings instead of trusting the Lord to bring us to our everlasting goal...

Home

The River

2009-01-19T15:53:00.000-08:00

"Too many times we stand aside and let the waters slip away 'til what we put off 'til tomorrow it has now become today. So don't you sit upon the shoreline and say you're satisfied. Choose to chance the rapids and dare to dance that tide." Garth Brooks

I noticed no one ever went out of their way to make the new kid welcome or introduce themselves and ease the stress of coming to a new school halfway through the year. Even though I was a compassionate sort, the possibility of a good buddy was also somewhat motivating to boot.

I always admired the brotherly bond of love between my Dad and his best friend from childhood, Gene Logan. I loved it when we got together with the Logan family because it was about the only time I saw my Dad outwardly show his love for another person. They would have such a good time laughing really hard about old times. Their senses of humor came out of a time in their youth that dysfunctional family life was unintentionally destroying.

In prior grades there were always a few new boys to the class that I reached out to and tried to befriend. For one reason or another our personalities didn't click and a friendship never came of it, but in 4th grade, Jeff Parks showed up one day with his black eye. I didn't know what to make of Jeff's silent demeanor at first. Was he a tough street brawler from the Greek tract in Simi Valley or was he just a tall introverted kid that was in the wrong place, at the wrong time when he got the shiner? By the way, there weren't many Greeks in that tract, just a lot tough kids with addresses on Aristotle St., Socrates Ave. and Hercules Ct.

Talk about an icebreaker after my initial introduction, I blurted out, "I have about seven different hairstyles, you know... This is my curly hair day." Beatlemania and surfers had set the bar really high with their long straight hairs. Curly hair was not as cool as it would be years later, when walking around with a hair pick in your fro meant you were probably good at basketball or something.

Maybe Jeff didn't hear me or maybe he thought it was some cool expression these kids at Madera Elementary used, that he wasn't hip to yet, because we hit it off right away and we were inseparable until I moved away in high school. Just to show you how serendipitous this friendship was, a few weeks later our Mothers realized they had met at a Lockheed company party, holding their newborn sons, nine years earlier! I remember my Mom laughing when she thought her son was so big for his age until she stood there that night with Betty Parks and you know who.

Being a dreamer has its advantages when you are willing to step off the shore and put both feet in the River. I've always been a daredevil in life and a risk taker in love. I ended up being a natural in sales because I knew the rejection was never personal, it was just another digit on the way to yes. Have I ever failed? Of course, but it's like Wayne Gretsky once said, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." Now along with my hair-dos I have 6 other Jeff Parks. Without failing and getting back up, I wouldn't have my wife and children to spend eternity with.

Pardon me while I try not to look down right now. Years ago, Jesus asked me to step out of the boat and I did. He promised me through his word, that if I kept my eyes on him and had faith, I'd make it to him on the other side.

It's worth a shot. What's the worst that could happen?

Carry On My Wayward Son

2009-01-17T00:03:00.000-08:00

They'll be sorry when I'm gone. That will teach them a lesson for exasperating their first born. This time is for reals. I'm not kidding. I'm running away from home for good!

Sometimes just fantasizing about the leaving, was enough while staring at the cottage cheese ceiling in our bedroom through tears of iniquity. Something about this injustice though, actually pushed me to the brink of following through and jumping off when the small voice whispered, "I dare you".

Inconspicuously collecting what any 8 year old deemed critical to survival in the wild of the Simi Valley Outback, I soon understood priorities when the logistics of adequate muscle were out weighed by a sack of supplies that traveled at about an eighth of a mile per hour.

Some things had to go back. I guess I don't need all these clothes and all that underwear. Wait a minute. Why am I bringing my little overnight bag with my tooth brush and the Batman logo on it? Years later when the Search and Rescue teams finally find me traveling with a band of gypsies along a dusty trail in the Santa Susana Mountains, I don't want to look too good.

Of course my parents will be with the rescue teams so they can bring the dentist's x-rays for positive identification. I want to see my inconsolable Mom sobbing in my Father's arms yelling in his ear, "Oh no Dan! Look at our sweet little boy with his unbrushed, rotting teeth and skid mark underwear hanging from his emaciated thighs! What have we done?" Then my Father will whimper, "Timmy, can you ever forgive us?"

My 4 year old little brother, Terrence, with the rosy, slobber coated cheeks, was the only family member that noticed his big brother dragging a blanket full of supplies across the lawn and up the back slope of dollar ivy in the late afternoon sun. "Hey Tim! Where are you going with all that stuff?" he amped. I whispered, "Shhhh! Keep it down, knucklehead." Unfazed, "What are you doing?" he whispered loudly. "I'm running away from home. Now go back in the house and be quiet." I replied. "Can I come with you?" he asked. "No Terry!" I barked with "The Look." "Now go back down the hill or I'll kick your butt."

At that age I took for granted the ivory pedestal my little brother put me on, but at that moment I realized the tears that were now heading toward the drool on his face, were tears of love that would define the bond of a lifetime.

I caved. "Oh, alright. Come on. But if you start whining or belly aching, I'm sending you straight home. Got it?" "Got it, I won't. I swear to God I won't" he promised with a huge grin under the snot. "Shhh!" I whispered. "Ok, Ok" he said. My brother was an expert in the art of whispering loudly.

We only made it as far as the neighbor's bushes, before we decided to hunker down for the night. As I set up base camp with the makeshift tent of sticks and blankets, Terry pulled out the Sony TV I prioritized up the hill. Good thing we weren't too far away from home because Terry's farts reminded me of the toilet paper I forgot. We had just finished setting up, when the first call came. "Timmy... Terry?" My Dad yelled. "Dinner time." We both looked at each other wide eyed. Slowly I brought my index finger in front of my shhh lips. Quiet... then, "TIMMY?!" with that famous, Now I really mean it, Timmy.

Boom!

We slid down the backyard ivy, hit the grass running, Chop Chop with his sidekick, Lickity Split.

"But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. "The son said to him, `Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. '

"But the father said to his servants, `Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate. Luke 15:20-24

The last time I read the parable of the Prodigal Son, I noticed something new. The Father was a rich and powerful man that loved his wayward son very much. He could have easily sent his servants to follow his son and always keep tabs on him, always make sure he was protected and taken care of behind the scenes. He didn't though. He wanted his son to come back on his own volition. By his own free will.

How much more our Father in heaven also rejoices when one of his children returns. Not because he controlled the situation. Not because he bribed or shamed him into coming back. Because his child turned around on his own and asked for forgiveness.

When we turn around and face home, our Father doesn't wait for us, he runs to us with open arms. The past is forgotten and Heaven celebrates and rejoices eternally.

Facing home, holding hands and whispering loudly,

"I love You, Terry."

The Last Resort

2009-01-15T00:14:00.001-08:00

Every time I drive back from the beach on Malibu Canyon Road I look at the rock face above the tunnel for the faint outline remnants of Lynne Seemayer's Pink Lady.

Aunt Donna had a Malibu beach house next to La Costa Beach Club back in the 60's. We'd spend a few weeks there every summer with my Mother's large side of the family. Winding through Malibu Canyon stuffed in the back of our old flesh colored, Dodge station wagon with my brother and sisters, we had a perspective the kids of today miss out on, restrained by seat belts and car seats.

There's no better view of God's creation than to observe your surroundings, looking out the back window of an old station wagon, as long as your eye contact with the driver behind you is kept to a minimum. At least you have a choice where you look. He has to look straight ahead at your mug staring right at him, which initiates an awkward moment for both parties. Every kid loved the 18 wheel truck driver that honked his horn after the kid smiled at him and mimed pulling down the horn cord.

In 1966 there was so much graffiti on the canyon walls. Today we see a tiny fraction of the tagging that blanketed every square foot of available rock, facing the passing motorists. Hippie hieroglyphics, like peace signs, Love not War and hearts with Tommy + Mary inside, advertised a generation of romantics.

Driving home one summer, I overheard my parents discussing the Pink Lady, a "15 minutes of fame", nude painting that was covered up with paint by Cal Trans. I guess they were concerned that there would be accidental driving fatalities from gawking. Funny. You don't hear about an abundance of Italian people flying off highways because they ogle their nude statues.

Designed in the image of God, it stands to reason that we all creatively try to fill the hole in our heart with our gifts. We dream about some ethereal, future state of happiness, where we can bring Heaven down to Earth and fulfill the desires of the flesh, here and now.

A joy filled life is not an existence dependent on happenstance. Earthly circumstances with sorrow, grief and poverty do not derail the believer in the pursuit of an eternal reunion with their first love in Paradise.

In my Father's house are many mansions if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. John 14:2

Secret Agent Man

2009-01-12T20:36:00.001-08:00

"Are you going to fight someone?" Rene Schumacher asked. I just pretended like I was deep in thought and didn't hear her, while I pounded my fist into the palm of my other hand. Mission Impossible accomplished. I was trying to impress this cute girl that I sat next to in class. I wanted her to think I was a tough kid, a brave dude.

Something changed in me going into the 3rd grade at Madera Elementary. All of the sudden I was seeing girls in a different light. The Simi Valley girly girls were no longer a cootie infested species that needed to be avoided at all costs.

At that age I know it wasn't hormones, but my best guess is that the macho role models that television portrayed had a lot to do with an idealized expectation of conduct for a wannabe action hero in the making. Along with a calm, cool and collected demeanor in the face of danger, these men of action and courage always got the girl.

Not too many of us younger boys got to see James Bond movies. That was an adult movie, considered too risqué for us boys. They still marketed 007 collapsible toy guns and all sorts of other spy paraphernalia to us boys and we loved it. As with any other successful movie, Hollywood was quick to send out the clones on television that everyone could see. Secret Agent Man, Mission Impossible and Our Man From U.N.C.L.E. were some of my favorites.

God doesn't want undercover agents. They will call themselves a Christian if asked, but their lives don't reveal any differences with secular society. They might even go to church on Sunday or at a minimum make a perfunctory appearance at Christmas. Some will go for social networking or creative performance motives and some will take their children to show they're a good parent.

Most will go to placate their consciences and then live the other 6 days for themselves. They aren't so bad. Nobodies perfect and they're only human. Right? On the bell curve of Mother Teresa to Hitler, they're in the 70th percentile when in reality 90 percent would fold under the persecution some foreigners face daily for their faith in Christ. Besides, why should they thump the Bible in someone’s face? That's what preachers are for. It's just not cool. Who needs the rejection?

At one time or another I've been guilty of all these motives and shortcomings. The difference is today I realize that I'll never be good enough. God the Father knew this when he sent his Son to die for me and my sins. When the sinless Jesus Christ defeated death in the resurrection, he created Heaven for me as an eternal option, through faith.

I'm glad this life is pass or fail and not graded. That would be a tragedy if a good person of 69% hangs with the Fuhrer roasting wieners, while a 70% do gooder gets the whole Shangri La farm.

Jesus forgives us when we believe that he can.

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. Romans 1:16

Tom Sawyer

2009-01-11T10:51:00.000-08:00

"How do you Hock-a-Loogie?" I inquired. "It's easy." Desiree said. "Just turn around and I'll show you." "Turn around?" I asked. "Yeah, just do it!" she ordered. As I turned around in the bus seat, I hear, Hauuuck and then, Thawaat, right in the back of my head, parting my hair. "Ewww!" I shouted as I jumped around and grabbed the back of my head, expecting to find a fat wad of gooey mucous in my hand.

"Jinx!" She and the other kids laughed as they saw the puzzled look on my face as my palm came back dry. She smiled and said, "When we get off the bus, I'll show you how launch a real wicked one with distance." Wow! I thought to myself, in all my years, this older woman of like 9, was the grooviest girl in the whole wide world.

tomboy / tom-boy [tom-boi] -noun
an energetic, sometimes boisterous girl whose behavior and pursuits, esp. in games and sports, are considered more typical of boys than of girls.

Desiree came to the Hatch family, a few doors down, by way of foster care. In the ensuing months all the young dudes on El Monte Drive would skip some grades in the School of Carnal Knowledge. She spared our Dad's a lot of awkward talks in the puberty for years to come.

It wasn't long before I could easily tell you the difference between the Surfers and the Greasers. I knew if you wore shirts with bold horizontal stripes, you were a surfer and if you wore black leather shoes that came to a point, you were a greaser. There were actually a lot of other differences but I remember those two distinctions because I liked them both, but I couldn't imagine the mixed signals I would send to all the different gangs of Simi Valley, by wearing them both at the same time. Not to mention I'd look like a dork.

Parents were more easy going back in the 60's. I think there was just as much trouble in the world, but without the media technology of today, they just wouldn't hear about it as much. There were a ton of kids on the street any given night on the weekend, playing Hide and Seek without boundaries.

With Rocketdyne regularly firing their Gemini rocket engines at their field lab in the Santa Susana Pass, NASA's heyday brought a lot of young families west from the San Fernando Valley. I got tired of the same answer when I asked a neighborhood kid where their dad worked.

Like scary stories around a campfire, Desiree captivated us with her tales of crime in the big city. We all huddled on someone's front lawn under a street light, wide eyed, hanging on her every word.

The Hatch's had three children and the oldest was Harold. My friends and I were scared of the older Hatch. He had a scowl, hardly ever smiled and we stayed clear of him when possible. To his peers, he was probably a great guy but to me he just looked flat out mean and I pictured him stuffing me in a trash can, just like the bully's did to my Dad when he was young, if I stared too long at his short fused face. I'm not sure if this was a myth or not but Desiree once told us little guys that when Mrs. Hatch was breast feeding her baby Harold, he got so mad one time, that he bit her!

Word must have gotten out amongst the parents about the freckled face trouble maker, Desiree, because I noticed our time together with her diminished over the next few months. It wasn't long before I would hear rumors of her acting out and getting grounded or that she was on her way to juvenile hall, if she wasn't on the lam already. Also her novelty and believability were getting old and I think she knew she needed some new naive blood to hold an audience.

The straw that probably broke the camel's back was right after she told some of the impressionable younger boys that if you threw Christmas light bulbs high enough, they would make the same exact sound as a cherry bomb or an M80 when they exploded on the asphalt.

During Christmas break, my Mom noticed some of our light bulbs missing from the roof eave by the block wall and I knew right away, that there was only one kid with the chutzpah to pull that one off. I thought, Little Petey Myers must have ratted her out, because Desiree made all us older boys vow on our Mother's graves that we would never snitch on her. Besides she threatened to kick our butts if we did and I couldn't imagine my Mom in the witness protection program.

I feel sorry for some foster kids. New born babies are always in high demand, but older kids, with a lot of baggage are hard pressed to find some parents to adopt them, to love and nurture them.

"Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God" (John 1:12).

Years later when I read this Bible verse, it dawned on me that until we have a personal relationship with the One that surpasses all understanding, Jesus, we're all drifting though this life as little Desirees, looking for love, looking for someone to adopt us and call us their own. We all want to be loved.

Anything's possible. I always wondered if Harold Hatch found it and is smiling now.

Let It Go

2009-01-09T20:49:00.000-08:00

Uncle "Olympia Beer Can" Bill said, "Hey Timmy, say crap." He was cracking my other uncles up as my Mom walked into the den. "Bill! Stop that. He's only 2, you should be ashamed of yourself." she said shaking her head, trying to hide the teeney-weeney smile in the corner of her mouth.

As she walks into the smoke filled kitchen, to talk to her sisters, Uncle Bill whispers, "Hey Timmy come here." The uncles start to giggle, anticipating Billy's wit. "Pull my finger" and the uncles are on the floor, eyes squinted, mouth open, no sound coming out they're laughing so hard.

Fast forward a few July 4th family get togethers and you see all the aunts, uncles and cousins playing croquet on our back lawn in the summer of '64. After the adults are done, my Aunt Katie and I pick up the mallets and start going through the motions of the game, as if we knew what we were doing. See, my Mom is the oldest of 8 siblings with Katie being the baby, so she's only a year older than me.

They tell me Katie lost her hearing at 2, when a raging fever destroyed all her ear nerve endings. Now that I think about it, I wonder why I yelled at foreigners and deaf people. Where did I get the idea, that they couldn't understand me until I pumped up the volume? Anyways, as long as you slowly pronounced all your words, Katie was an excellent lip reader.

All aspiring croquet professionals know you can knock your opponents ball away from the wire arches with your own ball. It's just part of the game. Right? Well some of those finer nuances of the game were lost on Katie. After displacing her ball for the third time the next frame of this memory is Katie's enraged face coming at me with a two handed, overhead mallet swing. I wonder how many kids have been killed emulating a Three Stooges routine.

Fade to black.

In a segue that would warm the heart of any Hollywood film editor, cut to the scene where the audience can only see what I see, as my eyes open. Staring straight up at the ceiling in surgery. Bright, glaring surgical lights with the silhouette of a doctor on my right, stitching the top of my skull, while a nurse on my left clutches the sides of my head with both hands.

Years later my Mother could laugh about one of her most embarrassing moments as a parent. She said, "Of course, both your Father and I were shaken as we stood back away from the gurney and watched the doctor suture the 3 inch gash on the top of of our little boy's head. You were crying and the nurse had to restrain you as the doctor performed surgery. All of the sudden you were still and quiet. Then you said, "Mommy?"....."Daddy?"..... we didn't want you to start squirming and crying again, so we didn't respond." Then all of the sudden, "Mommy?"..."Daddy?"...

"Oh Crap!"

"All I could think of was how I was going to kill your Uncle Bill when we got back to the house. Both of us stood there in shock with our mouths open, as the doctor looked up at us with a look like, "What kind of parents are you?"

I thank God for not only protecting me that day, but for protecting my entire family and Katie from the guilt and life long remorse that would've haunted them for the rest of their lifes if I would've lost mine.

The blessing I received that day was a lesson in forgiveness. I remember how emotional I felt as Katie kissed me, hugged me and asked me if I could forgive her. Through tears of love I said, "Of course, I forgive you."

I'm thankful that Jesus Let It Go for all of us on the cross.

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?" Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times. Matthew 18:21-22

Trouble

2009-01-07T22:48:00.000-08:00

"Come on! It's a really tuff fort.", said Greg. "I don't know...", I said, "We're gonna be late for school." Greg persisted, "Ah, come on Tim, it'll only take 5 minutes." As he's running into the field full of high thicket brush, he yells, "Come on, I promise. It'll be real quick... super fast!"

I thought what's the big deal I'll check out his old dumb fort and be back on the street to school in no time. What the heck? I ran after him.

It was 1965, we were in the 1st grade and this was only my third day of walking to school with Goofy Greg from down the street. This kid personified "ADHD" when it was commonly known as "squirrelly". He was a crack up though and he always had a silly grin on his face like he was enjoying the ride, but he had no clue where his body was taking him next.

The year before in Kindergarten, I had to walk to Eldorado Elementary with the three older O'Brien sisters that lived two doors down. At that age, I wasn't exactly sure what "Cooties" entailed, but I heard you could contract them if you hung out with girls too much so I was feeling a little more mature and independent this year strutting to school with one of the guys, or should I say, the Wacky Wanderer.

"Tim Ahern, why are you late?" Mrs. Lange queried. "Because my Mom made my lunch late." I replied without blinking. Wow that was a really quick response. You'd think I'd been a fibber for years the way I creatively came back with that nifty excuse so matter of factly. I really thought I dodged a bullet when she seemed to buy it and go on with her teaching routine.

A few days later the hammer came down at home. Do you notice all the cliche's I use? Yeah, we did a lot of that back in the 60's. I don't have a clue why. Being an exchange student trying to learn our language must have been a nightmare back then. "Now that really takes the pie! uh, I mean cake!... er, uh... oh I don't know."

I'm still a sinner. The only difference is now I acknowledge that, and I've received God's grace through a belief that Jesus Christ came to earth to live a perfect life, face every temptation, every sorrow and extreme suffering in a grisly sacrifice, so that I could be resurrected with him, cleansed of all my transgressions and live forever in Paradise.

These days, the only lying I do is to myself. Sometimes I fool myself into believing I can be good enough or successful enough to earn my way into Heaven. Every so often, I forget I'm a new creation and I compromise with a world that wants me to conform and leave Jesus on the other side of the door.

Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it—he will be blessed in what he does. James 1:23-25

Christians can do a disservice to people searching for answers. Sometimes we are sending messages either blatantly or subtly that life will be void of trouble if they only put their faith in Jesus. I have troubles and I'm not always happy with my circumstances, but I'll always have Joy. I daily come back to the mirror in me every morning by reading the Word and praying.

I underestimated Greg's fort, it was tuff... it just wasn't worth the Trouble.

It Is Well With My Soul

2009-01-06T09:54:00.000-08:00

Dance as if no one's watching, sing as if no one's listening, and live everyday as if it were your last. Irish Proverb

From my Mother’s reaction, the assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy felt like a death in the family. At 4 years old I knew it was supposed to be sad when someone died, but seeing a loved one grieve was a brand new experience for me.

To add to all the killing, my Dad and I were watching live television when we witnessed Jack Ruby shoot to death the purported assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald. Instant Replay was new to live television and I don’t think anyone knew the limit of replays yet. To Timothy Joseph Ahern that memory instantly replays to this day. I wonder why Jack Ruby didn’t get to use his middle name. Everyone else did.

With his Irish Catholic roots firmly intact, it’s no wonder my parents were caught up in the excitement with the American idol from Hyannis Port. I thought everyone was Catholic and I was surprised to find out later that there were a lot of people concerned about Kennedy’s ties to the Vatican. I’ll bet they didn’t like fish sticks on Friday nights or they thought maybe the Pope would call the President on his exclusive red phone and say, “Johnny, my boy, it’s time you made it a law, that everyone goes to confession!”

I probably liked Kennedy because his son, John John, was my age and I could imagine how cool it would be to have your Dad as president. My cousin, Lu Lu, couldn’t top that one and yes I do see a pattern here with the middle names again.

There were a couple of things that bugged me about JFK. I remember how excited my Dad was when Kennedy was making a speech on television, “Geri, come in here, he’s speaking!” With JFK's strong Bostonian accent, for the life of me, I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Sure I liked all the famous, “Ask not what your country can do for you…” quotes when I saw it in writing, but his accent was so strong that it always got in front of him while he was speaking. The other thing was the hair. The V05, Elvis look was going out and I dreaded my Mom trying to comb my curls into the new Kennedy wave thing.

It felt like the whole world was crying with Mom. I always cried when Mom cried and so this would be my introduction to death and grieving with someone I loved.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

As a believer, I no longer grieve in the way of the world. I know my grief is temporal in light of eternity and every day I miss those I love, it is one day closer to the moment we meet again.

It is Well With My Soul

Flood

2009-01-05T00:20:00.001-08:00

"Prayer is the breath of the new creature." Richard Baxter

My Dad's idea of a swimming lesson was to grab me and jump into the deep end of the pool. It was worse in subsequent lessons, because after the first traumatic experience I knew what to expect and I started to whimper and shake, feeling like I would certainly drown. No one can tell you are crying underwater and it's foolish to scream. You'll lose all that precious air.

I can remember my Mom protesting my Dad's method of training and her having to go back in the house after she couldn't bear to watch me as I pleaded with Dad to stop with the lesson that "only lasts 10 seconds."

I love my Dad and he's my only hope as we head towards the main drain. As I watch the tiny bubbles wiggle their way towards the atmosphere, I'm reminded that he loves me and relying on him is my only choice. He's got his arms wrapped around me and I can do nothing but trust him and try not to panic. This will all be over in a few seconds. He'll eventually lift me up as he promised.

Demons like to use the negative side of these experiences and attach them to fears today. They'll draw on those negative emotions ingrained in my being from an impressionable age to remind me of how helpless I am against the pressures of the world and its grip on me. As a new believer I had weak moments where I took my eyes off the Lord. I had panic attack flashbacks of drowning when the stresses of business and responsibilities to a wife and 3 children, would surely flood my air ways and suffocate my existence.

In my Christian walk, the Holy Spirit protected me, instructed me and reminded me through the scriptures of all God's promises.

What some would call a traumatic experience as a child, was actually a valuable lesson to be used as an adult. What the dark side wasn't banking on was that as a little boy, I would have the presence of mind to stay calm, look at my options and realize I had to rely on my Father. I loved him and he loved me and if I stayed calm and trusted him, he would soon lift me up out of the Flood.

What choice did I have?

My Own Prison

2009-01-04T01:45:00.000-08:00

"Man is not disturbed by events, but by the view he takes of them". Epictetus

Based on credible witnesses, I was not considered a problem child. Maybe a passive aggressive sort, prone to a small infraction here and there, but not at all interested in letting my parents down or my pants for a spanking.

Saturday morning bits were used in a myriad of cartoon episodes. One such bit involved pepper and sneezing. Whenever a cartoon character needed a strategic diversion, pepper in the nose always did the trick.

Being the inquisitive and experimental boy that I was, my little sister Letti would be my guinea pig as soon as I got back from the liquor store with Dad. I didn't think the whole pepper in the nose thing would really work and I just had to find out for myself. Dad must have been in a good mood or something, because he let me pick out a pack of little toy cars, while he bought his gin and tonic for the evening.

Back at home I said, "Letti?", "Letti come here." "What do want?" She responded. "I want to try something on you and see if it works." I replied.

With a three and half year difference between us and the fact she was only 2, without a track record of experiments that went south, she pretty much did everything I asked of her.

I'm sure you can see where this is going, but I want you to know, in my heart of hearts, I really didn't think I was doing something wrong. Starting to test commonly held assumptions seemed to be a natural progression as a kindergartner in this brave new world. Or so I probably convinced myself.

You should of seen the shock on my Dad's face as he opened the door to see why Letti is coughing and gagging as I stood over her waving the pepper shaker back and forth. I never even got to open that pack of toy cars. At least I didn't have to drop drawers for a fanny smack. Actually I bet you anything, Dad and Mom probably had a good laugh behind closed doors later that night.

There is something about swift judgment and payment that always seems healthy. Whether you intended wrong or not, you broke the rules. You take your medicine, make your apology and move on. From your loved ones, "Matter over, excused, no more shame, next!"

I didn't need organized religion to keep me on the straight and narrow. My mind was the best warden for my brain cells that Dad always cared about. "I don't think you have a brain cell still working." usually came as a result of a mea culpa.

Growing up, I was probably considered a "good kid" on the outside, in the world’s eyes but internally I was a convict of my own mess and personal grudges. I was my worst critic. Bottling up too much guilt and self flagellation as a child resulted in anxiety and panic attacks as a young man without a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

Old age is in store for a child that acts out instead of internalizing everything. You can't keep it all in. Guilt and shame are liquids that seek the least amount of resistance and ooze to the surface when the cracks appear. Until I let the Holy Spirit work in my life there was nothing that could free me from My Own Prison.

I had to choose to unlock the door.

Losing My Religion

2009-01-02T08:05:00.000-08:00

"Religion will send more people to Hell than all the vices in the world. More people will be in Hell because they were religious than any other single reason. Religion and Christ are in opposition to each other. Religion says man must do something, join something or have something done to him to get to Heaven. Christ says, "I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me." Jack Hyles

I wonder whatever happened to David Peletier. We were 7 years old and David was the class clown in my First Communion catechism class at Saint Rose of Lima's Catholic Church in Simi Valley.

Hollywood's best casting director couldn't have found a better actress to play the role of Sister Agnes Marie. As nuns go, she was the strictest, meanest, intimidating old woman you ever saw in a black and white habit. My distant recall can still stare in amazement at that "sour puss" face, marching back and forth through the aisles between our desks with her stick behind her back.

No wonder they call them sisters, because I can't tell you how many times I've heard from others about similar experiences with these steely women of the cloth. That would be an hilarious Saturday Night Live skit showing a nun training session at some convent in, I don't know.. say Transylvania. Can you see some nastier than thou, Mother Superior, showing all the sister wannabes how to rap a ruler across the knuckles of an upstart brat or how to scare a little kid into prayer with just one look?

So here we are learning the ins and outs of our first Holy Communion from Sister Agnes Marie. In today's class she is actually having us receive a real communion wafer. I guess it doesn't count though, because a Holy Father didn't bless the bread first, or something. She's explaining the way we're supposed to close our eyes, tilt our head back and then subtly stick our tongue out as she places the wafer in our open mouths. We're then supposed to retract the bread, close our mouths and let it sort of melt and soften to the point where we can swallow it whole. To really drive the point home, I must have heard, "Absolutely no chewing!" several times.

Did you hear that Peletier? No of course not, because you were giggling and laughing as usual, showing off to the cute Mary Lou across from you. Sure enough, it's Peletier's turn and what does he do? He not only chews, he chomps! Now I know what you're thinking. Your thinking, OK, this is the part where the nun either gives him a swat or gives his knuckles a fine rap with her stick. Right?

Sister was so angry, so insulted; she screamed, dropped her stick and with all of her might gave David a full round house slap in the face. It was so hard I was surprised his head didn't end up flying into Mary Lou's lap. I couldn't help but feel sorry for David as he was directed to a corner by one ear with tears streaming over his beet red cheek.

We were all traumatized by this ritual. Did David lose his religion that day? Did he eventually become a hardened criminal or join a gang that validated him? What is he like today? Maybe he eventually was killed because he had such a fun time rebelling against authority and not following directions. On the other hand, maybe he eventually accepted the Lord's free gift of salvation like me and gave up on man-made religion with its rituals, rules and hierarchy.

For all I know, he was never the victim again and he's a missionary in some third world country spreading the good news and gently teaching young children about God's love.

I hope so.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

2009-01-01T15:30:00.000-08:00

"If the devil were wise enough and would stand by in silence and let the Gospel be preached, he would suffer less harm. For when there is no battle for the Gospel it rusts and it finds no cause and no occasion to show its vigor and power. Therefore, nothing better can befall the Gospel than that the world should fight it with force and cunning." Martin Luther

In my youth, I had my share of fistfights. They were probably born of insecurity in my self that started with my family's move from Sylmar, California to Simi Valley in 1965.

The Los Angeles School District had an A/B schedule that depending on when your birthday hit, you either started school in September, (A) or if your birthday was in February, like mine, you started in January (B). We moved in June after only a semester of first grade, so I either had to go through another year of first grade or skip ahead straight to second.

After reviewing my grades and an I.Q. test administered by a school psychologist a few months earlier, Mr. Taylor at Lincoln Elementary in Simi, convinced my mother that it might be better for me to skip ahead to the second grade.

My teen angst started when we moved to Thousand Oaks and I entered Newbury Park High School in 1972. Having no friends, being a grade ahead and being late to the puberty phase like my father, I figured I had a lot to prove to fit in. The fighting to prove myself didn't stop until college, when my ego had figured we had finally caught up, at least physically.

"The reason why many fail in battle is because they wait until the hour of battle. The reason why others succeed is because they have gained their victory on their knees long before the battle came...Anticipate your battles; fight them on your knees before temptation comes, and you will always have victory.” Ruben Archer Torrey

Since I've trusted Jesus to be Lord in my life, I have avoided confrontation when it comes to me. I am secure in my identity as a believer and I know that God is always in control.

WARNING: If you attack my God, my country, my family and friends, we need to talk.

Say Won't You Say

2008-12-31T05:38:00.000-08:00

"So, Momma, are you going to die?"

I remember the first time I faced my mortality as a young boy. I was three years old and like many children that age, I asked my momma a lot of questions. You know that phase, why is the sky so blue and what are the clouds made of kind of thing.

After a long summer day of building tents with an old sheet and a couple of sticks in the backyard or using the hose to make rivers through the mud, I’d hear Mom call me, to come in the house for my bath.

These were my final days as an only child, because Momma’s having a baby next month and I don’t remember having as much of her attention after that. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t neglected or anything. It was just different. Letti, Terry and Kelly were born one right after the other. They were each one year apart.

Whew!

She must have been exhausted, but I never once ever heard her complain about us children being any kind of burden.

So as Momma is trying to bathe me with her belly full of baby sister Letti in the way, I start in with my next line of questioning. Now mind you, these weren’t just silly random questions that just hit my mind and came charging out of my mouth. No, I’m pretty sure while I was out in the backyard building mud dams to save all the tiny villagers from the ensuing flash flood, tidal wave, I was also contemplating some serious grownup type issues.

Always the analyzer, this was my creative roots in it's infancy. While I'm creating, I’m contemplating other things. I don’t care for my art when I think about the medium or the material or observe how I'm doing it, instead of just doing it and musing over other matters.

So I boldly asked the big question. Hey, wait a minute. I saw her double hitch on that question. Her response didn’t come as quickly as some of her other responses did. I noticed how she would get a little twitch in the corner of her mouth, when I asked her one of the tough ones.

“Yes I will sweetie, but not for a long, long time.” She said. "How long?" I asked urgently. Momma smiled. “Oh, not until I’m really, really old.” "Momma, what will happen to me when I die?" I fired back. “Well, you’ll be in Heaven with me.” She added softly. You’d think that would suffice, right? Wrong.

I was terrified.

I felt my first panic attack coming on. I remember starting to cry when she was drying me off. Momma I don’t want to die and I don’t want you to die either!

I can still feel the warmth of her arms wrapped around me as she comforted me, as she would for years to come. I can still hear her soothing, sweet voice as she would gently run her fingers across my forehead and through my wavy hair. Her memory is having the same effect on me today as it did forty five years ago.

I want you all to know, as I sit here today in this church that it doesn’t feel like a long, long time. It feels like just the other day. I guess when you’re a little kid, seventy sounds really, really old, but my mother never aged in my eyes. Her beauty will continue into eternity. The Lord will comfort her with same loving affection that she always lavished on all of us that were blessed to call her friend, wife and especially, Momma.

That night in 1962 a Mother planted a seed of faith in her little boy, that has grown into a man that hangs his heart on that promise she gave him. My faith today, believes that we don’t have to be good enough, to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. There is nothing we can do, that would make our Lord and Savior love us any more. As we get older with our sophisticated attitudes and prideful ways, we always complicate things. We over analyze and expect a complicated answer to the tough questions of life.

Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the Kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

Sometimes the easiest thing to do is the hardest. All we have to do is act like that little child that hears their name called to come in and take a bath. Our Father in heaven will cleanse us of our sins, if we just ask him and as long as we believe in him, he’ll continue to forgive us until we enter our Heavenly mansion and reunite with our loved ones forever.

Just like my Momma promised.

Like The Rain

2008-12-30T16:37:00.000-08:00

As I write this, I realize how unnerved I feel even thinking about the topic of crying. Maybe it's a generational thing with my age group, but tears were not something to be proud of as a young boy in the 60's. A lot of my self talk and subconscious echoes emanate from adolescence. I guess I eventually took over where my Father left off as the personal tour guide on the megaphone.

From my recesses, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself!" or "Don't be a cry baby." can still invite themselves at the most inopportune moments. My Father was uncomfortable with that side of me that reminded him of a place he wasn't safe. In his eyes, sensitivity, compassion, creativity and faith were all signs of weakness. Effeminate qualities were not conducive for a real man in the making, back in the day.

As any good parent or babysitter knows, there's a difference in a child's tears. You can tell by the intonation and inflection that the "pick me up" wail is not the same as the desperate scream of a searing earache. As one of my daughters became a toddler, I would wait a while before I responded to the, "My older brother is teasing me" shriek and bolt in a split second on the "I just shut the door on my finger" scream that came from the other room. I'm convinced God our Father invented this, because I can be pretty convincing to the untrained ear when praying and the Lord is never late when it's not my flesh asking for self service.

I've forgiven myself for the times I emulated my Father when my children were younger. How easy it was to do the very thing I resented when I delivered matching shame to them.

Growing up I remember the type of crying that was different than the others. It was the tears that flowed while watching the TV movie Brian's Song. The movie revealed a side of me that for the first time I wasn't ashamed for the emotions it evoked. It felt healthy to express emotions that associated with the love and compassion depicted in the movie. I always wonder if my children have already had that moment or they will.

The shortest verse in the Bible is one of the most revealing signs of God's love for us.

"Jesus wept."

Sound Of Silence

2008-12-28T16:37:00.000-08:00

In trying to recall one of my earliest fears, I thought of a terrifying nightmare I had as a 3 year old.

Every Sunday night, in the early 60's, my parents would watch the popular, Ed Sullivan Show. Ed seemed to have a somewhat regular rotation of celebrities and performers that would be on every few months. One of the regular guests that got my attention was the famous mime, Marcel Marceau.

As an adult there are a few nightmares from your childhood that you can instantly recall when the topic of bad dreams come up. It got to the point where I couldn't watch Mr. Marceau anymore. Clowns were fine, but something about mimes really unnerved me as a young child and I never consciously knew why.

One late Sunday night I was lying in bed, dreaming as if I was awake. I looked across the room in the middle of the dark. Somehow, I knew someone was hiding below my window and the moment they knew I was looking, they raised their hand straight up. The hand had a bright white glove on it, with the open palm facing me. The hand was saying hello. It wasn't waving. The fingers were just going up and down in unison. I must have exploded awake, because the next time I remember touching the carpet was my parents bedside, shaken head to toe.

These days when I read through the Bible, I'll use a different color highlighter to emphasize a verse that speaks to me. It's interesting because I'll see a verse highlighted with the florescent yellow that I used a few years ago and wonder why I chose that verse. At first glance it might seem pretty insignificant, but after some thought I'll realize what I must have been going through at that time in my life and then it makes sense.

"Do not be afraid" gets the florescent blue color every appearance it makes this year in the Word. You'd be amazed. Between the Old and New Testament, it's got to be 20 and counting. It seems like it's always the first words that the Lord or his angels say, when they first appear. I wonder how many people in biblical times missed out on being mentioned in the Bible because when they first saw an angel they just ran away terrified and said, "That's it! I'm outta here!

The reason that verse means something to me at this stage of life is because I don't want my subconscious fears to chase me away from what God wants to do in my life. I wonder how many times I ran away from self improvement and help from the Lord, because my past bad habits are so much more familiar. Sometimes in prayer, I will talk too much. Tomorrow morning, I'm just going to be still and listen.

Fearless in the Sound Of Silence.

Winds Of Change

2008-12-27T13:46:00.000-08:00

I can attest to the fear of failure in the world's eyes is worse than the reality of it with God.

Over twenty years ago I lost everything my peers deemed essential; marriage, family, business, fame and money... every thing. Caught up in the philosophy of humanism, I was the captain of my own ship, that sailed by my sheer force of will power and ambition.

Living in a roach infested tiny apartment with my pregnant wife and baby son, without a job and a dime in my checking account, I went door to door asking new homeowners if I could design and estimate a new pool in their backyard. In one year, I went from having nothing, to grossing over a million dollars in construction sales.

We were living large for a couple in their twenties. Nice clothes, plenty of cash, new house and fine cars. We hung out with celebrities, La Cosa Nostra and anyone that could party hard and live to tell about it.

Paranoia set in. Before I knew it we went into heavy debt to support our habits and new found addictions. With our two small children, my wife left me and filed for divorce. Reeling from these events, I quickly rebounded into another woman with a pending divorce and two small children of her own. The following year this woman married me and then after a month, returned to her ex-husband pregnant with my daughter. I still didn't even have a property settlement with my first wife's "family" attorney. I gave up... I was done... There were times I put myself into situations where it might have looked like an accidental death, but I'm convinced now it was a passive form of suicide.

That's when I was ready to listen. God spoke to me through the Holy Spirit and I accepted his grace through Jesus Christ.

So tell me all your dreams
And tell me all your fears
And what you're longing for the most
It's not another way
That'll end up the same, for it's under my control

Before it was too late, I saw the Winds Of Change... Have you seen it?

"I tell you the truth, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless he is born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, 'You must be born again.' The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."

Cool Change

2008-12-25T01:20:00.000-08:00

I know I can’t go back and start over but I can change my course and make a new ending.

Holy Spirit, lift me up when I'm in your will and convict me when I get ahead of you.

Satellite

2008-12-23T17:19:00.000-08:00

Lord, I'm not into angel worship or anything, but since I've been so introspective lately, I'd like to send up an "Honorable Mention" to the angel stationed (or stuck) with me throughout the fast 80's. In a reversal of roles, I tagged along with my little brother, when he went dirt bike riding at his brother in law, Tommy Lee's house.

I can remember how bad my brother, Terry and I wanted a mini-bike when we were younger. At bedtime, we would lay there in the dark, playing the game of, “What would you rather have?” Would you rather have a cool tree top fort, a horse and candy every day for the rest of your life, or a mini-bike? … Both of us rather loudly, “A MINIBIKE!” “What would you rather have?” Would you rather have a beach house, a drum set and four month summer vacation, or a mini-bike? … Again, an over the top, “MINIBIKE!”

Unlike Ralphy with his Red Rider BB gun in, "A Christmas Story", we never got that dream mini bike from our parents. My parents said they never knew a person with a motorcycle that was able to avoid an accident of some kind and so that was that.

We both learned how to ride as we got older by riding with friends. You can imagine my excited anticipation going over to Heather and Tommy's house to ride. Of course Tommy had two other dirt bikes for friends to ride and we were having a blast on the trails behind his house that afternoon.

I wonder how many crash landings were inspired by Evel Knievel. As boys we all rushed out to make our own homemade plywood ramps stacked on top of old milk cartons. I could always soar higher and farther on my bicycle than any of my buddies. So... automatically I thought I could show off my mad jumping skills and really impress the rocker Tommy Lee and make my brother proud to even be in the same gene pool as me.

"Dude, that's a nasty gash!", said Tommy as I lay in the brush, holding my shin together, writhing in pain. We were too remote for an ambulance to come pick me up and I was too embarrassed to ask for an airlift by helicopter. I ripped my shirt into a tourniquet and we all raced back to the house.

Everything after that was pretty surreal. One moment, I'm trying not to bleed all over Heather's nice floor mats as she personally escorts me to the emergency room in her Porsche. The next moment I felt guilty (not really) bypassing others in the waiting room as I was given preferential treatment, being with a star and all. It was really funny watching the nurse and Doctor's faces. You could just tell they wanted to ask me what my relationship to Heather was.

I'm grateful to Heather Locklear, but the real star in this story is you Lord. Thank you for always being my Satellite and saving my life in more ways than one. When I get to Heaven, if I didn't give him a heart attack, maybe my Guardian Angel and I can reminisce and have a good laugh about that crazy decade.

Vincent

2008-12-21T17:24:00.001-08:00

When did you realize you were given a gift from God? Parents and educators seem to be more sensitive to a child's strengths and talents these days, than they did when I was younger. Growing up there seemed to be an emphasis on conforming to some ideal that "they" came up with. You needed to work on your weaknesses until they became your strengths... Why?

I remember the joy and excitement of receiving watercolor sets, color pens, chalk and pencils as gifts. Every free moment was spent sketching and coloring. I must have been easy on my Mom. A self contained kid with the occasional ... OK, frequent mess. When I was really young, I thought everybody liked to draw and paint and we all had the same capacity as artists. As I got older I was so concerned about fitting in and being liked that I didn't value anything that made me different than the other students.

I would have to say my first revelation that I might have been blessed with an artistic bent was in 6th grade. It seemed like any other art time in class. Happily painting a cabin in the forest, I had no idea our finished projects would be judged by our teacher for an art competition. One of my old weaknesses must have been listening. You can imagine my astonishment the next day when my teacher announced, "Tim is the winner.”

Remember the adults asking you, "What are you going to be when you grow up?" I couldn't say artist. What would my parents think? Where do you think the term, "starving artist" came from? No way, I would have to think fast. What would be considered "legit" and make me respectable in their eyes? ... An architect, that's it! They not only get to sit around all day designing magnificent buildings, they also get to see their creations get built. Bonus.

When I tried to get into architecture school, I realized I was wrong. They need an engineering background with many years as an apprentice with low pay and no guarantee that you'll get any kind of shot at designing anything... That wasn't my passion.

Although I'm doing what I love in business, designing and building landscapes, my passion now is to take my gifts and turn around and send them back to the Lord in worship. Through drawing, music, acting, building and writing, I've found what Vincent longed for... inner peace and joy.

Just Got Paid

2008-12-19T20:42:00.000-08:00

I happened to see an old friend, Drew, today at lunch. He reminded me of how special we are as entrepreneurs. It's not unusual for guys to ask how business is going right after the initial perfunctory greetings. What's different about Drew is, he always inspires me every time I run into him, because of his positive and encouraging words that describe our gifts in common.

Words of encouragement are underrated. As a boy, I received a powerful blessing from my father, that propelled me into the future with confidence. It was one of those hot and lazy afternoons in the summer of '72, that I was given the chore of picking apples from a small orchard of fruit trees we had in the side yard.

As my little brother, Terry and I gathered, it dawned on me that there were more than enough apples to pick. There was way too many for our family to eat within a reasonable time, so I told Terry to go get some small paper bags from Mom while I searched for the old red wagon with the side wood slats.

Now we lived in the Lynn Ranch part of Thousand Oaks and the houses were pretty spread out. Not really efficient for maximum return on door to door sales, if you know what I mean. We walked about 2 miles to the tract homes over by Dover and Hendrix Park. I remember we sold out within the first hour. We were so excited. At 50 cents a bag, we walked in the house just in time for dinner with twenty dollars stuffed in our pockets!

I'll never forget the look on my Dad's face when we told him of our venture. He said, "Tim, I'm so proud of you and you should be proud of yourself. You'll never go hungry with the ability to sell. Even in times of depression there are always people with money and If you can figure out what it is that they want to buy, you can sell it to them." It always brought great joy to hear him brag about me to his friends, for awhile after that.

You know what's driven me all these years to be successful? It wasn't the money... It was the encouragement from someone I loved.

My Father in Heaven motivates me in the same way. Through a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, I long to hear his words, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

That's when I'll know, I Just Got Paid.

It's Not My Time

2008-12-16T20:04:00.000-08:00

In the fast 80's I was married to a Capo's daughter. I have some tales of near death experiences and harrowing moments. Today I was reminded of one time I saved a man's life... literally.

It was about 2am and I was sound asleep, when the phone rang. It's usually never a good call at that time of the night. It was my Mother-in-law and she was speaking in her subdued, but hysterical New York accent. I know that's an oxymoron, but anyways, it was like she was frantic, but she was afraid she might be heard calling me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, still not quite awake. Whispering loudly, she said, "Michael just came home. He's been drinking and he brought some strange guy with him." "So?" I replied. It wasn't like this was a total shock or anything. She started crying, "Tim, you have to come now! Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it. Please, please, come over right now!" "OK, OK, I'll be there as soon as I can." I hung up, dressed quickly and flew out the door.

Michael's mom let me in and then she quickly went upstairs. It was eerily quiet as I walked into the den. Michael was sitting in the recliner, eyes half shut, just ripped. Across from him sitting on the couch sat a man, dressed nicely, probably in his twenties like us. He didn't look or sound drunk when he smiled and said "Hello" to me. I sat at the other end of the couch, closer to Michael. "Michael, what's going on?" I whispered. "Oh, not much Tim." He said loudly. "Did you meet my buddy over there? He gave me a ride home!" and then he started giggling and mumbling something as he got up, left the room and went upstairs.

I found out later on what led up to this occasion. Michael had recently broken up with his girlfriend and this night he had gone to a few bars on Van Nuys Boulevard to desensitize. Michael had been on the "Wagon" for awhile after his armed robbery conviction at the 7 Eleven down the street. It always makes me chuckle, thinking about that incident, because his weapon of wasted choice was the ol' inebriated finger in the coat pocket trick! To top it off, the poor clerk knew it and still gave him the money.

Michael really was trying to go legit. He was just damn funny how he went about it. Just before the bar closed, he realized he was too loaded to drive. So he has this brilliant idea. He'll walk next door to a gay bar, cozy up to some unsuspecting young patron and get the guy to bring him home under the guise of a "One night stand". Oh my... excuse me while I chuckle again.

So Michael gets his free ride home, but now the guy won't leave.

Now Michael is totally the "Italian Stallion", virile, barrel chested son of Bronx tradition. He was frustrated that the gay man wasn't leaving and he was probably starting to sober up a little. Not to mention I show up unannounced and he must have been somewhat embarrassed. His next great idea?... He'll kill him...

So there I am, awkward moment and all, sitting there alone with this guy, not knowing any of this. I thought Michael must have just gone to bed. So I start asking this guy, how he knows Michael, when all of the sudden Michael walks in again with his hands behind his back. As he walks by the guy he turns toward the guy, so the guy can't see what he's hiding, but he exposes to me what he's holding... a knife!

As I leapt off the couch at Michael, he raised the knife above his head with both hands and as the blade headed straight for the guys chest he screamed at the top of his lungs, " I'm gonna kill you.!" You know that old cliche about how everything is in slow motion when something traumatic happens? Well, it's true.

The guy started screaming bloody murder, while I tackled Michael in mid-air. Michael was going berserk as we wrestled. As I was desperately trying to get the knife out of Michael's hands, I could see blood flying everywhere. Blood was whipping a stream path across the cottage cheese, acoustical ceiling as we darted back and forth in the mayhem. I didn't know if he might have got a piece of the guy or if one of us was bleeding. I couldn't feel any pain but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

The guy must have gone into shock at first, because all he did was scream at the top of his lungs, instead of running away, he just froze and screamed. As I eventually subdued Michael, the guy finally ran out... still screaming. I let Michael go when he seemed to stop and not struggle. Then he rushed out the door after the guy, screaming himself. The guy barely got away as Michael chased his BMW halfway down the street.

To make a long story short, all the blood came from Michael's sliced fingers as his hands slid over the blade in our struggle. I spent the rest of the morning with my friend in the emergency room. Experiences like that make me realize, we won't leave this world a second before God decides we will.

It wasn't my time, Michael's, or that guy's.

Mona Lisas And Mad Hatters

2008-12-13T10:53:00.000-08:00

As a young boy, I remember watching my Mom, sending out Christmas photo cards. She had a long list of friends and family that she used, to send everyone the latest photo of us kids. You know, the one that took a thousand takes, to get just one that was good enough, without one of us blinking, frowning or crying.

She had a box full of photo cards from others and I remember looking through them and realizing that I had never met or heard of a majority of them. I would say, "Who's this?", and she would say, "Oh that's a dear friend of ours, from high school.", or " We used to see them all the time where we used to live, when you were a baby."

I asked, "How good of a friend could they be if you never see them anymore?" It seemed like for them to be a good friend, you should see them on a somewhat regular basis. I will always remember her wise response. "Tim, you will always have some friendly acquaintances that will come and go throughout your life. They are the kind of relationships, that never matured or had the chance to develop. But you don't have to see your true friends and loved ones, all the time to be their friend."

As I got older and took on the responsibilities of a career, marriage and parenthood, I appreciated her insights all the more...

To all my Friends,

If I see you all the time, thank you for being a part of my life. Your humor and encouraging words strengthen and sustain me. If you don't see me very much any more, for one reason or another, please know that you go wherever I go, because your a part of what I am today.

Love,

Tim

Angels On The Moon

2008-12-10T21:47:00.000-08:00

Have you ever lost someone dear to you suddenly. It makes you cherish the moments we have with the ones that are still with us. I pray that I never lose that appreciation for life in the present... Right now.

Not what's in the past, with any regrets. Not waiting around for things to change in the future. Lord may I live in the moment!

I'm going to go kiss my children and tell them, I love them

Away From The Sun

2008-12-07T17:49:00.000-08:00

In all these years, I've gotten brief glimpses of predestination. Looking back through my life I see milestones, check points and moments that all point in the same direction ... up. There were many times I ignored the promptings, made bad decisions and generally felt I knew better.

I was destined to be part of the elect, because if I wasn't I would have screwed it up a hundred times over on my own. No matter where I turned and no matter what mistakes I made, there He was, waiting for me with open arms.

I was raised in the Catholic church with all of it's tradition, dogma and ritual. Don't get me wrong, I'm not criticizing it, I'm just giving you a reference point of where I started. One of the earliest milestones of my human career was the first time I went up to the Sequoia Forest for YMCA summer camp at 10 years old.

Up to that point all my prayers consisted of, "Now I lay me down to sleep..." as a toddler, up to memorizing Our Fathers and Hail Marys for First Communion, to reciting the sinners prayer in the dark and scary confessional, to anticipating the Priests next line at church from memory. A lot of repetition.

At camp I remember seeing camp counselors and returning campers with different color scarfs around their necks. They earned different colors for certain accomplishments and experiences. The day came to get our first scarf, a dark blue one. Before I knew it a few camp counselors hiked a group of us first timers up to a serene spot in the forest.

A young woman counselor spoke to us about faith in God and then she prayed with us. Have you ever experienced something for the first time, and yet it felt so familiar and comfortable? Well this was my first encounter with free form prayer. It was an intimate discussion with the Lord. Just like you would talk to someone that you dearly loved and already had a personal relationship with. It was absolutely exhilarating!

That was the first of many beautiful and emotional milestones, checkpoints and moments. There would be many more sprinkled amongst the valleys, dark places and failures... Away From The Son.

In My Life

2008-11-30T20:20:00.000-08:00

Today at church, Pastor Thornton asked us if we'd ever been a hero to anyone. It reminded me of one of the best gifts, I've ever received. My younger brother, Terry, gave me a framed letter that he wrote for my birthday, a few years ago. I'd like to share it with you.

The Miracle

My days as a child, I spent most of my time watching, listening and emulating my friend, my roommate, my captor, my brother. We shared secrets, we fought, and I always cared how he felt. I missed him dearly when he wasn't around. I followed him and he led me. I never left his side. I paraded around in his uniforms dreaming of one day, one day being as great as he.

We shared victories, we won championships in overtime, double overtime and even when the sun allowed, triple overtime. Roman and Franco played with us. We always fought fearlessly, and in the end, we always won. Carrying that feeling of victory wore well until the next game, the next day. I always craved for the moment when the chips were down and it seemed so impossible, so impossible to pull it out. But we did. I can still hear the announcers and I can still feel the crowd. Those lessons carried with me till today, never give up! There is always some time left on the clock.

Well those years went so quick, too quick. But I can still remember the nights, the nights that I stared into the black of the night, listening to my brother replay that day’s championship highlights. I couldn't get enough, we couldn't get enough. Each game was the biggest, each challenge was the greatest. If it could be pulled off, it would be a miracle!

The real miracle was you. Having you instill that love, life, adventure and challenge will live so deep inside me. As great as Roman and Franco were, you were greater, we were greater.

I Love You,

Your Little Brother

This letter reminds me of why I coach. Thanks for letting me be your hero, Terry. In my life I love you more!

Nobody's Fault But Mine

2008-11-26T19:34:00.000-08:00

If I dont pass anything else on to my children, I hope they got the part of me that refuses to be a victim.

It's so paralyzing, so stunting and unfaithful. God permits us to turn around any time we choose. It just takes us to take responsibility for our situations and stop making excuses and blaming others for our condition.

It would be much easier for me to blame someone else for all of the ugly and messy times of my life. If I did that though I would never move forward or grow and learn from those experiences. I would just be taking up space, waiting for the next opportunity to become someone else's lunch.

Are there bad and stupid people that are intentionally trying to hurt us? Sure, all the time. The only thing we can control is our reaction and attitude towards them. Am I going to screw up and maybe hurt someone else again? Sure I will. Not intentionally, but I'll take ownership for my part and seek to reconcile and heal the pain I've caused.

It will be, Nobody's Fault But Mine.

You've Got A Friend

2008-11-19T22:35:00.000-08:00

The year we got to know and love Darren Yui, he taught our son, Trent in 6th grade at Hillcrest Christian School. I've always been proud of Trent and his compassion for everyone. It's a blessing to see his loyalty and trustworthiness with friends and family, but this is a special memory of ours that I'm sure none of his classmates will never forget either.

Mr. Yui wanted to show his students how Jesus suffered for us and he picked Trent to illustrate. He let all the kids in the class come up front and get a donut for every ten push ups Trent did. As you can imagine, the class at first, thought it was kind of funny and they were giggling and joking around while claiming their free donuts, while Trent went 10, then 20, then 30. How cool was this?

Then it got kind of awkward... 40, then 50, then 60... Trent was physically showing the strain. Drips of sweat started to roll off his face. There was no more giggling, no more goofing around. Some students said, "That's OK, we don't need anymore donuts. Tell Trent to stop." 70... Trent was starting to groan from the shooting pain coming from his arms. 80... a few girls started crying and pleaded with Mr. Yui to make him stop. 90... Trent's whole body was starting to shake violently from the strain... 100... Trent's buddies started giving the donuts back... 110... 120... 130 ... it was too emotional for most and the kids started leaving the classroom, they couldn't handle it any longer... 140.

Trent broke down at 150 push ups... spent and exhausted, wiped out on the floor in a pool of sweat. Like I said, that visual representation of Christ's suffering and his Grace will stay with those students, the rest of their life.

It was a great lesson.

Bless Me Indeed

2008-11-12T21:41:00.000-08:00

It was 1973, I was fourteen years old and a wee 103 lbs., I tried out for the Newbury Park High School wrestling team. I had worked out with the JV team a few times and was still pretty raw and inexperienced when I got the call.

Wrestling coaches George Hurley and Art Bugg found me at lunch time in the cafeteria and asked me to fill in for first stringer, Ian, who couldn't make weight. I remember saying ok right away and then feeling sort of panicky, when I realized I wasn't the least bit prepared.

Being a little overweight myself, I recall them putting me into a real heat/sweat suit and having me run around the track a few times and then go in the locker room and sit in a blistering hot whirlpool unit. As the team bus traveled north along the coast to Santa Barbara High School those butterflies they talk about in your stomach felt more like vultures.

As I waited in my "tighty whities" to weigh in, some older more experienced team mate told me to suck in as much air as I could as I stepped onto the scale. I kind of looked at him incredulously, like you gotta be kidding me. I was amazed to see that it was true, you actually are lighter, holding a big breath instead of exhaling. I thought it would have been the other way around.

Some guys threw up anticipating a match, but not me. I was running to the bathroom every 5 minutes to pee. I remember being so scared that when the referee blew the whistle to start my match, I knew I couldn't run away so I ran as fast as I could, right at the poor guy and tackled him and held on in pure terror.

I set the meet record that day for the fastest pin... 47 seconds!

Moments like those growing up framed my life. I can associate with Jacob in Genesis 22:24-31:

Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

I have striven with God and with humans and prevailed. He has Blessed Me ... Indeed.

Drive

2008-11-10T22:34:00.001-08:00

Something In The Way She Moves

2008-11-05T22:20:00.000-08:00

I can always count on my wife to be there for me. Many couples go through hard times and either grow apart or become stronger. I can honestly say we're part of the latter group.

One of the best things we've done for our relationship lately, is to take the time to pray for each other in the morning. What a blessing it is to call her later in the day to share a victory, a challenge or an answer to prayer.

She doesn't have to know everything about my profession. She knows my heart and it's encouraging to share my business dealings with her and get her honest feedback. She doesn't always tell me what I want to hear, but it's good sometimes to get an outside opinion, especially from someone you love and trust.

After 20 years, she knows me and when I need encouragement she's the one I turn to.

It's Something In The Way She Moves...

Midnight Blue

2008-11-01T17:37:00.000-07:00

My first car was a '67 Camaro. It was 1975 and I was in High School, working as a dishwasher at Lupe's Mexican Restaurant on Thousand Oaks Boulevard. My Dad wouldn't buy me a car, so I had to save up to purchase my dream car.

He said, "You'll appreciate it a lot more, if you work for it and buy the car yourself." It was hard seeing friend's parents buy them cars, while I drove my Mom's flesh colored, '63 Dodge Station Wagon jalopy.

Making $2.45 an hour, it took a lot of clean taco plates and birthday card cash, to save up my goal of $500. I found the Camaro in an ad in the News Chronicle. The only problem was the guy wanted $850. I made the "all in" $500 offer, but was swiftly rejected. How disappointing... I continued to search.

About two weeks later the guy called me back and said if I still wanted it for 500 bucks, he'd let it go. Yessss!

That was a gift my Father gave me. I didn't understand it at the time and it seemed unfair and I couldn't see the benefits then. God, our Father does the same thing with us. He doesn't necessarily, always give us what we want, but he always gives us what we need.

Sometimes, we whine and complain. We feel sorry for ourselves, but we never grow in those situations. We don't see how he is preparing us for a greater blessing. Something that lasts forever and doesn't rust or fade.

Cat's In The Cradle

2008-10-22T22:10:00.000-07:00

"Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me." Mark 9:37

When I was three years old my Dad took the time to do, what must have seemed like such a simple thing to him. Every two or three weeks on a Saturday, Dad made a ritual of taking me for a Cupid Hot Dog after we got our hairs cut at the Barber Shop. What a wonderful memory that is for me to remember spending special time with my Dad. It's not what we did that mattered. It's that he took the time to do something with me that was "our thing". Almost half a century later and those moments are as vivid in my mind's eye as if they happened yesterday.

So I'm down in the San Fernando Valley a couple of Saturdays ago. I had just got done with a sales call and decided to look for a place to get a good hot dog and realized I wasn't too far away from the apartment I used to live in, when my son John was born. There was a Flooky's Hot Dogs down the street. Twenty two years ago, when my son John was two years old I used to take him down there for a Hot Dog on Saturday afternoons.

Recently my Son and I had parted ways in business and I didn't help matters much by working a lot and not making our relationship a priority. By the time I realized that, my son was then always too busy for me. I took a shot and called John, hoping to catch him and invite him to get a dog with me at our old hangout. Well he wasn't available, but I left a message and reminded him of those happy memories we had in common. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I said something like, "Let's find the time to get together." I also wanted to see my Grandson. Then I prayed.

To make a long story short, he called me back and said he looked forward to having a dog with me. He brought his family over last Saturday to celebrate my grandson, John Carlo's second birthday. Where did we go?

Sushi!

I bet you thought I was going to say Hot Dog. Oh how the times are a changing! No worries though we'll catch up on tradition and get my Grandson over to Weinershnitzel real soon.

"You may speak but a word to a child, and in that child there may be slumbering a noble heart which shall stir the Christian Church in years to come." Charles Spurgeon

Old Man

2008-10-18T16:42:00.001-07:00

My parents generation came out of the Great Depression. They were raised with a different perspective on the value of a dollar, saving and the virtue of hard work.

Baby Boomers have not had to face the same uncertainty and poverty that they dealt with. We have benefited from their stability, their work ethic and frugality.

Lately I've noticed how our parent's generation is passing away and leaving their savings to us. I know there are always the exceptions, but as a whole we are like the lottery winners, that fritter away all of their winnings because we didn't have the same value system as our parents generation.

I think this will be accentuated now as we enter a time of economic recession, stock market upheaval and job losses. I know God is in charge and maybe he is preparing us to depend on Him, but still learn from our parents while they're still with us.

She is His Only Need

2008-10-14T20:22:00.000-07:00

I am married to the most beautiful woman. Inside and out, Susanne has all the qualities a man could ever ask for. She has stood by me for 20 years, never wavering in her support, loyalty and honesty.

Through her the Lord answered my prayer when I was at the lowest point of my life. I had failed at marriage and in business and I almost gave up. I couldn't have imagined the life I have now. Is it perfect? No, but I wouldn't want it perfect.

As we grow older, our marriage feels like a fine wine, aging together as one. What has always driven me, is to give her everything she wants and to hear her say she is proud to be my wife.

She is My Only Need...

Photograph

2008-10-12T03:29:00.001-07:00

In You

2008-10-09T17:31:00.000-07:00

After a breakfast meeting this morning, with some Christian brothers, I was moved after reading the second half of Hebrews 10 with the group. It was a call to us Christians to persevere.

It reminds me that my identity is not wrapped up into my possessions here on earth, but that I have an eternal possession in Christ.

I asked our group as well as myself a rhetorical question; "How would we live our life's today, if we knew for sure that Jesus was coming tomorrow?"

Verse 35 says,

"So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised."

I put my hope in You, I lay my life in palm of your hand.

All Fired Up

2008-10-04T01:19:00.000-07:00

I can feel it. He's molding me, shaping me and refining me from the inside out. He's always been there; the only difference is; now I'm letting him make me over.

It's not always easy, because sometimes I have to let go of something’s about myself. I have to take responsibility for the influences I've allowed to enter my life. I have to admit where I've failed and forgive myself as well as others.

Use me Lord. I want to serve you and make a difference in your name. Not for my glory but yours. I'm going with this momentum... I'm All Fired Up

One Day Makeover

2008-09-30T01:36:00.000-07:00

Storm

2008-09-24T01:42:00.000-07:00

I met with the family yesterday and they are very grateful to all of us for our gracious offer to help them. Mrs. Dominguez is a widow in her eighties that is home from the hospital recovering from surgery. Her daughter Anna has moved back into the home with her two teenage daughters, to care for her mother. Daughters, Amanda, 17 and Jewel, 15. They are the original owners and Anna shared fond memories of growing up in the home and memories of her father. Mrs. Dominguez was proud of some of the work that her husband did around the house like building the brick fireplace and some woodwork moldings in the kitchen.

Anna has quite a collection of pets like Turtles, Doves, Parrots, Cats and Dogs in the home and out in the yard.

The neighborhood is fairly nice and located near Oxnard College. There has been no upkeep to the backyard and ivy from one neighbor has overcome one side of the yard and has started to even come into the house through some interior wall outlets. There is a lot of trash and some interior work also. Attached is a list of projects and then a list of tools and materials needed.

Please enter your last name and the quantity you can bring and email back to me.

Thanks,

Tim

Strong Tower

2008-09-21T18:12:00.000-07:00

Our new Pastor, Shawn Thornton, spoke today. His sermon was called, Voices: Hearing God's Voice in the Middle of All the Noise.

1. The Voice of the Status Quo

Expect God to do Extraordinary stuff with Ordinary things.

I shouldn't be surprised by the extraordinary things that have happened to me in my life. They usually come out of ordinary situations. No crowds or applause for me, just remarkable outcomes when I least expect them.

I'm learning to thank the Lord for these small miracles and to give Him the glory and thank him when they happen. I think he's always been there, working in my life. I was just not paying attention.

2. The Voice of Good Intentions

Avoid People who talk tough in the beginning and fizzle out in the end.

My wife and I were just talking about this. We have some friends that seem to have good intentions, but we can't always count on them to follow through like us. We should build relationships with more people that are like minded. Or at least feel like we can talk to our friends about it without fearing their rejection. If they are offended, they probably weren't really friends to begin with.

3. The Voice of Opportunity

Commit to doing the right thing for the right reasons.

I have to be careful on this one. I'm currently considering a new business venture and I had to stop and consider my motivations for working charity into the business. I had to ask myself if I was only doing that to insure God was involved and that he would protect the business.

The enemy will usually try to trip me up by questioning my motivations and I'm considering that also. Anyways it's still a great first question to ask when opportunity knocks.

4. The voice of Criticism

Swap those who pull you down for those who point you forward.

Coaching Football for years has taught me a lot about positive exhortation. Even still just the other day watching my son play in a football game, I just wanted to run on to the field and give him my obligatory, "Good Job" and then go into a litany of critiques.

He didn't need that though, he just needed to know that I was there for him, cheering for him and to highlight the good things. He always did better with encouragement than criticism.

5. The Voice of Reason

Recall what God has done to remember what God can do.

I'm doing good on this one. About a year ago I started keeping a journal of my prayer requests. I'm telling you this is amazing. To see how the Lord has answered my prayers in writing is a great way to have confidence in Him for the future.

6. The Voice of Intimidation

Calculate your odds by the size of your God, not the size of your giant.

Shawn Thornton used the scripture about David and Goliath to drive this point home. David was fearless in the face of "insurmountable odds", because of his faith in the size of his God. Of all these voices if I just hear this one, I will find true contentment.

Lord, You are my Strong Tower and I'm Listening to You Only

Have You Ever Seen The Rain?

2008-09-18T20:50:00.000-07:00

I sometimes take for granted how blessed I've been to live in a country that gives me the opportunity to start my own company. To make a living and provide for my wife and children. To have good food and a nice home to live in.

There are times when I'm not content just living a comfortable life though.

In recent years, I've gone on mission trips to Mexico to help the poor. My heart breaks when I see children living in poverty. I want to help them all, but I know I can't.

Even though I might have a lot more material wealth, there are many Spirit filled Believers in Mexico that are living richer lives than myself. They are sharing the love of Christ with whoever will listen. They are spreading the good news and helping people even poorer than themselves. I am humbled by their exemplary lives and I am always grateful to serve.

I have seen the rain coming down on a sunny day... been that way for all my time

Show me Your Glory

2008-09-15T23:54:00.000-07:00

I caught a glimpse of Your splendor

In the corner of my eye

The most beautiful thing I've ever seen

And it was like a flash of lightning

Reflected off the sky

And I know I'll never be the same

Show me Your glory

Send down Your presence

I want to see Your face

Show me Your glory

Majesty shines about You

I can't go on without You, Lord

When I climb down the mountain

And get back to my life

I won't settle for ordinary things

I'm gonna follow You forever

And for all of my days

I won't rest 'til I see You again

Show me Your glory

Show me Your glory I can't live without You

Third Day

Don't Look Back

2008-09-13T22:16:00.000-07:00

God made me. He designed me with certain gifts and abilities. He had a plan for my life, but he also gave me free will.

What have I done with what he has given me? Have I discovered everything about myself? Are there untapped gifts I have yet to unveil and share?

Jesus promised to send a helper, the Holy Spirit to guide us in everything, as believers. I forget about that sometimes. I believe the Spirit has shown me how to use my gifts to further His kingdom.

In light of eternity, my life will be like a mist. What will my legacy be? How will I be remembered? I heard someone say that you should write your own eulogy and after you write all the things that you want to be remembered for, you should then work your way back from there to now and realize what you should be doing now to reach that goal.

I have to answer these questions before it's too late, because before I'll know it, I'll be standing before the Lord in Heaven and I want him to be proud of me... I love Him. I know I made it in by His grace and not because I was "good enough". It is because I accepted his forgiveness and I believe that he died and rose again.

I will rise again ... Don't Look Back

Long as I Can See the Light

2008-09-09T23:16:00.000-07:00

In the last few years I've had the opportunity to go on some 8th grade historical field trips to the east coast with my son's classes as a chaperone.

Via bus, going through the Pennsylvania countryside at dusk one evening, I was struck by the myriad of homes with candles in their windows. Instantly I started humming a favorite Creedence song from my childhood.

"Put a candle in the window, cause I feel Ive got to move.Though I'm going, going, Ill be coming home soon,long as I can see the light."

It put me in a melancholy mood and at the same time it comforted me. To find peace and to be haunted at the same time, sounds contradictory, I know, but I somehow knew that it was one of those moments in my life that would connect to my past.

If I was away from home, would my family miss me? Would they still love me and would they wait for me? The candle in the window meant they were giving me a sign. They still had hope that I was alive and they wanted me to see the light from a distance. It would guide me.

As I get older, I realize my Father in Heaven, Our creator has built this emotion into me. Jesus Christ is the candle in the window. He is guiding me and letting me know that he loves me and he is patiently waiting for me to come home.

Heaven is our home... Put the Candle in your window.

I Pray

2008-09-07T21:23:00.000-07:00

In coaching and watching my son, Trent, for years play youth football, it was always a joy to see him at the end of the game ask a couple of Christian buddies to go out to the center of the field to pray. Sometimes it would just be two of them, sometimes three or four and sometimes half of the team and even some players on the other team.

Both of my sons now play High School Football for Oaks Christian and team prayer with all of the players and all of the coaches is the norm. Wow!

I don't think most of us realize the real power of prayer. We don't pray to change God's mind, we pray that he will change ours. We ask him for his grace and protection. We want to be part of his plan and we want to have a relationship with him, where we can approach him for advice and tell him how much we love him and depend on him. As a parent, I get that, don't you? Especially with teenagers!

Daily prayer and reading the Word has prevented me from swerving and losing my focus. I've learned to be content in good times and bad times. Believe it or not, I actually thank him for the bad times too. He won't give me anything He doesn't think I can handle and I learn to trust him more and more with each trial He pulls me through.

I pray to make it through the day...

Right Here

2008-09-06T21:35:00.000-07:00

I have an adopted son named Darren that I miss very much.

Darren left our family a few months ago, for Africa. He is part of a mission to teach and minister to, the children of Uganda.

Darren is my Hero.

In Matthew 19: 16-30, the rich young ruler asked Jesus what it took to be saved. The Lord was able to isolate the stumbling block rather quickly. He finally asked him to sell everything he owned and then follow him. He wouldn't go that far.

There are many people that can "talk the talk" but can't "walk the walk". Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with material possessions in and of themselves. It's just when they become more important than trusting God to take care of your needs.

I thank the Lord for the day he brought Darren into our family. His has been a shining example of a Christian that would give his life to save others. No matter where Darren is, he will always be in our hearts...

He'll always be "Right Here"

Holding Back the Years

2008-09-03T22:03:00.000-07:00

Dear John & Micaela,

Over 20 years have passed since you sat on your Grandmas lap for this photo. Time passes so quickly, that I have moments that literally take my breath away when I see a photo like this and consider the past.

It feels like I'm suffocating. Like I'm drowning. It's a panic attack and I know why.

I realize I can't go back in time and I can't fix this one. There is no making it better or changing the outcome by sheer force or will power. Either by self preservation or emotional denial I am the type of person that shoves a lot of hurt and pain into the innermost recesses of my soul. Inevitably those memories will resurface when I least expect them and usually they want to remind me of my past failures.

Seeing you every other weekend for years was not enough. It wasn't fair to you children to have a part time father. I should have had more of an influence in your formative years. Please forgive me.

John, your a grown man now, married and you gave me my first Grandson. I'm so proud of you and what you've accomplished in your life. Everyone always compliments me when they see what a courteous and personable man you are. I know we've had our moments, but I want you to know, no matter what, I'll always be here for you. I love you.

Micaela, you're an amazing, beautiful and intelligent young woman. I don't think there's a limit to what you can accomplish, when you set your mind to it. Don't give up on the degree! I love you.

I don't know if you remember the date, but on July 20, 1996, I asked both of you if you believed that Jesus Christ died for your sins and rose from death to give you eternal life with him in paradise. You both accepted His free gift and I was honored to be part of that momentous occasion.

Oh, by the way, if I passed along any of my previously mentioned emotional issues to either one of you, there's good news. Whenever the enemy wants to throw my shortcomings in my face, as a believer, I remind myself of who I am now in Christ. I'm forgiven and nothing in this universe can separate us from His love...

...Then the anxiety subsides and the joy returns.

I'll keep Holding On,

Dad

My Baby

2008-09-01T23:46:00.000-07:00

My Daughter is the "Apple of my Eye".

I can't remember praying for anything as diligently as I did for this baby girl. Susanne and I were blessed with two young sons and our third child was to be the last. I want the Lord to know I will never forget how he answered my prayer with Bailee.

Before I had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, I would pray. I would only go to God if I really wanted something from him. I would ask him for things like he was some kind of "Genie in a Bottle" or a "Cosmic Santa Claus", only to turn around and question his existence if he didn't give me what I wanted or wonder if it would have happened anyways if he did.

Have you ever had one of those reflective moments where you look back through your life and realize how thankful you are that he didn't give you what you wanted? You know, the thing you wanted so badly you could almost entertain the thought of "giving your little finger" to obtain it, only to realize it wouldn't be the best thing for you now.

Now I'm thankful for everything. Even the bad stuff. It teaches me. These days through prayer I always get my answer. It's either yes, no or not right now.

I'm forever grateful that my Baby was a ... Yes.

Simple Man

2008-08-31T20:29:00.000-07:00

As I get older a simpler life seems more attractive every day. The things that seemed so important as a young ambitious man are fading. I guess I'm yearning to be free. Free from all the stress the world has to offer.

Jesus is guiding me, teaching me through his word and other believers, about real, abundant living. A life that at its core is simple, meaningful and can leave a legacy for my children and their children.

It seems like I'm actually going backwards. I'm returning to childlike qualities; quiet reflective moments, time outs to appreciate God's creation and listening more.

I am a Simple Man.

I want to be a Fisher of Men

2008-08-25T22:40:00.000-07:00

I really enjoy spending time with my sons, fishing, camping and hunting. I'm very blessed.

She's all I need...

2008-08-01T00:50:00.000-07:00

I love my wife.