I've got a sweet looking rose bush outside my kitchen window and it always reminds me of a question we ask in my men's group.

We go around the circle and ask each guy to share about a "Rose", which would be something good going on in their lives. And then we ask about the "Thorns", which would of course be the bad stuff going on.

It's always been good to ask our guys both. It forces us to find the good that's happening in the midst of the crappy stuff, and also helps us to think of the "room for improvement" or bad areas when everything seems to be going peachy.

Care to share a rose and thorn?

Everyone's got a story.

I met Harold yesterday. He was sitting alone in his wheelchair outside of the public library in Downtown Cincinnati. A friend and I had been walking around taking a few photos and Harold noticed the camera around my neck.



"Are you gonna take my picture?" He said as I walked up.

I asked him if he really wanted me to and he said, "Oh yeah, yeah...take my picture!"

I snapped a photo of Harold and then my friend and I extended hands and introduced ourselves to him. He said his name was Harold, but I already knew that from the name badge he had proudly displayed on his mid-section. Harold was the resident of some sort of assisted living home...our conversation proved quickly that he wasn't there for a lack of mental capacity. He was sharp, quick-witted, well-spoken, and from what I could tell, entirely with it.



It was pretty easy to see that something wasn't right though. Aside from his physical disability, which we learned had something to do with a spinal disorder, he had an overwhelming sadness to his eyes. The kind of sadness that goes far deeper than a temporary smile could ever cover up. I'm not entirely sure how it happened but within a few short minutes Harold told us that he hadn't been out of prison for very long. He mentioned matter-of-factly that he was locked up for 35 years for an armed robbery charge and murder.



He didn't seem remorseful...not even nervous really. Harold just looked down at his chocolate bar, broke off a piece, popped it into his mouth and then offered us some. He said that he's addicted to chocolate.



Harold liked my tattoos and he began to show me the ink he got in prison. Somehow tattoos have a special way of connecting people to one another. He told us he loves the artwork and that we wouldn't believe how good some of those inkslingers are in prison. "I'm an artist myself" he said, telling us about his favorite mediums and whatnot.



Harold was lonely, and it was pretty obvious that he was excited to have someone to talk to. He had come to the library to get some music as he does every month or two. He was waiting for the bus to come and pick him up and we just happened to stop as he extended an invitation for conversation. I'm really glad we stopped to talk with Harold...How many Harolds do we pass up each day? We crave companionship.



A man named Leo Buscaglia once said "We need others. We need others to love and we need to be loved by them. There is no doubt that without it, we too, like the infant left alone, would cease to grow, cease to develop, choose madness and even death."

As we parted ways I had this incompleteness in me that felt like I should have done something more. That maybe we should have prayed for Harold or talked to him about God. I'm comforted by the fact that it doesn't have to be over though. He told us about the home where he lives and invited us to come and see him some time.

We might just have to do that.

Dear Wedding DB,

Please allow me to introduce myself. I was the guy hiding in an obscure location with my wife and offspring as I didn't know anyone at the wedding on Saturday. You may have seen me walking around with an aloof look on my face searching for a restroom. Other common treks of mine included multiple trips to the chocolate fountain where I dipped marshmallows and cookies into a molten river of flowing calories. I was wearing black, pin-striped pants with a white shirt and a black vest. I had a beautiful blonde woman with me who was so dang sexy that it looked like a Julia Roberts / Lyle Lovett attempt. We own a small girl who could have been seen chasing balloons and dancing wildly...also, she could easily be found stealing M&M favors off of people's tables.

So that's us. Maybe you noticed us and maybe you didn't. I'm going to go ahead and assume you didn't notice us since you were so enthralled by your work. You're work my friend...now that was amazing. Never have I seen someone with so much skill and passion for what they do. Douchebaggery is clearly a calling and I would continue to pursue what fuels your flame. I want to encourage you to try branching out from your normal routine. Like how about when:

* You totally disregaurded the fact that a wedding reception was going on and belly-laughed obnoxiously during toasts and speeches...maybe in the future you could even throw in a loud racial slur for some extra pizazz.

Or how about when:

* You and your other two chain-wallet pals (of whom you were clearing the ring-leader) stood in a circle of constant chuckling, re-living the glory-days of your 84' Nova and ogled every woman who walked by with absolutely no shame or reserve...maybe in the future you could actually be the bartender...it would force the women to interact with you which I hear is even better than just looking at them.

Or how about when:

You thought it somehow appropriate or funny to walk around stomping on balloons during the Mother/Son dance. You are the wind beneath my wings never sounded so good as when having random balloons popping loudly, scaring babies and old people into tears. Good work. Who knew that cowboy boots would be such an awesome tool of the trade when it comes to high-stepping some little latex air globes. It was an especially nice touch the way your curly-cue mullet bounced around as you trotted back and fourth with that "no one here matters but me" look on your face. Maybe in the future you could step on my child rather than a balloon in front of her...I bet the other chain-wallets would find it hilarious.

Keep up the good work sir...you were made for what you do. Perhaps we will meet again at some other strange wedding. You helped me stay an additional two hours at this particular wedding on stare-factor alone...thanks.

Sincerely yours,
Someone of little consequence


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And now to allow the Holy Spirit to speak to me. Dangit. This guy was so annoying to me and he obviously has some social downfalls, but dagnabbit if God doesn't love him just as much as He loves me. Dagnabbit if Jesus didn't die for him just as He died for me.

Lord, I pray that you would be the everything in his life...if you already aren't.

AKA a completely random post.

Here is 90 minutes of my life compressed into 32 seconds. 1 photo was taken every 5 seconds while I ate lunch, did some web updates, and caught up on a little reading. Very exciting.



And here is an amazing poem I came across. It's called The Calf Path and it was written by Sam Walter Foss.

One day, through the primeval wood,
A calf walked home, as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail, as all calves do.

Since then three hundred years have fled,
And, I infer, the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.

The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bellwether sheep
Pursued the trail o’er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bellwethers always do.

And from that day, o’er hill and glade,
Through those old woods a path was made,
And many men wound in and out,
And dodged and turned and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because ’twas such a crooked path;
But still they followed — do not laugh —
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding wood-way stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.

This forest path became a lane,
That bent, and turned, and turned again.
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet.
The road became a village street,
And this, before men were aware,
A city’s crowded thoroughfare,
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed that zigzag calf about,
And o’er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They follow still his crooked way,
And lose one hundred years a day,
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.

They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move;
But how the wise old wood-gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf!
Ah, many things this tale might teach —
But I am not ordained to preach.

Sometimes you buy large containers of almonds at Sam's club only to realize that you don't really like plain almonds all that much. This can lead to Marzipan.

First things first - let's toss 4 cups of almonds into our handy dandy little food processor and grind them up. We should end up with something like this:



Now let us combine 2/3 cup water and 2 cups of sugar (organic cane sugar of course...haha with my pinky in the air for added fanciness) in a sauce pan.





Pop that sauce pan onto the stove and begin melting the sugar and water together over a medium heat.

Now we need to grab a couple of farm-fresh eggs. (thanks Melanie!)



Separate the whites from the eggs and toss the yolks...or you could eat the raw yolks Hulk Hogan style...it's up to you really.





Now lets check back on our sugar water and give it a stir.



At this time it would be good to get an ice water bath started. In the sink is probably easiest.



See this stuff?



Measure out about 1/4 teaspoon. Mix that in with the sugar water mixture.



After the Cream of Tartar is mixed in...we need to bring the sugar up to a boil for about 3 minutes or so. If you've got a candy thermometer you will want it around 240°...I've got a digital thermometer that is fairly accurate, so I just made sure it was withing range.



After a few minutes of this:



Toss some powdered sugar on to a cutting board or clean workspace.



Now get that mixture cooled down by placing the pan into the ice water bath and keep stirring it until it gets thick.





Now that the mixture has thickened a bit, we can add our egg whites and almonds.





Now throw that mix back onto the stove over medium heat until it all mixes up together and becomes like a paste.



Spread your powdered sugar around the cutting board area and dump out your Marzipan to cool.



You can move it around until it stays and doesn't run off the edges...allow the Marzipan to cool until it's pliable.



It should look a little something like this:



Now this part is optional. I've got cocoa powder and a little cinnamon mixed into a bowl.



Pinch off a piece of Marzipan and roll it into a small ball. Now roll that ball around in the cocoa/cinnamon mix.



You end up with little Marzipan Truffles.



Dust them with a little powdered sugar and you've got a treat fit for anyone. Careful though...this little boogers are addictive.

Landscaping and gardening are sacred to me. The entire process of planning, buying, planting, maintaining, and even weeding is an easy way for me to slow down just enough for my cloudy mind to clear, and the sunshine to flow in. Each year I get the bug a little more and this year is no different...I've got it bad right now. All I want to do is work in the gardens. It's so fulfilling to see the work of your hands cause something to look better, healthier, more full of life.



The husbandry of the garden mimics so many areas in our lives. The commitment we take caring for plants, flowers, trees and shrubs is not unlike the investment we make in the human. Feed it, water it, nurture it, and it will thrive. Allow it to go hungry, dry, alone, and it will surely shrivel away to nothing eventually. Even those that we think are hardy...those that seem to need not much care at all...they too will inevitably wither and fade. Unless they are Honeysuckles. There are always Honeysuckles.



I've been doing a few landscaping jobs lately and it's been a blast. Extra money never hurts and it's something I truly enjoy doing. So if you need help in that area...let me know.

What's something that you just lose yourself in?

In an effort to be more environmentally conscious AKA cheap, I have decided to enroll myself into a Plastic Cup Challenge. This challenge consists of writing your name on a disposable plastic up and telling everyone you know that you'll gouge out their eyes if they throw your cup away. Easy peasy.

So far, I'm up to day six with my little blue Solo cup. I wrote my name on it in big letters with a fat Sharpie marker and I have used only this blue cup to drink out of since starting the challenge. Not counting drinking wine out of a wine glass because I just can't bring myself to sip a nice Cabernet out of a plastic cup. I have not run my cup through the dishwasher (yet) as I just rinse it out quickly after I drink something. I return my blue cup to the same spot each day and I've yet to lose it. A miracle in itself if you ask me.

I'm quite curious to find out how long I can keep up this challenge. My goal? One year. I am professing publicly that I will try my hardest to use my plastic cup for one year...hold me to it now. Oh yeah...and I just ordered 150 of the 12oz. compostable cups from here:

http://www.worldcentric.org/store/placups.htm

Do you think I can make it a full year with "little blue"?

If I had to pick something to eat over and over every for either lunch or dinner...that item would have to be a Chipotle Burrito Bowl.

Rice. Black or Pinto Beans. Chicken. Cheese. Sour Cream. Hot Salsa. Oh how the Lord is good.

I can honestly say that I've eaten more Chipotle at this point than any other restaurant food in my life and I have yet to get sick of it. The worst it's even been was probably 4 times in one week. I know, I know.

But look:

I typically get the burrito bol, but every now and then I've got a craving for regular burrito with all it's tortilla goodness.

Here's my standard issue:

My Chipotle Burrito:

Chipotle Fan.com

I'm curious if I ate it every day for two weeks what would happen. This is an experiment I might have to conduct some day.

So what's your thing? What could you eat over and over and never get tired of it?

Building relationships with people is easy. Let me rephrase that. Building relationships with people is hard. Man was not created to be alone. We were created for community and anyone you meet without that community inherently lacks much in the blessing department of this life.

I suppose building relationships can become easier, as it can be a natural outflow of the love we have in our hearts. But, to say it's an easy process would be somewhat deceptive. Here are some things I've noticed:

* We have to get over ourselves. If I submit to my introverted nature, I'm not willing to put myself out there for the fear of rejection or just plain laziness. Often I've experienced a great relationship boost with someone just by sharing something about myself against my better judgment. I'll typically err on the side of divulging too much information about who I am for the possible benefit of a sparked connection. It's tough, and it's scary, and sometimes it doesn't work out...but it's worth it. I can't tell you how many guys I've told something along the lines of "Yeah, I've really had serious struggles with pornography over the years." Only to have that guy call me a couple weeks later to start the process of getting some help.

* We have to reach further. My friend Lee has always commented on the painting of God and man on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. It would seem that God is outstretched entirely reaching with all His might to make contact while Adam leans back casually, only to barely lift his left hand. Wow, what an effort Adam. This is not uncommon. There will almost always be a catalyst for the relationship and that has to be us. If we get ourselves into a place of thinking, well they don't even try to make this work...it's like a one way attempt. - YOU'RE RIGHT! They probably don't know how to make it work. Maybe they're shy. Maybe they haven't experienced good friendships and they're slow to trust. They need extra prompting and you're the person to provide it. We must be willing to sacrifice our pride for the amazing thing that will replace it.

* We have to do it again and again. When I'm shot down from someone in some way my inclination is to write them off. My heart becomes a little harder and I'm even slower to try again with someone else. It's been said that we must keep our hearts soft and allow our feet to become hard. A calloused heart is no good at all, but the callouses on our feet let us walk even further on this journey. Someone screwed you over? Forgive them. Restore the relationship as best you can. Release their throat from your grip. You put yourself out there only to be squished? Try again. Get creative and love them where they are. Put the ball in their court and let them know that you're there whenever they're ready. A soft heart and hard feet. The journey is the destination.

P.S. - I called my mom yesterday and wished her a happy Mother's Day. I've not done that in a few years. We talked for about 15 minutes and it was good.

I just finished reading The Shack and dangit if I didn't cry my little pink-polkadotted, Hello-Kitty, My-Little-Pony, sissy eyes out. That was a great book.

I didn't want it to be a great book...I wanted in all my wanting ability for that to be a totally crappy, lame squad book. It wasn't though...it was excellent. It made me feel all kinds of stuff that I didn't want to feel, but needed to.

Denise gave it to me and typically I hate books people give to me. I don't know what it is...I've got some kind of thing embedded in me that causes people to give me dorky books. This was not so, THANK YOU D-Money for the book! My men's group is actually starting a study on The Shack next week. We'll see where it takes us. Read it!


In other news, we are having a garage sale this Friday. I've been putting off cleaning out my garage in the hopes that it would burn down and I could collect some sort of insurance payout...that hasn't happened and I can't take it anymore. Ryan and I cleaned out everything yesterday and began sorting through the mess...an emergency garage sale is in order!

So if you're keen and hip and available on Friday from 8am - 2pm, stop by my house and buy something from me. Or you can bring stuff over that you'd like to sell. I'll only charge you an 84% commission. Be there or be square!