I run so others can eat

Well, it's fall and that can only mean one thing: I'm running a race of some sort.

I caught the bug two years ago when I ran the Marine Corps Marathon in DC. It's tough to shake it once you get it. I think the only sure way to break free of it would be to irreparably break my legs. And then I'd hire someone named Dragon to carry me across the line.

This year, I'm running with a group. A pack. A herd of people from Devonshire running a various assortment of distances: 1 is running the full marathon; 5 are running the half marathon; & 2 are running the 5 k. As we each finish, I'm sure we'll make our way over to cheer on the marathoner... it is a joy to see them finish. And sometimes to carry them.

Well, this year, the gaggle of us have decided that our running should be worth something. You know, you finish these things and you get your mylar blanket and your medal, and though a feeling of accomplishment is great, what has it mattered? So, we decided to run to raise money for WorldVision's efforts to dig wells in Africa.

After a race, all you want is to sit down and to have a drink of cool water. What a blessing it is for us to live a part of the world that water is abundant & CLEAN! The organization that we are raising money for uses vast resources in order to dig wells in Africa, so that the children and families there have a chance at a healthy life. They walk miles a day to get water from ditches that is not fit to be our sewage.

If you would like to sponsor us, please give here: http://www.firstgiving.com/dmcteamworldvision. If you cannot give at this time, please keep us in your prayers.

I think its weird...

I think its weird that we won't raise the Titanic to respect those who died inside, but we'll plunder the tombs of pharaoh... Is there some kind of rule about this?

No one will ever put Baby in the corner again...

Patrick Swayze may have been the first sex symbol for my graduating class. I was reflecting on Swayze's passing and thinking about when I first heard about him. I was in fourth grade, in Mr. C's class at Linglestown Elementary, and I remember Beth Ryan talking about him in ways that I don't think I had ever heard someone else my age talk about anyone, celebrity or otherwise. I did not have these feelings towards anyone, and here was Beth talking about her deep colorful love for him. Oh, and George Michael. They were both on the same level, and she would gladly makeout with either of them.

Weird.

I was just trying to figure out how to get through multiple levels of Legend of Zelda, and made sure I got to the mall to get the new Spider-Man (there was even talk of a grey Hulk!) I had no clue you could talk about adults like this. Sure, in third grade I had been in the "congregation" of many a "wedding" held on the back porch of our playground. But whenever it came time to "kiss the bride", all of our faces got tied up, like we had just eaten a lemon, and the boys ran while the girls chased. It was one of those "free-for-all/defend-yourself-to-the-last" type situations.

But fourth grade, things changed and I think Beth led the way. She seemed pretty ahead of us. At least, she talked like she did. She had seen Dirty Dancing a lot, and would continue to see it, she said, until she knew exactly what to say in case she ever did run into Mr. Swayze. I even remember for a day she wanted us to call her Mrs. Swayze!

I'm really not sure what happened to Beth Ryan, or a lot of the kids I went to elementary school with. I don;t know that she ever got her shot to talk to Patrick Swayze. She seemed so much older than us, like she actually knew what she was talking about. I had no clue about a lot of what she talked about. Maybe she just wanted to be rescued. Like Baby, maybe she was put in the corner and she saw her knight in tight jeans and rolled up t-shirt sleeves.

Or maybe she was just a fourth grader with no clue about she was talking about.

(For the record, I really thought she did, though.)

On 2nd Street last night

It was very surreal seeing Joe last night. Joe and I had been friends from kindergarten 'til about 6th grade. I was on my way to see Luke's show at Dragonfly last night when I got called over to that new Orleans themed bar by a guy I had not seen since he had a slight mental breakdown while we were in high school. I hadn't even noticed who was with him until he told me. There was Joe and another guy whom I had also not seen high school, a bully if ever there was one. Joe was surprised to see me, perhaps as mush as I was at seeing him, now confronted with one part of my past I had been unwilling to give up but was, instead, wrenched away from me.

Joe and I grew up in similar sets of circumstances. We were those kids who were never out of each other's sights. For 5 straight summers we alternated between each other's houses for sleepovers. He went down one path, and I went another. I might eb bold enough to say that he went down a path I was not allowed to go down.

I remember the first time I was offered a cigarette. Joe and I were walking with two guys through the old neighborhood. Actually, the guy who was with him last night, was the one who offered me my first cigarette. Joe grabbed it out of his hand before I could even answer and said "No" for me. I didn't know it at the time but Joe had already been smoking for about a month.

For whatever reason he wouldn't let me join him.

As we went through school I barely saw him in junior high or high school. Our schedules separated us, as I took harder and harder classes, and Joe ended up playing catch up. We were friendly, but his new friends kept offering him new things, things I didn't want to be a part of. Not because I was better or stronger in any way. I was scared of those things and their consequences.

I never saw Joe scared.

Except for that one time when we were gonna spend the night in his backyard in the tent until we saw the bat. We slept inside that night.

It was surreal seeing him there under the gaudy lights. They related stories that they had heard about me, that I was married, but they didn't know for how long, thinking it had just occurred. Or that I had two girls.

There was so much I wanted to ask him. Where had he been? I had heard stories, were they true? What about that job I got for you, but that you never showed up to for training? Given the chance, I would've sat down all night and just listened as he told me where he had been, and what he had been doing.

I don't think he owes me an explanation - I'm just curious.

What happens to the kids that didn't fear consequences? What happens to the boys who weren't aware that they were growing up while they made their decisions?

If I ever had the sense of Peter Pan's Lost Boys, I met three of them last night.

I admire

I admire those parents, and would-be parents, who have such lofty goals as to how they are going to raise their children. They have determined in finite ways what their child will be exposed to. And that is commendable.

However, I think its more commendable to extend grace. We do not know what lies ahead for our kids. We can plan and furrow our brows and set to the chalk board many a scheme. So maybe this brings us back to a problem I've mentioned before about American sense of Democracy... you're free to do whatever as long as we choose it for you.

Anyway, I've just finished talking to two other guys and they have commendable goals for their kids. Their children will not read certain books, for instance. Again, commendable. But I wonder where it stops. The books in question, which have to do with a certain young wizard and friends, have some questionable stuff (like how the hero is constantly lying), but is it able to be cut away? Will their children instead be ok if allowed to read Dostovesky (Crime and Punishment, after all is about a murder). Or what about Lewis' Narnia series? There is magic in there, of the same sort of Potter's, and perhaps a bit more otherworldly as Potter's is Latin, and Narnia's is deeper still.

And, I know what you're thinking, as I'm thinking it too: It's all about the author's intent! Are they Christians?

Well, have you read Andrew Peterson's books? Honestly, I've only read the first one, but it was pretty dark, and I did not find Jesus in it.

And Hugo, whom I love, was Catholic. (I know, I know).

And Dostovesky was Orthodox.

And Lewis was Anglican; Tolkein was Catholic (I know, I know).

So, which Christians are you allowed to read?

Hmmm.... what is the major concern? Is it, perhaps, that our kids will come to us with questions we don't have answers for? And what good are we if we don't have the answers?

Or is it something else?

I'm not saying that I want my kids to listen to Black Sabbath or read Palahniuk, or even Rowling. But I hope that when they do hear it, they will be able to discern the truth from the lie in all things, from the book spine to the pulpit. And this doesn't necessarily mean that I plan on exposing them to all kinds of stuff. I just want them to be prepared, and to know the truth and to be ready to give an answer for what they believe.

What do you say?