The O's at the mic

Mrs O and I were recently invited to participate in a sermon series at The Highland Vineyard Church in Louisville, Kentucky.  We were delighted!  It's not something we have a whole bunch of experience doing, but we have had a lot of fun.  It has been a blessing to us and I pray that it was a blessing to everyone else as well.

I'm attaching the audio in a link in this post below.  This is the second of three.  You can listen to the audio for "The Myth of the Greener Grass" presented November 18 by The O's.

In order not to inundate anyone with more than you can listen to at one time, later in the week I'll send along "The Myth that Everybody's Doing It" presented by Mrs O yesterday.  

Me and the mic

Mrs O and I were recently invited to participate in a sermon series at The Highland Vineyard Church in Louisville, Kentucky.  We were delighted!  It's not something we have a whole bunch of experience doing, but we have had a lot of fun.  It has been a blessing to us and I pray that it was a blessing to everyone else as well.

I'm attaching the audio in a link in this post below.  I'm trying to figure out how to make a clip with our slides and everything, but I haven't figured out how to do that yet.  When I figure that out, perhaps I'll post it on one of the other pages.  In the meantime, you can listen to the audio for "The Myth of the Self Made Man" originally presented November 11 by me, Mr O.

In order not to inundate anyone with more than you can listen to at one time, later in the week I'll send along "The Myth of the Greener Grass" which we both presented on November 18 and "The Myth that Everybody's Doing It" presented by Mrs O yesterday.  

The Porcupine Tree

This is a story from my childhood that I tell to the boys sometimes before bed.  It's one of their favorites.

A long time ago when I was little and I lived at Grammie Munchkin's old house up in New Hampshire there was a tree called the porcupine tree.  We called it the porcupine tree because sometimes we would see a porcupine sitting up in the top at night.

We would come home sometimes in the dark after the sun went to bed.  As the car came up the driveway, the headlights would shine in the backyard.  Sometimes, there was a porcupine in the backyard and when he saw the lights, he would run as fast as he could--which was not very fast--over to this little hemlock tree.  He would climb up the tree all the way to the tippity top to a place where there weren't many branches and we could see him sitting up there.

My brother also like to climb the porcupine tree.  He would climb up to that same spot at the tippity top where there weren't many branches and look out.  I had a favorite climbing tree which was not far away down the hill by the rope swing behind the brush pile toward the swamp.  It was also a hemlock tree and I would climb near the top to a place where I could sit comfortably and look out and see my brother sitting up in the porcupine tree.

I would sometimes pretend that I was in a castle watchtower or some other place where it was my critical duty to guard the backyard from the evil that was trying to penetrate it.  In reality, there was very little evil trying to penetrate our backyard, so that game didn't last long.

Truth be told, all the fun was in getting up to the top of our climbing trees and not in the fabricated drama.  I was not made for drama.  By the time I got to my sitting spot I'd had my fun and the game was all but over.

Many thanks

Several months ago, we went on an extended family vacation.  Aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, and of course, Grammie and Grandpa.  We all stayed in a cabin in the Smoky Mountains.  One of the favorite things about the week, according to my boys, was the game room--Pac Man, pool, juke box, giant TV, and more.

Since we have been home--over a month now--Little S has been consistently mentioning the 'vacation house' when he prays before we eat.

The funny thing is, he doesn't ask for another vacation.

He doesn't ask to live at the vacation house.

He doesn't ask for a game room at home.

He just says, "Thank you, for our vacation house."

I could learn a lot from that little guy.

Too many definitions

In a book I read a while back, there was this central topic that just didn't sit right with me.  It is a common idea, but I just think it's slightly off.  At first, it might sound like semantics, but I think there's a greater truth at stake.

The book gave what it called the definition of a man.  It listed things like character, integrity. . . you know, all that stuff.

Good stuff.

Great stuff.

I don't like it.  You know why?

Because sometimes, I do those things.

Sometimes, I don't.

Do I cease to be a man if I tell a lie?

No.

I am a man.

Those things are just standards of behavior.  They don't actually define me as a man.

Honesty doesn't define me to be a man.  It defines me as honest, or dishonest.

Character doesn't define me to be a man.  It describes the kind of man I am.

You only need one thing to be defined a man.

A 'Y' chromosome.

. . . some of you thought I was going to say something else, but you could actually cut that off and you would still be a man.  You might walk funny, but that's another story.

Why do I think this is so important?

Because, I think it's critical to realize that there are some things I choose.  There are also some things I don't get to choose about myself.  I don't get to choose WHO I get to be.  I get to choose HOW I get to be.  I choose the actions I take and they determine where I am going.

You don't have to try to be a man.  You either are or you aren't.

Be honest.

Be faithful.

Be kind.

Be compassionate.

Be passionate.

Be confident.

Be secure.

Be wise.

Be you.

Eight for eight

(c) 2004 Eric Graf photography 

Eight years and counting.  That's 2920 days, plus a couple of leap days and a couple of days since our actual anniversary this past week.  I can't believe it's been that long.  Doesn't seem like it could have possibly been more than 2500!  I guess time really flies when you're having fun.

And, I AM having fun!

So, to celebrate our anniversary, here are 8 words that embody my favorite things about my Mrs O. . . with some short explanations.  I can only be so concise, you know.

8. Security.  Mrs O is equally at home enjoying a steak at Ruth's Chris or hush puppies at The Cracker Barrel.

7. Leisure.  She enjoys all manner of British dramas, reading books, and lying in the hammock--everything's better together.

6. Thoughtfulness.  She often comes home from the grocery store with stinky cheese for me!

5. Brains.  She has an amazing vocabulary and insists that people who cuss only do so because they can't say it more intelligently.

4. Strength.  Whether we're playing scrabble or debating miscellaneous issues we're equally matched--she poses a formidable challenge!

3. Equality.  We're even more perfectly matched as teammates.

2. Beauty.  She's beautiful, inside and out.

1. Whimsy.  She is 100% herself--all the time, no matter what.

Thanks for saying 'yes,' Mrs O.  I love you.

Everybody Welcome

Recently, the boys went through a lesson on the civil rights movement.  They were appalled at the notion that some people had to go to one place and the rest of the people had to go somewhere else.  They couldn't fathom a world where everybody isn't welcome.

Then, we read The Berenstein Bears No Girls Allowed.  The boys LOVED the idea of a clubhouse.  We talked about what the clubhouse would look like and what it needed.  There were three requirements: rope ladder, lookout tower, and a sign--the wording of which is still being debated.  Oh, and my only requirement was that it be big enough that I can play up there, too!

We all worked feverishly to plan exactly what this project would look like.  We used Grandpa's drafting tools and had many lessons on perspective which, no doubt, were absorbed despite the appearance of going in one ear and out the other!

We also had some lessons in the proper use and care of tools, and the boys worked very hard on each stage of the process.

Now, for the sign.

Silas' vote: "100 Girls Allowed."

If he were a teenager, I'd be concerned about that.

I suggested that we simply say, "Everybody Welcome."

Elliot liked that suggestion, however, he was concerned that the clubhouse wouldn't fit EVERYone.  "It only fits 5 or 6 people," after all.

I guess we'll have to have post the maximum occupancy per fire code.

Perhaps, our sign could just say, "Welcome!"