RefuJesus-The Commentary

There's an old saying, if at first you don't succeed... I put it to the test today at Broadmoor Presbyterian Church in Shreveport. The sermon I preached today, "RefuJesus" is a version 2.0. I preached it three years ago at First-Marshall after having learned several lessons. Let me tell you what I learned and what I changed.

This time, I was certain to tell the congregation in no uncertain terms that this concept, the refugee status of Jesus and the Holy Family in Egypt was new to me too. At least twice I said this was new, different, and not the most orthodox way of looking at the flight to Egypt. I also mentioned it was still biblical.

By the way, as a version 2.0 I was not being dishonest saying this was new because the first time it was new and it did freak me out as much as it did and should freak out anybody who read this for the first time. I was sharing my honest first impressions.

The reader and listener will also notice that when I gave my version of the Nativity/Wise Man/First Part of Today's Reading, I used some emotionally charged language. I did this because I wanted people to react to the word of God and how it would look if it were happening today. I wanted us to be uncomfortable.

And that's why I used the Fosdick quote: "The purpose of the gospel is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable."

In short, I don't think the purpose of the gospel is to always make us feel better about ourselves. But I do believe that it should always make us know that our hope is in the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ. It's not in our stuff. It's not in our skill. It's in our Lord.

That's the purpose behind sharing the Isaiah quote. Isaiah was sharing a reflection of God's mercy remembered while foreshadowing the work of Christ to come. How great is that?

In the end, there seemed to be two reactions. Those who said it was nice to have me back and those who said they really, really loved the sermon. I must admit, when a pastor lays it all out, and in my opinion that sermon is a one not everyone is ready (or maybe even willing?) to hear (can I refer you back to the congregation that heard a lesser version?).

But then again, Preaching and Worship professors constantly reminded us that the pulpit should always be approached with fear and trepidation. Yet, it should always be approached in the confidence of Christ.

There is no better tightrope in the world. Thanks to the good people of Broadmoor Presbyterian for walking it with me this morning. Thank you and God bless.

The Vanilla Accent

A long time ago I heard that telemarketers often headquartered in Omaha because compared to the rest of America people in Omaha had a vanilla accent, or rather a plain speaking voice, no accent at all. Forgive me for saying after trying to get my AT&T DSL hooked up with Reggie in Bangalore three years ago that I wished companies stayed with vanilla.

The New York Times Opinion Page published an interactive quiz called "How Y’all, Youse and You Guys Talk. What does the way you speak say about where you’re from?" This is the link to my accent map. It shows my accent is most like Omaha, Lincoln, and Des Moines. My accent is least like New York City, which ironically is where my father was born and raised. If you have 10 minutes it's good fun.

Millstones and Milestones

The reason I call this blog "There's a Fat Man in the Bath Tub with the Blues" is because it's the title of one of my favorite songs by Little Feat. I love the version you will find on the right side of the screen. I love the version on the live album (sorry, album, old school) "Waiting for Columbus" too. But let's face it, it's also sort of an anthem for fat guys everywhere.

Now here's some good news! I have lost 100 pounds. Yes, I'm still a Fat Man, but the blues are on the run--and it's a good feeling. Today for the first time in a couple of months I did my full mile-and-a-half circuit walk and did it at 3 mph! It's not like long ago when I walked the Bolder Boulder, but it's a part of a good start.

I joked that my weight loss regimen has been poverty, mental illness and exercise. Well, we're still broke and I'm still looking for work here in Marshall and around the country. I'm coping with my illness well right now and taking the steps to make sure that continues, and I am getting good exercise. It's getting better.

I still have a ways to go, but I know I am on the path. I have passed some milestones and dropped some millstones and it feels good. New Year's resolutions? Not for me. It's time to make real change take a hold. Thanks be to God!

On a side note, Pastor Paul recommends Sports Tracker for Android to track distance and pace. It allows you choose your workout--walk, run, cycling, hiking, mountain hiking, roller skating, downhill skiing, Nordic skiing, paddling, rowing, or golf. You can pick your own activity where in many applications you have to download one for walking and one for running and one for so on and so forth.

Merry Christmas All Y'all

You know, I'll say something about being in recovery with being Bipolar, I'm much cheerier. Marie just told me that it's the Cheerios I'm eating. I must admit, it's better than all of the depression I've been spewing.

So here's something for Marie. She hates it when I call her "baby," but what about when The Boss does it?



This is the day that we celebrate the day of the birth of our Savior. This is the day we welcome Emmanuel, God with us. This is the day the physical presence of God came into our world in the least powerful way of any being, a baby. God's presence can come in any way, but God chose to come powerless, from the womb of a virgin, in a cave in what we call a manger. Danger surrounded him. His being was anything but secure. And He is God. In this moment, the greatest story ever told begins. So Merry Christmas one and all.

So now to the world let me say God bless, and may the coming year be a joyful and glorious year for all of us.

Faith and Mental Health

Earlier this week I met with my spiritual director. He said that he read my mental health blog. I asked him what he thought of it. He asked why there was not mention of God. I was struck dumb. It took a moment to come up with the answer "That blog was a clinical approach to my illness and hospitalization." It was quickly followed by, "Now I need to write the spiritual side."

Here's the single most important thing I went into the hospital knowing. I have hope in the Lord our God. Eight words, that's what I got. Let me elaborate.

I had been unemployed for over ten months, and stretched five months of severance over six and a half months. I didn't know how we were going to pay for our insurance, and money literally arrived on the porch. We got kicked out of where we were living, and another place opened up.

Was I thankful for God? Yes I was. Every day. At the same time I was so miserable I couldn't add one and one without consulting an accountant.

Marie was sick some days and on other days not quite so sick. In the meantime she did everything she could to keep me from falling apart and moving forward--pack boxes, prepare my Pastor Information Form, revise my resume, go to the store, yada, yada, yada.

Was I thankful for her. Yes I was. Every day. Did I show it? Certainly not well. I showed annoyance pretty well though. (Did I mention I was sick? Depression is insidious. I didn't know how big of a jerk being bipolar made me, only she does.)

If there's any good news; the self medication I gave up twenty-some years ago stayed in my bag of tricks not to come out.

My world crumbled around me and the only ideas I had were really, really bad ones. I was able by the grace of God to hold on until I got to my counselor's office. She got me into the hospital in Shreveport.

Now, if you have ever been in counseling for depression, you have probably heard this question: "Do you feel helpless and hopeless?" I've heard that question a million times, and I finally heard it properly and finally answered it aloud in the most accurate way for me.

I said, "I feel helpless. But I don't feel hopeless. In my faith I have hope. I have hope in the Lord my God."

How many times have I read David's Psalms of Lament? How many times have I read about the plight of Joseph? How many times have I read the Exodus story (and how many times has that story been adopted as a model for oppressed people all over the world)? How is there anything but hope in the cross and the resurrection?

Now, that my head is clear, I see that hope far more clearly too. I see now that hope is meant for me. I see that it is present in my life. I can even more clearly see those who are willing to help... those with whom God has blessed me in this life.

It's funny to say what I have now is a new life in Christ, but it truly is. Like everyone else I have had ups and downs, some of those downs pretty deep. Like anyone else who has depression my downs have real depth. In each of those times I have thanked God for saving me, for bringing me back. This time though it's different. I thought I had been broken before but I have never known brokenness like this. Oh, I thought I had, but it wasn't even even close.

Now, about two months later, the healing has begun. To date I feel great, literally never better. I have never been more clear. For that I thank God. In my fresh clarity I thank God for Marie, I thank God for all of the clinical help I have received. I truly thank God for all of our friends. We have gotten help, in financial, housing, other tangible, and especially prayer support from our friends from coast to coast. It's not that there are too many to list, but many have given anonymously and I honor that. Just know I will not forget.

Yes, some days will be better than others. Yes, I will have to be aware about how my meds are working because they may not always. I don't want to be unrealistic. At the same time I don't want to look under every rock for a rattlesnake just because I saw it happen once. I just have to pay attention to the sound of the rattle as I walk the path of life.

That is why I have hope in the Lord our God. Saved by the life and work, death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, indwelled by the Holy Spirit. By the grace of God I say Amen

Mental Health

A funny thing happened last month. Actually, it wasn't so funny. It was pretty scary. Life caught up with me. Life caught up with me and I didn't know what to do next. Actually that wasn't quite true... I had a "good idea" of what to do next, but having taken a class in crisis counseling I knew what I was thinking wasn't a "good idea."

I guess there had been signs of depression going on for a long time. I had found several different ways to deal with it over the years. I could go on for several paragraphs and describe the dozens of ways I have practiced self-therapy and self-medicating over the years. I even met with reasonable success. Reasonable being the key word. But last month the whole thing came tumbling down.

In November I became totally and wholly nonfunctional. I told my counselor what was happening and she told me it was time for me to go to the hospital. I was in no position to disagree. I guessed the depression had finally gotten such a hold on me that I had to do something right before I did something wrong.

Saying yes to help wasn't easy, I probably should have said something months earlier but didn't. But when I finally did say yes, it was the best thing I ever did.

To make a long story short, my diagnosis changed. My diagnosis is no longer simple depression. I am now diagnosed as Bipolar II. In short, that means that I have depression, sometimes serious bouts of depression (this helps explain some of my blog posts, especially the "Lies My Father/Mother Told Me" series) with hypomania. Hypomania is a version of mania which is not euphoric mania but a version that shows up as strangely energetic, talkative, assertive, creative, and productive behavior. Sometimes hypomania can also lead to questionable behavior... like some of my more dubious jokes.

I share this for a several reasons. The first is this, I am healing. That's the most wonderful thing I can say. I am on the way to feeling the best I have felt in my life. Therapy and medication are doing wonders. The second is that this is a process. Like everyone else on earth I will have good days and bad days. And now I have better tools to deal with them than I had even three months ago. This will also make me a better Pastor one day too. I have seen what the bottom looks like.

I also want to say thanks to my family and friends who took care of Marie and me while I was in the hospital and while I have been unemployed. You have been a joy to us.

Finally, I want to share because I want you to be aware. You know someone who is Bipolar. Fear Not! Or at least don't fear me. I'm not going to snap and bite your head off. I'm not going to go postal. I may not be just like everybody else, but there is one thing I know, I'm still me. I'm Paul. I'm the fat man in the bathtub. And I'm glad you came to my blog.

Enjoy.

The Presbyterian Food Stamp Challenge

The Presbyterian Church (USA) recently did a food stamp challenge (view Outlook link here) to show how difficult it is to feed a family using the SNAP program's dietary guidelines. I commend everyone of the 300 Presbyterians who signed up to see how the other half lives. Unfortunately, they really didn't get a full view of how the other half lives, not from someone on this side of the poverty line.

You see, as you know, I am an ordained minister (Teaching Elder, whatever) in the Presbyterian Church (USA). The congregation I served chose to quit meeting together at the end of January this year. While I received a generous severance package, all things come to an end. To an end they came at the end of June. I was able to stretch the cash part of the severance out for a while longer, but the insurance ended promptly on June 30, 2013. That $711.25 has been coming out of my pocket ever since.

On a side note, the reason we kept this insurance is that we did not want to start our deductibles and copays over again. That would not have been cost effective.

As I was unable to secure any employment in my small East Texas town so I relied on God's generous blessings. Through friends, churches, and the SNAP program my wife and I were able to keep our heads above water. We are housed. Our car was paid off one month after I lost my job and some rather pricey repairs were covered--as was car insurance. Monthly expenses like gas and phone, because you gotta have a phone if you're looking for work, were covered for a while by several churches where I preached as pulpit supply, a real blessing.

Then it happened, our SNAP benefits were around $340 per month for two adults, one with special dietary needs. When it came time to reapply our benefits were cut, they were cut to $15 per month. Not by $15 per month but to $15 per month. This wasn't because of any political posturing as both my Republican and Democratic friends were so quick to point out.

The reason our benefits were cut were because I reported we got help and I reported I spent it on health insurance. You see, the State of Texas, the state of my residence, believes I should be spending my money on food and not on health.

So I have looked for jobs in the church, sending Pastor Information Forms to over 160 congregations where God has not called me. I have sent applications to banks, colleges, restaurants, tutoring services, pawn shops, and more places than I can remember. I finally have an interview and God willing will have incoming income soon.

You have been patient with me but now I imagine you would like me to come to the point. Years ago I worked in a Student Support Services TRIO program serving low income students. I thought this gave me a better idea of what it was like to be poor in America and I wasn't really wrong. Then I became a seminary student and a pastor in two different very small rural churches. While the blessings are wonderful they aren't monetary, I got a better idea of what living in poverty looked like. My wife's health began to deteriorate and she has been unable to work for five years--between loss of income and increase of medical expenses we are getting a real first hand view of poverty.

The point of my story is that nobody who took The Presbyterian Food Stamp Challenge unknowingly choose between health insurance and food stamps. Who would ever make that choice knowingly. Who would have ever thought that would be a forced choice.

In the end we're not that far from sleeping in the car. Only the Grace of God and the help of good friends has kept us out of it so far. So thanks to anyone who has spared us a room. Thanks to everyone who has sent us a check--and some of you have been quite generous. Blessings to all who have prayed for us because we have had some very rough patches too. And thanks to the 300 of you who tried to see how the other half lived. God bless us all.

Heroes of the Faith

People often wonder which person in the bible they most resemble. The most assertive of us pick Paul or Deborah. Some of us who are good disciples who are also known to say the wrong thing from time to time pick Peter.

As for me, I'm a lot like this guy from Mark's gospel...

When the whole crowd saw him, they were immediately overcome with awe, and they ran forward to greet him. He asked them, “What are you arguing about with them?” Someone from the crowd answered him, “Teacher, I brought you my son; he has a spirit that makes him unable to speak; and whenever it seizes him, it dashes him down; and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid; and I asked your disciples to cast it out, but they could not do so.” He answered them, “You faithless generation, how much longer must I be among you? How much longer must I put up with you? Bring him to me.” And they brought the boy to him. When the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. Jesus asked the father, “How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood. It has often cast him into the fire and into the water, to destroy him; but if you are able to do anything, have pity on us and help us.” Jesus said to him, “If you are able!—All things can be done for the one who believes.” Immediately the father of the child cried out, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:15-24, NRSV)

Those of you who know scripture know Jesus healed the boy, telling his disciples that to banish this spirit requires prayer. Those of you who didn't, well, spoiler alert.

What I love about this man is his honesty, "I believe; help my unbelief!" He knows who Jesus is and he knows what can happen when Emmanuel, God with us, is with us. Still, the things he has seen in his life cause him not to believe.

I know how he feels.

In seminary, they teach us something important about the kingdom of God, it is happening now, and it's not happening yet. We do live in a world where Christ is King of kings. He is Lord of lords. There is nothing that he cannot do. There is no foe he cannot face. Jesus of Nazareth who died conquered death. He conquered death. Yet, we live in a world where politicians fight for what we laughingly call power. Despots behave like "little tin gods." Horror and shame thrive where there should be peace and grace. We live in a world where it looks like God can be ignored, like Jesus' redeeming work has no effects at all. We live in a world that is redeemed, yet we can't turn on the news without knowing that the world doesn't look like it has been.

The redeeming work of Christ is done; now, but not yet.

This is how I live into this Father's words, "I believe; help my unbelief!" I believe, I know. Yet I also know the pain and despair and shame this world heaps on its inhabitants.

To me, this man's heroism is his honesty, before the Lord his God he knows and he tells the whole truth. He knows and he fears and he shares both with Jesus and with the world. He may not have made his way into Hebrews 11 nor will he ever be listed among the great heroes of scripture. Despite his place in history I say this, he's a hero.

He's one of my heroes. The greater hero of course is Jesus. He did what he said he would do. He did everything he said he would do. That is heroic.

Snark, my Sense of Humor, and American Politics

Dear Friends,
Those of you who know me at all know I have a tremendous and vast sense of humor. I find all sorts of things funny and look to find humor in every situation, usually successfully. Those of you who know me well know that from time to time my sense of humor can be snarky. Or sarcastic. Or downright dark. I try to keep those down to a minimum. I tend to keep that part of my sense of humor out of my professional life.

Side note: Those who know me socially are asking "That's a minimum?" My best answer is "Yes, now imagine what I self edit... Now imagine what I only share with my wife... " This is when we all nominate the wonderful Marie for sainthood.

The reason I haven't updated this blog recently is because I haven't had much to say, and the things that I thought I might share were best self edited. Readers who have experienced recent postings, especially the "Lies my father/mother told me" series, are wiping their brows in gladness. This is one of the few times the phrase "thank you for not sharing" is appropriate. It's not a proud moment, but still.

I will never lose my sense of humor. Nor will I lose every element of my sense of humor, but here's something very important-- I am sick of the level of snark I have seen in the past ten years. Let me make this very clear, if I've had it up to here with snark it's probably drowning mortals. What pushed me over the edge? The current debate on the Affordable Healthcare Act.

I find much of it disingenuous. Before President Obama was inaugurated Congressional Republicans publicly declared their goal over "the next four years is to make President Obama a one-term president." While the strategy didn't work that doesn't prevent its continuation.

But don't let Congressional Democrats off the hook. They're just as bad, nobody has cornered the market on "disingenuous." The party of my inclination is just as able to brew a tempest in a teapot. The reason I don't list any is that I have read so many Facebook posts and memes about how Democrats impede government sending America into poverty that I don't need to. If you disagree with my politics you have your own laundry list.

Important point! I don't hate the people who disagree with me! I need the people who disagree with me! People who challenge me and what I believe give me perspectives that challenge what I believe and make my beliefs stronger. You may make me either affirm or change what I believe, and either way it still makes me stronger, not weaker!

But the level of snark from both sides of the Congressional aisle don't challenge me. They now disgust me. As for me, on this day, I believe there's enough blame to go around. Again, enough blame to go around. As Shakespeare said, "a pox on both of your houses. Both of your houses!"

About fifteen years ago my father had an epiphany in Missouri state races. All of the men running for office, Democrats and Republicans both, were acting like idiot blowhards. The women on the other hand were measured and constructive. Today I look at Michelle Bachman and Hillary Clinton and wonder what happens once you reach a certain point. It's the Peter Principle of American Politics. I despair this once workable solution is now improbable.

If you want to accuse me of being snarky right now I want to plead "not guilty" but will probably settle for "no contest." I'm trying to express myself without going over the edge right now (and on a second reading too out things that were too close to the edge of snark for my comfort), but that is the tight rope I now choose to walk. That's the abyss I'm not going to throw myself into anymore, God help me.

So friends, please know that my sense of humor will remain sharp. My stories will still be funny. My puns will still be flowing like a river. And I seek to quit wasting my time and yours on snark, especially political snark. Now that's a load off my chest.

Love you all,
Paul

A Retirement Party

Dear friends, allow me to introduce you to my New Balance 295's. I got them in Austin while in Seminary. I wore them while walking a two plus mile path for about two years while there. I have worn them while walking the track in Berryville, Arkansas. I wore them walking in Marshall, Texas. They've been around.

I even wore them while walking in Mexico. Mexico, Missouri that is--65265. It's the home of the Mexico Military Academy and the Miss Missouri Pageant. It's also where I was born and where my parents died.

So to say the least, these shoes have been around the block. They've gone through several insole replacements. They have carried me far and well. But today is their day.

The soles, while still having some tread, have failed internally. The roll bars now roll in ways they should not. They have been replaced by a new Nike. It's a good shoe, but I just don't see them lasting eleven years like these NB's.

Thanks for the support.

Again, we need your help

Add

Friends, 
The photo you see here is from our first date, seventeen years ago... oh what those kids didn't know then...

I have been unemployed now for over eight months. When the church closed I received a five month severance package. Because of friends and being frugal Marie and I have made this stretch three more months. Food stamps and odd jobs helped, but now we have reached the end of our rope and need your help again. 

We have medical bills from now to the end of the year that will come to over $5,000.00. Insurance alone will take 70% ($700 per month for five months-$3,500.00) of this. Medicine will chew up several hundred each month too. The rest is for copays.

Please know I don't come to this lightly. Many of you have helped with our car--help that covered all but $60 of that expense. In the meantime, I have applied to work at more than 100 different churches nationwide, all three local colleges, the Cable TV company, and dozens of other companies. It's not that I'm unwilling to work, but I am unable to find a job.

Friends, by God's grace I pray you can help.
Paul

XTerra Update

A bill from Orr Nissan, and the check that paid the bill.

Dear Friends,
This picture is a bill from Orr Nissan in Shreveport, Louisiana. It covers a timing belt, water pump, heater core, and coolant overflow hose along with enough labor to tear it down and put it back together again. The check that covers the bill, literally and figuratively, was made possible through your generosity.

On July 10 I posted our first request online for help. Unemployment stinks and unemployment in East Texas without a working vehicle is impossible. We could have sold the vehicle to get a new one, but that would have netted us about $1,500 to buy something and it's not 1988 anymore. You can't even get a wreck in Marshall for that kind of money.

This is where I don't know how many of you joined us in prayer that we might get the help we need. Prayers were answer. Twenty-three of you decided to lend us a financial hand via the PayPal route. Your generosity has provided $2,500.00. Four others mailed us checks totaling $350.00. We also received another $350.00 in cash from four other people. This comes to... you guessed it... $3,200.00.  That was more than close enough to the total needed to pay the bill to make me dance in the streets.

When I posted this good news on Facebook, I also shared thanks and praise to God. Then Moishe Sachs, a friend from Santa Fe Trail Elementary School, wrote,  "Maybe more than is apparent; the check is made out to Orr (light in Hebrew) & Nissan, from the word in Hebrew meaning miracle, ness." Moishe is right, this is a miracle from the Light of God. Amen.

He also noted how glorious it is that an observant Jew and a progressive Presbyterian can get together and praise God. Amen Moishe, amen. God has blessed us through you. God bless all of you who helped.

Of course that's not all we need...

We still need another $1,000.00 for a tune up, but that's not urgent. That's not going to keep us off the road.

Another thing we need is a job. Friends, I think I've proven I'm not too proud to beg. I need a job. If you have any leads or friends with leads for someone with a bachelor's in business, two master's degrees, ten-plus years in Higher Education and over seven in ministry (and five in the "hospitality industry") I would love to talk to you.

If you want to help financially, the link is still active. (Still not a tax dedutable contribution.) Click the "Donate" button  and enter paandresen@aol.com when it asks for "To (Their email address)"



If you have a line on a job, email me at PAAndresen@aol.com. We can arrange phone contact or even lunch from there.

In the meantime, praise God and thank you for your help

Affirmation

There are days when it seems that nothing I say or do matters a lick in this world. Sometimes, on those days, I yell at the universe to see if anybody is listening. In the internet age this usually saying something or sharing something on Facebook or on my blogs.

Some days the universe answers and some days it doesn't. That's just the way it is. Then there are the days when the universe yells back at you. I've never had one of those days, but I have friends and acquaintances who know that feeling way too well. One friend wrote a blog post asking the world why private citizens need automatic and assault weapons at all. Believe me, the universe yelled back that day.

But sometimes, sometimes it's not a scream but a whisper that makes it worth while.

I preached at St. Andrew Presbyterian Church on July 14th. St. Andrew recently lost their pastor and until recently were seeking an interim pastor. I was among a number of local pastors who filled the pulpit during the process. So walking down the hallway on that Sunday morning, a teenager came up to me, gave me a big hug around the neck, and said, "Oh good, you're my favorite."

I posted the girl's comment on Facebook and a friend from Junior High wrote, "It was like God sent someone to let you know He knows." This made me smile almost as much. No yelling at the universe, just a simple word from a teenager, and the love of God welcomes me saying, "You're doing what I want you to do. Keep it up. You don't need to shout."

Thanks Megan. Thanks Debbie. Some days I don't think anything I do matters. Other days I find out that it does matter. God bless you all.

We Need Your Help

Dear Friends,

Yesterday (July 9) afternoon I was leaving the airport in Shreveport with two friends who were returning to Marshall from a wedding. The moment the XTerra left the airport grounds there was a pop and a hiss and the temperature gauge spiked. It wasn't a good moment. So I changed lanes and pulled into the AVIS/Hertz lot not a block away. That was a good moment.

To make a long story shorter, I got the car to the shop (Thanks State Farm Tow Coverage) last night and this morning (July 10) I got the diagnosis. To get the car running again will cost $1710.00. This amount will replace the timing belt, water pump, and coolant bypass hose. To get it running well will cost an additional $1,000. This covers a tune up and serpentine belt.

Our XTerra on a better day.

Now here's where a big problem becomes an even bigger problem. Those of you who know us know that the congregation in Marshall has stopped meeting. To reduce expenses Marie and I have moved from the house we were renting into a room with a former member of First Pres-Marshall. I am seeking a new call, a process which can take a year and longer in Presbyterian Circles. I am also looking for work in Chaplaincy and higher education. I have been filling pulpits in Grace and Pines Presbytery (Many thanks to those congregations who have invited me to preach!) but this barely meets our short term needs.

As for asking the Presbytery for funds, I was told that since they helped cover dental work for Marie (they were very generous) they are not able to help.

We have about $400.00 dollars in the bank today, but that's earmarked for cover daily expenses like rent, medicines (Marie's meds are both abundant and expensive), and health insurance. Pastors are not eligible for unemployment, but we are on Food Stamps so we have dived into those possibilities to keep us afloat. Marie is unemployable because of a disability and is in the process of compiling documents to file for Social Security Disability. I'm giving you an awful lot of information because friends, we need your help.

I have established a PayPal account to help us cover these car expenses. I'm asking for your prayer and financial help. Any amount will help, no amount is too small. I also hope that our pastor friends will consider donating from congregation benevolence funds.

Like everyone knows, living in a small town, seeking work locally and nationally, and continuing to serve God, without a car we are hamstrung. It may not be impossible to live without a vehicle, but we can get more done with one. We thank you for your love and your prayers. And we appreciate your support.

JULY 15 UPDATE: When it rains it poors. I just got a call from the shop with more bad news. The heater core is cracked. Replacing it will add an additional $1,112 to the cost of the repairs in addition to the $1,700 for the timing belt, water pump, and coolant bypass hose. All told, with tax, the updated cost is $3.164.89.

Marie and I praise God and thank those who have contributed so far. The PayPal appeal has brought in $2,200.00 plus another $350.00 in cash dropped off personally. I have also been told there are a couple of checks in the mail that haven't made it to Marshall yet. This means we still need $600.00 to cover the major expense and then there is the tune up. We continue to thank you for your prayers and support.

In Christ,
Paul and Marie Andresen

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MUST BE SAID: I am not a church. I am not a charitable institution. I an not a 401(c)(3) organization. I can offer no tax relief for your donation. And is with all of my blog posts, this request is not affiliated with the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in particular or any other organization in general. This is a personal request. Thank you and God bless.

Racial Equality, the Fight Continues in Even the Smallest Corners

If you are a regular follower of my blogs you know that I live in Marshall, Texas. The civil rights history of Marshall is long and storied. It is said the sit-in was invented here. 

At the Paramount Theater, if you were black during the eras before the 1960s, you walked past the front theater door where whites entered and rounded the corner to buy your ticket. You walked a steep flight of steps to enter and sat in the "Buzzard's Roost." Blacks weren't allowed to sit with whites, obvious in Jim Crow Marshall, but blacks weren't even allowed to enter with whites. CORE founder James L. Farmer Jr. who grew up in Marshall was so incensed that he went to Washington in 1941 to fight for civil rights.

The 1949 film "Pinky" became the subject of a tremendous battle when the city fathers decided it could not be shown in Marshall because the picture depicts "(1) a white man retaining his love for a woman after learning that she is a Negro, (2) a white man kissing and embracing a Negro woman, (3) two white ruffians assaulting Pinky after she has told them she is colored."The cinema owner was convicted of violating the ruling and was fined $200. He appealed the conviction all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court where he eventually won his appeal.

I mention this because Marshall Cinema is showing "White House Down" this week. It's the story of Channing Tatum saving the President of the United States played by Jamie Foxx from home grown terrorists. To the right you will see how it's posted on the Marshall Cinema website (as of July 6, 2013 at 10:30 am).

As you can see, this movie evidently doesn't star Jamie Foxx. It stars Maggie Gyllenhaal. Really? Yes, she's in the movie and she's important to the action but she isn't the star of the show. It's Tatum and Foxx, and for one reason or another Jamie Foxx isn't on the bill. 

Even in the smallest corners of our nation and our cybernation, discrimination exists. There is no other reason I can imagine leaving Jamie Foxx off of their web page. Do people not know? Are people so afraid of Jamie Foxx that even though his picture is on the page his name dare not be listed? Is Maggie Gyllenhaal a bigger draw? 

I find it hard to consider, but not so hard to believe, that even in the quietest moments, in the smallest corners of the internet, this fight has to continue.

Thanks to the Shreveport Times, http://www.shreveporttimes.com/article/20080217/LIVING/802160309/On-trail-history-Marshal-Texas-offers-black-heritage-tour

and Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pinky_(film)

An Exercise in Self Reflection from 30 Years Ago

In college we had an assignment in my interpersonal communications class where we had to share three objects. One to represent how we think people see us. One to represent how we see ourselves. And one to represent how we want to be seen.

For the first I picked a small paper bag. I believe people saw me as a certain thing, a certain category. Looking for the guy to help with Econ homework, take the bag. Looking for a laugh, take the bag. Looking for a shoulder to cry on, take the bag. I think that is how people saw me. The take what you need guy.

The second item played into the first, my second item was a large paper grocery sack. This sack held all of the little sacks. It's very fragmented in the bag, but there's a ton of stuff in it.

The third item was the healthy integration of the sack of sacks. The third item I picked was a cigar. Each component of who I am is a part of one integrated unit. Taking a pull off the cigar gives a bit of everything. Like a cigar is one smoke with many layers of many leaves, that is how I wanted to be--one man whose many experiences made for a complete being.

When presenting my items, I was sure to mention that not everybody loves a cigar and that's just fine because a cigar can only be a cigar. Love it or hate it, a cigar can only be a smoke. As for me, I am who I am and if you don't like me at least I'm true to myself.

As a child of God I need to phrase that differently. As a child of God, when in accord with the Holy Spirit, I am who I am called to be, and if you don't like me God still loves me.

The Sublime Art of Being Offensive

Recently I was told that a post I put on Facebook was offensive. Let's be honest, it was adolescent. I was asked by someone I respect to delete it so I did. No problem, no offense taken at the suggestion. I won't even post it here to show just how offensive it was. Don't bother trying to judge for yourself, just know it was in poor taste. I admit it, I have bad taste sometimes, especially when others make it possible for me to exercise my bad taste.

Of course, that's why my Facebook privacy settings are "friends only." For what that's worth in the land of internet privacy, but that's for another day. There was nothing sublime about how offensive my comment was. But I do like to look for the sublime of what's offensive.

By the way, what my post was a comment on the poor quality of mass advertising of church/worship in America. The picture associated with my caption was a part of a vast marketing (church marketing ~~SHUDDER~~) campaign and it was ripe for lampooning.

I believe the most sublime of offenses is found in our health care system. Recently, someone from the Board of Pensions, the PC(USA) insurance and pension group, came to Grace Presbytery to get the grassroots response from plan participants about their multiple plans to make Presbyterian insurance more financially solvent.

Before I had my say, I told the representative that I respect what he was doing trying to fix our little corner of a system that's broken. I dare say that the PC(USA) part of the system is less broken than our society as a whole, but there are some big problems.

The one he spoke about was financing. He noted that with increased expenses there a bulge in the pipeline and when it comes to a weak spot there would be trouble. He noted that two things needed to happen. There would have to be more revenue and less expenses.

He said that not everybody can have the "new" drug that was advertised on the television when the old drugs would work. He said that not everybody needed the state of the art orthopedic device when others would work. That's fine with me, but for one major problem.

The Board currently employs two different management companies to operate the plan. They employ one to handle medicines and another to handle doctors and hospitals. This is actually a problem for the consumer. Each company has incentives to reduce what they pay out. This is the best possible system to care for the bottom line of these company and the Board working to pay no claims at all.

In my family, my wife is on an expensive medicine for migraines which the medicine component of our insurance will not pick up unless she uses others first. Problem one: She has used those other medicines, but they were provided by doctor samples so the insurance company does not have a record. No prescription  no copay, it doesn't really exist so they don't want to help with the one that does work. Problem two: If she doesn't take it she ends up in the Emergency Room with a headache that registers 10 on a scale of 10. They take care of her, but at a cost.

Do you see the issue? The medicine company doesn't care if she uses the ER because it's not on their bottom line. When she uses the med, the medical service folks are glad they aren't paying for ER treatment  Our system has effectively pitted one component of itself against the other. Our insurance is literally at war with itself to get the other guy to pay.

So how do we save money, by refusing any and all claims. We save money by increasing pain because we can't get meds that do work. Tests that can find damage can be deferred because others weren't taken first, who cares if that deferred test can save a life. Oh, and yes, this happened to us to when my wife's surgeon actually watched her bowel perforate during a test.

Good times.

So if this is how they reduce expenses, how do they plan to increase income? I'm glad you asked.

One way, probably the most painful and equitable is to raise everyone's relative expense from 21% to 23%. Not cheap is it.

Another way is just to cover the pastor and nobody else in the family. They have two different options under this provision, but they have the similarity that the Pastor getting coverage alone is where they start. Don't get me wrong, I love Jesus, but I suspect Jesus wants me to take care of my family. So if we went this way, the extra would come out of the pastor's, our of my pocket directly.

This is where the board has lost track of something fundamental. The source of my salary and the source of the money to pay the Board comes out of the same pockets, or more accurately, the same plate. It is the congregation that sends money to the Board and pays my salary. It's all one source!

Hooray to the families where there is more than one breadwinner. They can afford it, or they can finagle another way of getting health insurance between the two employers. That isn't so in my family. Disease has made it impossible for my wife to work. So the Board has given me two choices, find a better paying call or get another job.

Leave the small church that can't really afford all the bells and whistles of the plan on its own or find a job in that same small town... probably a town that is still recovering from the Great Recession and isn't firmly on its feet yet. If these are our choices then that is the church of the future. Singles who can be covered alone, the independently wealthy, dual career folks who can both find work, and tent-makers.

I'll say it again, it's the whole American health care system that's broken. The Board's plan has its merits and I thank God everyday I have insurance, and since I'm at the pharmacy almost everyday I'm not exaggerating. Complaining that the Board isn't doing enough is like saying the little Dutch boy isn't doing enough during a tsunami. But that's the problem-Our health care system isn't facing a bulge in the pipeline, it's a tsunami and all we have are Dutch boys. That's offensive.

My picture and caption, sure it was offensive. The kind of offensive that gets deleted. Life and death, sickness and health, what we're doing with that is a whole new kind of offensive. Deleting life is offensive too.

Telemarketing and DirecTV

As many of you know, the church that I was serving chose to close. This was traumatic for everyone involved. As for me, there have been many changes. One of them has been moving from our home of two-and-a-half years. We are now renting a room from a friend. Thank God for good friends who are willing to lift a helping hand! As a part of moving, I had to shut off the utilities. Obvious, eh?

Telemarketing has become an art unto itself. Each time I called to cut off a service the person at the call center would ask why. I would tell them that I was moving because I had lost my job. Most were sympathetic, some just went on with the day. Not DirecTV.

When I called them they asked why and I told the why. So the call center attendant asked if the place where I was moving had DirecTV. Really? I lost my job, found a room, and you want to know if the woman who owns the house where I will live has or wants DirecTV? I was in shock, but I just said she was happy with her service.

Then a couple of days later I got the follow up call asking why I was dropping the DirecTV. I decided to be a little more direct. I said "I lost my job. I am unemployed. By the grace of God we found a room to rent but that meant I had to end my DirecTV service." Not to be deterred, she asked if our new landlord was interested in DirecTV. Really? Really again? I couldn't believe it, but I was polite again and said no.

I was sure I had to share this with you my blogging audience but hadn't gotten around to it... until I checked my email this evening and found this...

This is just a part of the image, but you get the point, I am still getting begging from DirecTV.

So, here's the deal, we liked DirecTV. We liked it very much. But when the time comes again, I will remember this experience, and when I was unemployed they still wanted to sell me what I could not use.

It Was 25 Years Ago

Twenty-five years ago I was working in Westport, Kansas City, Missouri. It was also the 50th Anniversary of the NCAA Men's Division I College Basketball Tournament. As a bar manager it was a big weekend for us.

Image may be subject to copyright

Friday night April 1, 1988 was outrageous, especially as the 8th cede University of Kansas Jayhawks made their way to the finals. (A game they would ultimately win on Monday against the University of Oklahoma Sooners.) So after a wild evening of basketball and revelry, the national press woke on April 2, a sunny Sunday morning and asked Kansas City, "So, what's going on today?" Nobody had a clue.

On this sleepy Sunday morning a man escaped confinement from the midtown home of Bob Berdella wearing nothing but a dog collar. That's right, naked but for a dog collar. The young man had been abducted and held by Berdella in his basement.

When it all hit the fan, partial remains of six young men were found on Berdella's property. All had been kidnapped, raped, and murdered. His own words and pictures, along with the testimony of the sole survivor, led to a guilty verdict with a sentence of life imprisonment.

Just to keep this more bizarre, Mr. Berdella had a shop selling occult inspired items at a flea market. The name of the shop was "Bob's Bizarre Bazaar." While originally denied it, some of the meat in Bob's famous Chili came from some of his victims.

No,
I never went to Bob's and I sure never had the chili.

Sure, the local press were all over the story, but did I mention, the national press was in town too? Something about a basketball game? Well, 25 years later the story of Bob Berdella is a passing thought to people from Kansas City and less than that to the people who heard the story waiting for basketball scores. The only people who care anymore are documentary makers and the writers of "Criminal Minds" who are missing a sure bet not retelling that story.

Bob died in prison on October 8, 1992 from a heart attack. He had complained that he wasn't getting his medication. As my sister said, "You just know the guard wasn't in much of a rush." and she's probably right.

A Truth I Once Told my Brother-in-Law

My next-to next-to last Brother-in-Law once told me this story. You'll need a little background information to understand the whole thing.

My older sister and her then husband once worked for a couple of friends who ran a business called TableTenders. TableTenders was a company that supplied servers for banquets. If you were a caterer and you had an event and you needed people to take care of serving the food and picking up afterward, you called TableTenders. They were sub-contractors who helped caterers serve the food.

A friend of my sister's then husband (MSTH) worked for the company too. She was suddenly in huge financial trouble. Her husband, a KCMO Firefighter decided to divorce her. He left her and the home and he left her to fend with their three children. Suddenly she was living hand to mouth with her kids and didn't know what to do next.

This went on for a while, certainly long enough that she was in emotional and financial distress and he bought a big motorcycle.

One day, the Firefighter was out on his bike, lost control, and hit a wall. He was killed instantly. What he hadn't done though is finish the divorce proceedings. All of their property was now her property. She was the recipient of his insurance and pension too because he didn't change any of the paperwork.

As this was happening, one of the owners of TableTenders was selling their half of the business. She took the proceeds of the insurance and bought half of the business. Suddenly this woman went from living on the edge to becoming an entrepreneur. She went from being economically marginal to being a small business owner.

So, MSTH asked, "Paul, help me out here. What's the moral of this story."

I told him "The moral of this story is not for her, and it's not for him, it's for you and me: We will all have mid-life crises, we must handle them better than this."

Friends, we must all do it better than this.

Here's a Truth My Father Told Me, with a Side Note

Again, as an obese child, people made fun of me. I was bullied. But here's what my father said about that, "Sometimes, children are cruel." He said that not only to tell the plain and simple truth, but in a way that added we will grow out of it.

Can I add that I was a child, and I wasn't always kind and wonderful? It might actually make my point, sometimes children are cruel.

The Apostle Paul said "When I became a man I gave up my childish ways." Guess what? My dad was right, but on a side note adults are childish and cruel too. It's the difference between being who we are in a sin-sick world and behaving like the children our Heavenly Father calls us to be.

As Gump once said, "...and that's all I have to say about that."

Lies My Father Told Me, Mother's Edition

Not long after I found out about my Father's other family, my mother asked me how I was dealing with it. I told her that while there was a lot to chew on, ultimately it was all done. I love my father and he loves me. She was happy with that answer. It wasn't until her funeral that I discovered why.

As our mother fought on her deathbed, a fight that we knew would be fruitless, my sisters went looking for the will. They were trying to get all of the paper ducks in a row before the big moment. It was the right thing to do, but it doesn't come without its pitfalls. In fact, my older sister didn't find the will for another couple of days, but she did find some other paperwork. This is how she discovered that our father wasn't the only one who had a previous spouse, my mother had a first husband too. Now for the big question? The one that still causes us to scratch our collective heads? Who is my sister's father? Is it husband #1 or husband #2. She doesn't know. None of us know.

The day after my mother died we met with the pastor about the service. By this time my older sister was racked with questions but I was still oblivious. Pastor Terry asked if there was anything we wanted to tell our mother. My sister bit her tongue, but the thought raged through her mind, "Hell yes, I've got something I'd like to tell you!" She told me this story that evening... with a big bottle of whiskey.

So what's the lie? Your secrets die with you. Trust me, that ain't so. And by this little secret, my sister now wonders about most of the parenting decisions our folks made, and how it colored her parenting. Here's a hard truth, sometimes the truth sucks. Theologically I'd say that's the nature of sin. Any way the wind blows, it's lies and the nature of lies that gum up the whole system, especially when we think we can take the whole kit-and-caboodle all the way to our graves.

...and people wonder why I have trust issues.

Lies My Father Told Me, Volume 2

Here's an old chestnut, "We're all one big happy family." In a way it wasn't a lie, it was an omission of important facts. You know, a lie.

We were a model Johnson County, Kansas family--Dad, Mom, two daughters and one son.  Demographically, we were the perfect '60's family. Now, don't get me wrong, it wasn't all tea and cakes. The neighborhood we lived is was pretty nice. Residential, school right down the street, no real poverty, but we seemed to have less than everyone else on the block. Still, I had my bike and Lincoln Logs and baseball cards and the Boy Scouts, we weren't rich, but by no means were we poor. Still, we really had to stretch a buck. Dad worked a series of odd jobs along with his regular job at TWA. He took wedding photos, he cleaned businesses, he even worked on the railroad.

That cooled down after we all tuned eighteen or so. My dad and I would even take walks and stop for coffee and pie along the way. One night he told me the story of a woman he met when he was in the Air Force. He seemed to be far away while telling the story, kind of like a man and the one who got away. I asked, "So why did you marry mom instead of her?" I was curious, son to father I was curious.

I don't really remember what he said, he mumbled, he started off with "Well..." and there didn't seem much to hold onto. Curious, but it that's all I'm gonna get then that's all I'm gonna get. Then for my 30th birthday I got a dose of the truth.

You see, he did marry that woman, they had two sons. For my 30th birthday I got two half-brothers. Surprise!

There it was, the elephant in the room. Why were we the poor people in Johnson County? (BTW-there are many worse places to be "the poor people.") It's because we weren't a family of three, we were a family of five. Of course my dad had to work his ass off, but since my folks never shared those little facts we just thought dad was never home. It wasn't that he wasn't there for us, he was so busy taking care of our family and his other family that he wasn't there for anybody.

You see, he lied about his other family because he believed it wasn't good for either family to be enmeshed with the other. In the end what this lie cost me was two brothers and my father. He did it for the sake of the children, and in the end it did not.

My dad tried and he was wrong. Maybe that's one of the great lessons of parenting, you will be wrong. Then again that's the lesson of being a child, your parents tried not to screw up--even though they did they tried not to.

Ultimately the product of the lie is that I never got to know what was going on and am none the better for it.

Lies My Father Told Me, Volume 1

Let's face it, parents lie. Often it's because kids aren't at a developmental stage where the truth would make any sense. This is why there are so many different versions of "The Birds and the Bees." So not all lies are bad, per se, but then again, every lie is a step further away from the truth. One of the first lies my father told me is that people don't care what you look like, who you are trumps what you look like. Such a lie.

We live in a society where appearance is all important, and in my many job searches since 1984 I have found this to be true.

Here's a nice story: A member of the congregation in Marshall once told me a story about my first day in the pulpit. She said when I entered the sanctuary for the first time, coming in behind the acolyte, she thought "That is a whole bunch of man." Then I opened my arms and said, "May the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all." That was when she told  me I could be her pastor.

So, in a way my dad was right, once I got in the door, I was judged for who I was. The difficulty now is finding another part of the Body of Christ, where the people will judge me for who I am, not how I look. Now that wasn't something my dad ever warned me about.

So what's this all about? Here's something I know: One day I will be judged for not being a good steward of my body. I am a fat man. This is a truth.

But I will not be judged  as someone who chose not to consider a possible pastor because of appearance. Those people are living my father's lies.

Pastor Paul's Super Bowl XLVII Halftime Review

Let me begin by saying a little about myself and my expectation for the show: I'm a 50 year old white guy who loves football and music and not talented in either. I walk into the show expecting a show that features a musical performer will be more about the music than the spectacle. If you want to say "Er, Paul, Super Bowl? You're not looking for the spectacle?" you've got a very good point. It's just that I want the music to be spectacular too. My take, my opinion, you may believe something completely different. That's cool, God creates in many colors. If you don't agree that's fine.

So let me add, the halftime shows that I enjoyed since the turn of the century were U2, Springsteen, Prince, The Who, the Stones, and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. I will also say that The Who and Petty sets weren't everything they could have been. I've reviewed The Who show in this space (Roger's pipes aren't what they used to be) but not the Petty (seemed a little light and those were ARROWS shooting across the field, not what some folks thought they were. They're the "Heartbreakers" for the love of Pete! ARROWS SHOOTING INTO A HEART!). U2 and Prince ROCKED!

As far as the technical aspects of the performance goes, Beyoncé's voice was so much louder than everyone else it was truly a Beyoncé show. So be it. This becomes an issue when she shares the stage and especially the spotlight with other performers. I couldn't hear the flaming guitar over Beyoncé. When it came to the Destiny's Child reunion I could hardly hear the Kelly Rowland and Michelle Williams parts either. So the over-focus on Beyoncé was a distraction for the audiophile guy in me.

Then color me suspicious... Yes there were some times when Beyoncé did improv into the mic as if to say, "See, I'm not lip-syncing, I'm singing!" but then she put the same mic into the crowd during the finale. Beyoncé's voice came through loud and clear, the crowd noise was mute. So, color me suspicious.

But then again, it was conceived and birthed as an entertainment spectacle, not as a musical performance. It was a dance show, not a musical act. I get it. But it's just not my cup of tea.

Does that make me a 50 year old guy who doesn't understand what's going on with today's kids? Well, I was 15 when my dad was 50, and if that's any barometer then yes. It was only later when I discovered my dad wasn't the complete fuddy-duddy I thought he was.

By the way, Alicia Keys anthem was wonderful. It wasn't Marvin Gay at the 1983 NBA All-Star Game, but it was in the same league.

Another Bar Story-This One of Mystery and Intrigue

One day while doing my managerial duty stuff, I answered the phone. So far so good, right. On the other end of the line was a prosecutor from Greene County, Missouri, the Springfield area. He told me that he was investigating a fraud. He had a woman named Jane Poe (not her real name and that's not all) who was seeking WIC and other benefits for her newborn child. The problem is that according to the Social Security Administration I had a woman by the same name working for me in Kansas City. And yes, I had a Jane Poe working for me.

He told me that he suspected his Jane Poe was using my Jane Poe's information to get illegal benefits.

So I went on the hound dog trail and after a couple of days discovered the truth: there was a fraud being perpetrated, not against him but against me. You see, he had the real Jane Poe in Springfield. I had Jane's sister Lynne. You see Jane was over the age of 21 and could tend bar, Lynne wasn't 21 and it was illegal for her to tend bar. Lynne took Jane's ID and got herself a job at my bar.

When I was sure of my information I called the man in Greene County back. He told me "Wait, I'm investigating a fraud here!" I told him "Yes you are, it's just not the fraud you thought it was." He was finally convinced he had the real Jane and I had the real Lynne. Jane got her benefits and Lynne got fired.

See, not all bar stories are beer and blood. There's some real Micky Spillane some days.

Lawyers, Guns, and Money

I went home with a waitress,

the way I always do.

How was I to know,

She was with the Russians too!

-Warren Zevon, "Lawyers, Guns, and Money"

You won't find any legal-eagle details from my end. You will find them on one of several favorite News Channels and Web Sites. The news is that President Obama has signed several executive orders tantamount to controlling the kinds of weaponry that can now be purchased by civilians in the United States. Like I said, I don't know much. I don't know if it bans sale or possession. I don't know if current owners can keep their weapons. I don't even know what kinds of weapons.

I will make one assumption about kinds of weapons. I assume the controls do not extend to every weapon in America.

Let me begin by letting you know where I stand. I'm not opposed to weapons in general. I love venison! I don't care if it's brought down by bow or rifle. Some people hunt for meat to extend the family budget. It is a form of harvesting God's bounty. As for taxidermy, well, I'd prefer hunting for go rather than for show, but that's up to the conservation people not the gun people.

The second thing I will let you know is that 25 years ago my girlfriend committed suicide with a shotgun. She and her friends were going hunting the next day. Guns in the house to go hunting? Yeah, that's not stupid. Were they locked up? If one of the guns was hers she would have access to the cabinet so that's neither here nor there. My point is no amount of gun control would have prevented that. No use blaming anyone and a gun for that and I don't.

My real question is why do civilians need weapons that can rapidly fire in high quantity? That one I don't get. My reflex is to say no civilian needs that kind of fire power. A friend from suburban (formerly rural) Olathe, Kansas displayed his guns, including two weapons that looked like the kind that would quickly fire lots of rounds. The clips on them would hold lots of rounds too. What does a man in suburban Kansas City need with what looks like an assault rifle? Is he a criminal mastermind involved in a violent trade? No. Is he living in fear of criminal masterminds involved in a violent trade? I don't know. I really don't.

I would welcome someone teaching me why these weapons are necessary in civilian hands in the United States, especially in the suburbs. Seriously! I am genuinely curious! Teach me! Also, expect me to ask more questions if I continue not to understand.

Now to take a different tact, let's check out some George Carlin...(Blue language warning! By the way, I don't agree with what GC says about God. Now if he rephrased it to talk about how some folks "speak for God" I'd have much less problem with that. Go to 7:43 for the pertinent part.)

Carlin says something Mr. Sparks, my high school government teacher used to say. Mr. Sparks taught that as long as rights can be defined and redefined we have no rights. Do we have freedom of speech? Well, I can't just go into a classroom and begin teaching what I want to teach. The teacher would be upset. The administration would be upset. That would eventually make the police upset and I would learn that I did not have freedom of speech in that time and place. (Give it a try, you'll see what I mean.)

Constitutional provisions would apply because public education is a function of government. (Private schools have their own protective laws.) Still, because of time and place I don't have a right to address a classroom just because I want to be heard. (Again, give it a try, you'll see what I mean.) Technically, in this case I do not have a constitutionally granted right.

So do we really have any rights if they can be taken away? Carlin says no. Our government says we have rights but some of them can be curtailed. If you don't believe that give the Patriot Act a good read.

First though, what is an executive order? Wikipedia says "the intent [of the Executive Order is] to help direct officers of the U.S. Executive carry out their delegated duties as well as the normal operations of the federal government." So they help direct the Executive Branch do what it does and how it does it.

I guess the constitutional question will be are the Executive Orders signed by President Obama legal or not, constitutional or not. It is not the right of any given Congressman or the man on the street to decide. This one will be left up to the courts to decide. Let them do their job I say.

If the orders are found legal (or whatever) they will remain. If not they will be vacated. An example of a vacated order happened when the Supreme Court ruled in Youngstown Sheet & Tube Co. v. Sawyer, 343 US 579 (1952) that Executive Order 10340 from President Harry S. Truman placing all steel mills in the country under federal control was invalid because it attempted to make law, rather than clarify or act to further a law put forth by the Congress or the Constitution. (Italics added because that will be the final test of these Executive Orders.)

This is a long post, but I hope it's useful. Here's what I say:

1. The President signed some Executive Orders limiting weapons in the hands of civilians.
2. They may or may not be constitutional.
3. It will be up to the courts to decide.
4. If rights can be defined and redefined it can be asked if we really have rights. Some say no, I see their point.
5. I can't understand the civilian want and need to own weapons made for military combat. If there is a reason beyond "I want to start a war" and "I'm afraid someone wants to start a war" I'm listening.
6. I don't get it, but I'm willing to listen and learn. I can't promise I will agree with you, but I will respect your right to your opinion hoping you will do the same for me.

I guess it's worth adding that somewhere in the middle of my list we can add "Many people will do a lot of yelling and screaming" and "Much of it will be overly emotional spouting with limited use beyond the cathartic." With that it's worth quoting Warren one more time...

...Send lawyers, guns and money

the shit has hit the fan!