Oh say, can you see?

I’ve been retired from the military for 4½ years now. I live far enough away from the local Air Force base that I don’t ever go there. However, I recently decided to go back to college and I chose one that just happens to hold classes on the base. So once a week I go to class and I get to see military life once again.

Today I got to class early and was sitting in my truck when I heard a trumpet blowing over the base’s public address system. It was the same sound that plays on every Air Force base in the world at 5PM every week day. The ditty played by the trumpet signals the end of the duty day, and right after it finishes the National Anthem is played.

What happens then is something everyone should see. The base stops. Literally, everything stops. Every person outside snaps to attention and faces the music. Those in uniform present a sharp salute while the music plays. Civilian clad people put their right hand over the heart. Every vehicle pulls over to the side of the road and the passengers sit at attention.

It's incredible to witness.

It’s a daily ritual for those who live and work on base. But for someone like me who hasn’t seen this in many years it was a reminder of the love our service men and women have for this country. Their reverence for our National Anthem is nothing compared to their willingness to defend the freedoms we all enjoy every day.

It’s not a game to them, or a political statement. It’s defending the Constitution of the United States and the principles it sets forth. They are willing to die for this country because they know our way of life hangs in the balance, and if they didn’t do what they do, America would be a very different country.

Good or bad, for better or worse, the United States of America is truly the greatest, smartest, bravest bunch of people on planet Earth. And the reason we’re so blessed is because we founded this country on Biblical principles, and as we see those principles slowly removed from our schools and legal system and television and movies, we can only expect the greatness of this country to slowly go away with them.

“God, thanks for blessing this country so much. Please help those of us who are still working to keep it great, and protect those who are fighting to keep it safe. Amen.”

What's in a nose?

I have to make a confession. I have an addiction. I didn’t think I did, until tonight, but it’s true. I am addicted to… Breathe Right strips. Whew, I said it. I wasn't sure I could admit it.

It’s true; I am completely dependent on these little things to sleep at night. I have a deviated septum, which in layman’s terms means my little brother took a poke at me when I was 15 and bent my nose. I haven’t been able to breathe very well since then.

The bad part about having a defective shnoz is that I invariably snore. Loud. No, really loud. Thunderously loud actually. An A-bomb going off in the next room would make less noise. The only thing that keeps my wife in the same bed with me is the fact that she cranks up just as many decibels as I do. Sorry honey, I’m not going down alone.

I realized how much I rely on these things tonight when I was getting ready for bed and suddenly realized I was out of them. Panic set in. How was I going to sleep? I’d be waking myself up all night snoring loud enough to rattle the shingles… on my neighbor’s house!

My wife told me to look in my travel bag to see if there were any left from my trip last week. I tore into the bathroom and ripped open the cabinet where my travel bag lives when we're at home. I unzipped it and began digging through the contents: travel sized shampoo and conditioner, tooth paste, mouth wash, floss, comb, Q-tips, etc. Then, there it was, on the very bottom. A Breathe Right strip! Salvation had arrived and civilization was once again safe.

I put on the strip and copious amounts of air whooshed into my nostrils unabated. AAAAH!

It was then I realized I was addicted to them, and knowing that the first step was to admit it, I went to my office and wrote this.

Do you think there’s a 12 step program I could get in to? I know, I know: steps 1-11: stop being a shmuck. Step 12: stop using the strips. Ha ha, very funny.

I'm going to bed now.

The Long and Winding Road

It’s been a few days since I’ve written. I travel at times for business, which I enjoy. There’s something about staying at a hotel that appeals to me. Perhaps it’s arriving back at my room after a day of grinding my nose to find a neatly made bed and fresh towels in the bathroom.

It’s a simpler life on the road; an early morning buffet breakfast, and a short drive to the job site, lunch on the company and then back to my room where dedicated house keepers have whisked away the mess I created the day before. Another meal on the company and the evening is mine to explore the city I’m in or just relax in my room and watch a movie.

I know, rough life, right? I try not to lose sight of what’s important when I travel to these places and live the pampered life. I think about Paul, the consummate road warrior and how he spent years traveling to many countries planting churches and spreading the Good News.

He lived by the goodness of others, inspired by Christ and motivated by a Savior who gave him a mission he didn’t take lightly. He didn’t have his bed made for him every day, he didn’t have an expense account, he traveled coach and he never knew if his arrival would be met with compassion, or stones.

There are still people like Paul on this Earth. People who don’t need, or ask for much. Their desire is to spread the Gospel by any means possible.

These people are my heroes, and when I travel I always do my best to tell at least one person about the saving grace of Jesus. Because we can all be road warriors, even if it’s just crossing the street to talk to our neighbor.

“God, thanks for the work you’ve given us. Give us the courage to talk to others about you, even when we’re not at home. Amen.”

Hello, Information? Can you tell me where my phone is?

I lost my cell phone last weekend. For anyone who has ever done this you know what a traumatic experience it is. I hadn’t had the phone very long, and although it wasn’t an iPhone or anything, it had a camera and an MP3 player and all the necessities for mobile communications. Plus, I had customized it with a Spurs NBA logo background and downloaded tunes that I would now have to pay for again.

However, the biggest problem in losing one’s cell phone is the loss of phone numbers. Like most people I completely rely on my phone to be my phone book and had long since forgotten the phone number of every friend and relative I have, so this was a devastating blow.

I lost my phone at a gas station. I was returning from working on my church’s 15 year anniversary project, a Habitat for Humanity house. It had been a long, hot, sweaty day laying decking material on the roof and I was tired and ready for a swim in Satan’s Bathtub.

I stopped at a gas station to fill up and the phone must have dropped out when I got out of the truck because it was gone when I got home. At first I thought I’d left it in the truck because I had called my wife before I stopped for gas. So I called the phone in hopes it would ring from under the seat or something.

It didn’t ring. It went straight to voicemail which meant it was turned off.

This was a bad sign. If it fell out of the truck and hit the ground maybe the battery popped out, then I could see it being shut off, but if someone found it and turned it off on purpose that meant they had no interest in returning it.

I went back to the gas station and it wasn’t lying on the ground anywhere, and the people inside said no one had turned one in. I went home and resided myself to the fact that it was gone.

After an hour or so of morning my loss (read: complaining to my wife that I had lost my stupid phone), I went to the cell phone store and bought another one. They turned off the old device and turned on the new one in about 15 minutes and I was on my way again, numberless but still mobile.

The next day was busy. My buddy Mark Swayze, an awesome Christian and incredible musician had invited me to play drums for his band at a youth event at a local church. I love playing these events because youth rallies are usually high energy and loads of fun.

Well, during the performance I felt my new phone vibrating in my pocket. I looked real quick just to see if it was important, like my mom calling or something, but it wasn’t a number I recognized. That wasn’t saying much though, I knew no numbers! And since I hadn’t retyped any of my numbers back in yet it could’ve been anyone.

I waited until the rally was over before I checked my voicemail. What I heard blew me away, it was a guy saying his kids had found a cell phone on the other side of town at a Wendy’s drive-thru. He took it from them and found the number inside and called to return it.

I couldn’t believe it; someone actually took the time to investigate the phone and try to return it!? I called the gentleman and he even volunteered to meet me anywhere I wanted.

I was ecstatic! My phone! My awesome phone with all of my phone numbers and Spurs background and downloaded tunes was safe and sound and being returned to me! I could barely contain myself the rest of the night!

The next morning I went to the meeting place we had agreed on and he showed up without a hitch. No strings, no requirements, no demands; just “Here’s your phone”. I wanted to show him my gratitude, so I offered to give him some money for his trouble (because I thought kissing him in public might not sit well with him). He said no, but I insisted that gas was expensive and he should let me give him some cash. He very reluctantly accepted and we parted.

With my faith in humanity renewed I trekked over to the cell phone store and had my phone reactivated. All was right in the world again. Well, world hunger and a war in Iraq not-withstanding. At least I had found hope here in my home town with one very honest, humble person who went out of his way to simply do the right thing. If we would all act that way towards one another there would be no war, no poverty, no crime, no hate. It’s possible.

All we have to do is one good deed at a time.

"God, thanks for moments like this when goodness triumphs over the bad in us. I needed that".

70 Virgins

I hear the terrorists talk about their holy war and it really makes me sick. They think if they blow themselves up and kill everyone in the building they'll go to heaven to be with 70 virgins. What kind of logic is this? Their reward for murdering innocent people is to do something that is a crime to them while they're here on Earth?! Seriously, they have very strict moral standards, but if they can destroy an "infidel" the rules change? What kind of God is this that doles out multi-partner sex as a reward for killing yourself and others in his name? Oh, yeah... Satan. Well, let me save you the trouble of building your bombs, here are the 70 virgins that are really waiting for you.