Maybe next time there will be a Smoke Monster (but actually 723)

I’ve been to four camps in the last ten days. I like Ridgecrest well enough, and Belmont’s easy because it’s five minutes from work. Today I’d tell you Glorieta is my favorite (the weather, the food, the scenery). But God has decided that North Greenville University will be the location we meet. I left there a week ago and haven’t been able to get it out of my heart.

It’s 2009. I’m at North Greenville University for 20 hours to see a few element of programming. I’m a fulltime Event Producer for LifeWay and I’ve written 95% of the dramatic material this year. I have no worries about butchering this year, at least at this location. They’ve got a hero for a PD and a dynamic duo for actors. They crush the drama. They bring Nite Life in in under 25 minutes. They hit all the jokes at AM show. I stay in yet another ancient dank basement dorm (what’s the deal with NGU & basement dorms?) and have a good late night conversation with the director. There’s a new bagel place across the street. I’m gone before lunch but haven’t left in my heart. As soon as I drove on campus, it was 2006, it was 2004, it was 1987. In a world where the Frozen Donkey Wheel is off its axis and camp becomes unstuck in time, North Greenville is my constant. (mom, that’s a “LOST” reference)

It’s 2006. I’m a youth minister taking my students to camp at North Greenville, now University. A lot has changed: new cafeteria, new student center. . I’ve built a lot of the programming this year, which is being butchered. I don’t know how to let go. I can’t unplug. But I’m the customer. I have students here. I’m utterly lost. I’m confused. I have a grievously wounded soul. It’s close to the end of the Starbucks Years. I spend a lot of time alone in the prayer garden. They put us on the basement floor of a dorm (different from 1987). I make four guys who slept through quiet time get up at 6 to pick up garbage around campus. I think David would be proud. Casey and I go to great lengths to embarrass our guys in front of girls they’re trying to impress. A parent all but eviscerates me for not taking her son to the hospital when jumped through a window and busted his leg open. A kid accepts Christ. Another one feels a call to the mission field. It’s a good week.

It’s 2004. I get a phone call from James Jackson telling me they’ve had a program director drop out of camp on them two weeks before camp is to start. He asks if I can go and spend a weekend with this team and get them ready for camp. I’m freelance, I wrote the drama. I’m available. He tells me it’s North Greenville College. I spend an intensive two days in rehearsals with these staffers who don’t realize what they’ve gotten themselves into by agreeing to act. But they respond well and we manage to put a decent performance together. In the seventeen years since I’ve been here almost nothing has changed. The curb where we did “line up”. The tennis courts. The cafeteria.

It’s 1987. I’m an 8th grader attending Centrifuge at North Greenville College. The theme is “On Track” with a sweet railroad motif and I’m staying with Craig and Mr. B in an ancient basement dorm room. The R.A.’s name is Vern, and he’s a tool. There’s a guy from Kuwait in my Bible study and Craig makes out with girl named Paige, whom I later see making out with some other guy. (Sorry Craig, didn’t know if you knew that, but it’s about time someone broke the news to you.) We’ve come to North Greenville by way of Hilton Head and a couple of kids got roasted at the beach. We’re talking blisters that burst and make their shirts stick (quite painfully) to their bodies. The cafeteria is not so great. But I meet a lot of people and really like this thing called camp.

(edit)

I’m trying, but I can’t think of another place that is so singularly locked to spiritual markers across my life. North Greenville…and He’s the God of the unlikely.

It goes to 11 (but actually 860)

Shannon,

So one day and eleven years ago was the event. You wore white and surprised me with a bagpipe player. I think my favorite part of the day though, was when I first saw you. We were given “that moment” together in the sanctuary before pictures and I stood nervous down at the foot of the steps in this church we had grown up in, gotten engaged in, wanting this moment to be motion picture perfect. And then you bebopped into the room. You said,

“Hey babe!

And sauntered down the aisle like we were meeting for coffee or something, totally wrecking my movie moment, but totally making it one of the best memories of my life. That’s you…and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I couldn’t survive if it was any other way.

You are the freaking coolest wife ever. The deeper we get into this thing, the more I see how much I need you and how perfect you are for me. How whatever preconceived notions I might have had are ridiculous (and long gone). How God knows…He knows! What I need. He gave me you. I am thankful. I am grateful. I am blessed.

Another favorite memory: Closing on the Pebble Drive house. You turning your charm up to eleven to make the lawyer smile because this was a happy day for you and you weren’t going to let him kill your buzz.

When people I meet find out about the kids I say, “yeah. Shannon and I look at each other just about every day and say ‘we have a lot of kids.” I know we don’t say it so much any more, but I like saying it because it makes us sound like a team. The truth though, is that you do a lot more of the work for our team than I do (as I type this at The Dripolator in Black Mountain, NC!!!). And I want you to know how grateful I am for that. When it comes to our children, I would be lost without you. Yes I know how to change a diaper and I know how Jacob likes his waffles and that Lorelei likes her oatmeal dry and where the good spot on Asher’s Hard Blanket is. But it’s not about the stuff. It’s about how well you love them. Your attitude for them. I know very few moms who would: 1. Set up a four person tent in their living room and 2. Leave it up for a week so the kids could have a camp out in it. That’s a special kind of love. I know there are hard days and days you want to wring their necks, but we both know that’s just frustration with the moment, and has nothing to do with how you feel about them. I tell you this all the time, but I don’t know if you really hear me: I don’t care that the house isn’t spotless all the time. I don’t care that the laundry piles up or that this sink is full dishes. Because I know you’re coloring with Lorelei. You’re playing cars with Asher. You’re clapping with Piper. You’re loving our children—raising our family. That is so much more important than anything else! I can’t thank you enough for loving Jacob and Lorelei, Asher and Piper so well.

And now you’re mortified that OTHER PEOPLE are reading that our laundry isn’t done and our sink is full of dirty dishes. ATTENTION OTHER PEOPLE: LIFE IS HARD. IT IS NOT PERFECT. IT’S NOT A 30 SECOND COMMERCIAL FOR PINE-SOL OR DOWNY. LAUNDRY STACKS UP BECAUSE THERE’S A BASEBALL GAME AND GYMNASTICS AND CUB SCOUTS AND A BIRTHDAY PARTY AND NEIL GOES OUT OF TOWN A LOT. And we have a lot of kids who like to play with their mother.

There’s something to be said for your tolerance of Wagoneers and tattoos and failed businesses and Apple computers. But I’ve come to recognize that it’s more than tolerance. It’s your ferocious desire to protect the dreamer in me, even when it costs you. The beautiful thing is that I already see you doing the same for our kids. I don’t know how to thank you for this. I don’t know how you do it. I only know that your belief in me is the beginning of my confidence.

So all in all it’s been a pretty good eleven years (he says as an understatement with a dramatic lisp). The Student Life Years. The Starbuck’s Years. The 16 months on Lilac Circle. The 06 build. It’s made us stronger. I like to think it’s made us funnier (at least to each other). I love how much we make each other laugh these days. I love that I can’t wait to get home to see you.

I think back to that retreat we went on—the one where Wayne Baldwin told you I was a diamond in the rough and that you should give me a chance. I know I’m still pretty rough. But I know that whatever polishing I’ve been through I have you to thank.

I love you.

neil

A Compendium of Welding Songs

Hello again,

I know I said I'd see you in June. That's me--unpredictable. I'm an enigma.

So when you do as much welding as I'm having to do, you have a lot of time to think. And you listen to ALOT of music. So you need variety and you need a bunch of it. But there are certain songs you keep coming back to to get you through the night. So here, Neil's top ten songs to weld to (in case you ever find yourself in need of a welding playlist, as opposed to a wedding playlist which lots of people want. This playlist would be entirely innappropriate for that, but maybe humourous...).

10. Matchbox 20 "How Far We've Come"
A little trendy, but I like the apocaplyptic language in it. Also its got a good beat, and I can weld to it.

9. David Bowie & Queen "Under Pressure"
Classic song that keeps me focused on what I'm doing.

8. Coldplay "Twisted Logic"
Cause sometimes you go backwards. And sometimes you go forwards.

7. Jars of Clay "Work"
"I have no fear of drowning. It's the breathing that's taking all this work"

6. Led Zeppelin "Kashmir"
That guitar riff.

5. Beastie Boys "Sabotage"
Just raw. and nasty. and raw.

4. Seal "Come and See What Love Has Done"
The soother, the breath of fresh air, because hope is a good thing.

3. Saul Williams "List of Demands"
I dig this guy. He's my kind of slam poet. And this song makes things happen (also featured in the Nike Sparq commercial).

2. David Crowder Band "You Are My Joy"
When I first heard this song, I knew it was for me. I felt like somebody else finally Got It--the way I feel when an idea sparks and a script comes out. "And He set me on fire//I am burning alive//with His breath in my lungs//I am coming undone//and I cannot hold it in//and remain composed...Actually this song is what sparked the idea for my long-awaited but imminent ink. (plus, you know fire...welding...it just goes)

1. Rage Against the Machine "Bulls on Parade"
Always been my welding song. Always will be. When the tank's dry and I've still got hours to go, I'll just put this one on repeat and let it drive me.

Honorable mentions: Saul Williams "Act III Scene 2", Rage "Wake Up", Explosions in the Sky "Remember Me As a Time of Day", Crowder "Do Not Move", The Who "Who Are You"

Happy welding. or wedding, if that's your thing.

sleep now. see you in June.

it's late & I'm still at the office (but actually 429)

Hello Blog,

It’s me. I used to write on you (to you? At you?).

I just wanted to say the drought is almost over. Camp’s almost done, which means lots of road time. I’ve got a backlog of half-finished thoughts to dust off and bring to you. Plus there’s some other stuff down in the basement that wants out.

So I’ll be back soon. But in the meantime, here’s some random things from my night.

+ I burned my ankle while welding. Yes. My ankle. For those of you who have never welded, it’s possible, and it happens. For those of you who have, you know it happens a lot.

+ some lines from songs I listened to while welding (alone) in the ‘Way basement.
…Sparks fly, and I find you there…
…deliver me…
….And it’s just you and me here now…
…and He set me on fire, I am burning alive…
…Rescue is coming…
which leads me to:

+ I’ve been subsisting on 6 month old playlists on my ipod, as my cpu died with my library on it and I haven’t been able to get it sorted out yet. So yes, that was all Crowder, there was some Jars mixed in, and it made for a pretty good night of meditation.

+ Except for the fact that my left ear bud gave up the ghost tonight. For those of you who have welded, you know what a solitary experience it is. For those of you that haven’t, it’s a solitary experience. And looking at the WGD should tell you how much solitary time I still have to go. So Neil’s got to do something about this ear bud situation. I have a C-note I was saving back in my iphone piggy bank. I guess I’ll have to wait, again, for that baby.

+ In an unrelated note of self-disclosure, I have four different mixes of Jelly Belly’s and a bag of dove dark chocolates in my office. These might be the only things keeping me sane right now. (For all of you who know what I’ve accomplished over the last six months that are about to come UNGLUED and start ranting at me for blowing it…step off. I only hit ‘em 150 or so calories at a time, and never more than once a day…well twice when I’m at the office for 16 hours like I am today.) Yes. Jelly Belly's. I've become a fiend for them in the last few months. They're the junk.

So that’s it. See you when camp’s on the road.

Sincerely,

Neil

A Long Time Ago...in a childhood not so far away (but actually 1152, and worth every word)

Some of my friends recently did top 5 lists on their blogs and I think that's great but by the time I got around to it all the good answers had been taken, so I passed. Except for this one thing: most had Star Wars on their list of movies they wished they'd seen in the theater.

Check mark, suckers.

And not only did I see it in the theater, I saw it three times in the theater. I was five, but I was there, and I remember it clearly. In fact, the first time we went to see it, it sold out. I was standing with Brent in a line about a hundred people long when the manager came out and announced it was sold out. This was my first trip to the movies and back then they didn’t do multiple screens, so Brent, in a quick moment of inventiveness, took us to see Pete's Dragon instead. Which I also remember clearly.

People may say, “Neil, there’s no way you can remember that.” But back then…no dvd’s. No vcr’s. No cable. We didn’t have media at our fingertips in a constant stream. Saturday morning cartoons were all we had, a moment like this was revolutionary for a five year-old.

So Star Wars is the second movie I saw In The Theater. And the first I saw multiple times. To say it marked me is understating it. Imprinted is a better word. I’m not one for dressing up and conventions, but I am a FAN. I played Star Wars for years after that…standing on my friend Thad’s bed to swing across the chasm in the Death Star…fighting over who got to be Luke…every Wednesday night on the church playground where the tire-jungle-gym was our Millennium Falcon and the tractor was the Xwing…I had the Darth Vader carrying case for all my action figures. Han Solo had lost a head somewhere and I didn’t care. Leia could kiss his neck…I drove around on the Thursday before Ep. IV reopened to every theater asking for the manager, saying, “I know it’s “opening” tomorrow, but I also know you usually get the reels on Tuesday…” At the third theater, the manager said, “be here a 11:45, bring your own food.” So I saw the rerelease of all three the night before, at midnight…I saw all the new ones at midnight…Jar Jar didn’t bother me that much…in Ep. II when Yoda comes tapping in with his cane, my heart started thumping. When he lit that laser sword (how do you describe a moment of fruition you’ve been imagining for twenty years?)…I drove to Walmart at three in the morning after that to buy the soundtrack…and even though the writing was crappy at best, when Ep. III came out, it was a milestone event, I had spent my whole life with this story, and it was finally concluding. I was closing a book I had been reading for thirty years.

Then I had some kids and the adventure started all over. They watched the originals with mixed results, but Star Wars found it’s groove with Jacob in the Clone Wars. He loves it. He was Luke for Halloween this year. He plays Star Wars on the playground with the neighborhood kids. So a couple of Saturdays ago we’re at Brent and Mil’s, and what has magically appeared in the toy closet? My Darth Vader carrying case? I haven’t seen that thing in at least ten years, and Jacob is glued to it. Of course he doesn’t recognize any of the figures. He looks at me like I’m crazy when he holds up who he thinks is Count Dooku and I tell him it’s Obi Wan. The Moment though, is when he finds Yoda and asks me where his lightsaber is, and I explain to him that when I was his age, Yoda didn’t have a lightsaber, how long I’d waited to see it, and how old he (Jacob) was when I finally saw Yoda Light It Up.

With kids you can never tell what sticks. I couldn’t tell how interested Jacob was in my story about Yoda’s lightsaber, but he asked if we could have lunch at Mimi & Poppy’s on Sunday (because he wanted to play with the Star Wars figures…YES!!!) But Sunday morning rolls around and we’re walking through church and he sees his friend Jacob Boyd and proceeds to recount to him every detail of the Yoda story.

I’m not sure who told him, but somehow he knows there’s Star Wars stuff at Disney World. And that’s all he wants to do. I remember the “Star Tours” ride, and while I don’t think it’s anything to write about, I want Jacob to have a great experience, so I’m committed to making it as awesome as possible. Day 2 is Hollywood (formerly MGM) Studios day. Jamie picks up the show times for the day and tells us there’s a Jedi training show over by the Star Tours, starting in five minutes. I think, “A Jedi Training Show? We can’t miss that!” So off we dash.

I don’t know what I was expecting…honestly I don’t think I even got that far. I just didn’t want Jacob to miss the show. What I got easily ranks in the Top Five Moments of Fatherhood, right after the four births, replacing Jacob’s first hit in baseball for number five.

The Jedi comes out and tells the crowd he’s here to train younglings in the way of the force and he starts pulling kids on stage. At first I thought it would be three or four, and although Jacob had shouldered to the front and was jumping up and down, I didn’t think he’d make it.


But he took about fifteen or so, including Jacob, and I thought, “Okay, this will last for a minute or two. It’ll be great.”

But then they start handing out robes…


…and lightsabers, and he’s teaching them a sword routine…


…I’m running like mad, trying to get a good angle against the sun, and then the music starts, the stormtroopers come out…

…and then this guy…


Neil’s interior monologue: “Attention, attention, we’ve entered a new condition.”

Still it’s not registering what’s going to happen. I think “this is awesome! Jacob’s on stage with Vader, and he’s going to get to see this guy fight him!”

Then they start lining kids up…


…And my childhood fantasies are fulfilled in my son.



To say it was dusty out there…well, I was a little emotional. He was awarded a certificate promoting him from Youngling to Padawan. I’m framing it for him.

It’s a little dusty right now.

So Jacob locked lightsabers with Darth Vader and now he’s a Padawan.



(edit)

I took over 500 pictures at Disney, and you’ll be able to see them on my Facebook in the next few days. More stories to come.

Pennsays...

How about this? Thanks to MicahD for putting me onto it.

Asher the Basher (But actually 351)

Alright. It’s time to climb out of the rathole I’ve been spiraling down for the last 2 months.

Sunday morning I’m sitting in the Toile (pronounced TWALL) Chair in Shannon’s and my bedroom, putting my shoes on. Next to the Toile Chair is Shannon’s dresser. And on top of the dresser are some pictures of Shannon and I. Asher bebops in and here’s our conversation:



Asher: What are you doing?
Me: I’m putting my shoes on.
Asher: To got to work?
Me: No. We’re going to church.
Asher: I don’t want to go to church.
Me: You don’t?
Asher: I want to go to school.
Me: But it’s Sunday. We’re all going to church.
Asher: I don’t want to go to my class. I want to go to school.
Me: You don’t like you’re class?
Asher: (picks up a picture from the dresser of Shannon and I with Jacob at about 2 and Lorelei at about 6 mos.) who’s this?
Me: Who is that?
Asher: Mommy and Daddy.
Me: That’s right.
Asher: And that’s Jacob and Piper.
Me: No. That’s Lorelei when she was a baby.
Asher: That’s not Piper?
Me: That’s Lorelei.
Asher: Where’s Asher?
Me: You weren’t born yet.
Asher: (Pointing at Shannon’s stomach) In mommy’s belly?
Me: No. We hadn’t even thought of you yet. You just…weren’t.
Asher: And this is a band-aid! (producing a band-aid out of nowhere. The real reason he’s come in.)
Me: (shaken out of my wonder of trying to remember life before Asher, laughing) Yes. It is.
Asher: Put it on!
Me: Okay. Where?
Asher: Thumb! (which he sticks in my face.)

(I do. It’s the largest size band-aid they make that doesn’t have the words “gauze pad” in it. It wraps around his thumb and wrist.)

Asher: That feels better!
Me: Good!
Asher: (picks up a clay jar from the bookshelf and takes the lid off. Then sips out of it.) That’s good coffee!



I can’t believe how awesome he is. I wonder if God is utterly delighted by my antics the way I am by Asher’s. I hope so.