If you know me, you know what the title means.

A special prayer room, a full week of prayer. I started on Sunday at midnight to 1AM, continued my shift 2AM through 3:30 AM Sunday morning. I should have stayed until 4, and let the staff sleep. That has bothered me all week. Two of my daughters with me for an hour, my wife with me for another.

Dawn found sanctuary in the “green closet”. No surprise there. : )

First thing I read on my journey was a post-it note that read “I forgive the Hannibals”. Damn. That speaks.

It’s very humbling to feel you are the filthiest object in the room. Thank God for grace.

My replacement didn’t show up. Like a dummy I followed the rules and called the number for the staff, then prayed for whoever it was that didn’t come. They missed out on so much. I should have just stayed another hour when it was apparent they were a no show. Lisa lost some sleep because of me. I’m sorry …

I felt cleansed. I am greedy for that feeling again.

From a magician friend in Spain; “The word for ‘cards’ in Spanish is in the feminine. It pleases me to know this. The deck is like a woman; if you hold it to tightly, you crush it. If you hold it to loose, it flies away. If you don’t show it the proper respect, you will never understand it’s many mysteries.”

I have heard the opinion of men I respect regarding the sensationalism of the end times. Certain books, movies and songs have played upon the fear of well meaning Christians for what seems like nothing more than making a quick, easy buck. (I’m thinking of YOU, Kirk Cameron.)

Just when I thought I had seen the bottom of the barrel, someone made the barrel deeper. There’s a website where, for just $40 a year, you can send a message to your loved ones who miss the rapture. That’s right kids - their database will automatically send out a message for up to 62 of your friends and family six days after the rapture occurs.

(How do they know?) Glad you asked. According to the services page, if 3 or more of their 5 Christian agents fail to log in for 6 days in a row - the message goes out to the email addresses you supply that you have been raptured and they have been Left Behind.

I hate to give the jerks the hits - but to show this isn’t just a product of my twisted sense of humor; www.youvebeenleftbehind.com

But now, Casual Reader, I must leave you with a dilemma. Would Jesus click that link?

A thousand people in the square today
Pushing by - never come face to face
There might as well be no-one here at all
And I’m so lonely I could cry myself to sleep
I’m hungry for some kind of sign from You
Any excuse for something to say
I’m trembling now there’s nothing I can do
I’m scared in case I scare you away
I wouldn’t ask you for anything
I wouldn’t play no silly games
We don’t need to be lovers
But we could talk just the same

I know theres a place you walked
Where love falls from the trees
My heart is like a broken cup
I only feel right on my knees

I spit out like a sewer hole
Yet still receive your kiss
How can I measure up to anyone
After such a love as this?

Woke up this morning, did a nice little family show at a local festival.

The moment it was over, as I was packing up my show, I felt a twinge in my side.  Must be hungry.

Got home, ate about half of lunch - then doubled over in searing pain, as though I had been stabbed. (Yep, been there.) Lunch came back up. Violently. Repeatedly.

Assumed it was exhaustion or dehydration or both. Been on the move lately. Tried to sleep. No good. Tried to drink - nothing stays down because I’m hurting so bad.

Back story; my father was killed by pancreatic cancer. His symptoms are almost the same as mine, and the pain is increasing.

Dawn rushes me to hospital in the driving rain. Praying the whole way. Long wait in the waiting room. Long wait in the exam room. CAT scan. Pain killers (finally).

Verdict comes in: kidney stones. This too shall pass.

Never hurt so bad before. Never been  more scared. Never more grateful for pain, once I learned the source.  Through it all, I could hear a comforting voice. Peace. Be Still.

Large amounts of drugs, now. Waiting for my stone to leave.

Ow.

Garfield Minus Garfield

Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolor disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb.

What do you call liars who accuse liars, my friend?

… by a Big Friendly Giant.

I took the children to BFG, playing at the Children’s Theater at Imaginon on Wednesday morning. We enjoy live theater and we belong to a home schooling group that embraces the arts - as a bonus, my friend and occasional collaborator Nathan Rouse was playing several key roles.

This play is one of the highlights of the CT season. Great story (originally by Roald Dahl of ‘Charlie & the Chocolate Factory’ and ‘James & the Giant Peach’ fame), creative use of sets and props and directed in a way to spark the imagination. Most every variety of puppet style is represented, from shadow to hand to inverted marionette - and a cast talented enough to not only act but manipulate their counterparts.

Mr. Rouse was in fine form (call me biased). Playing a bloodthirsty mega giant, a Headmaster that would put Denny Terrio (look it up) to shame and the subtly sarcastic Mr. Tibbs - valet to none other than the Queen of England.

Five stars - catch it if you can!

Somewhere in history you were wronged
Teach your children to bang the drum
Tell all your family, tell all your friends
Teach your brothers to avenge

It carries on

Or you could Love.