Randy Wray’s Blog

We get new windows today and the plumbing work begins.

I’ll make my first trip to the dump today.

Ah, the sanitary landfill?  How did those two words become linked?

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Psalm 39 will be our congregational reading for Sunday.  With the action and activity of moving still fresh on my mind (and my back) verses 5 & 6 hit home.

Everyone’s life is only a breath.  People are like shadows moving about.

All their work is for nothing; they collect things but don’t know who will get them.

"So, Lord, what hope do I have?  You are my hope.

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The title says it all.

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We caught the tail end of the American Idol finale — tuned in just in time to hear those previously voted off sing I get high with a little help from my friends — which prompted this conversation.

Me - I get high?  This is a drug song.

Other Person In The Room - No kidding, where have you been?  Many of the Beatles songs are about drugs?

Me - What?  Really?

Other Person In The Room - Hello?  (followed by some inappropriate comment about my intellect)

So I did a google and guess what?  Many of the Beatles songs are about drugs!  See that’s what happens when you spend all your time in the realm of CCM?

Next thing you’ll tell me is that Puff, The Magic Dragon is a drug related song.

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Seven days often feels like a week.

Today, seven days does not feel long enough. 

Seven days until we have to be out of the rental house and in the new house.

Seven days to finish packing & moving.

Seven days to replace doors, windows, relocate the washer, dryer and stove.

The Bible says God made the world in 6 days and on the seventh day He rested.

We’ve got seven days.  It may take a miracle.

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What seemed like a good idea, for one of our kindergarten students, turned out not to be such a good idea.  Even though he was able to stick his head through the opening in the chair (the opening is located right about where your lower back would be in the chair) he was unable to extricate himself.

Along time ago I studied, trained and was board certified as an EMT.  I keep a jump kit here at the office just in case we need onsite medical assistance.  When they came to get me yesterday saying they needed some medical assistance the medical mode switch engaged until I walked in and saw the situation.  It was hard not to laugh, but I was sure smiling.  From the look of the situation we needed someone in labor and delivery.  There was no way those shoulders were going to make it through that chair opening.

The novelty of having your head stuck in a chair must have worn off because the child asked the principal if he could go home.  The principal sympathetically said to the kid "you can’t go home with a chair stuck on your head."

We made a few attempts to coax the child back out of the chair but it was not to be.  He was agitated and couldn’t remember how he went in - which of course is probably the best way back out.  As I continued to evaluate the situation, from the corner of my mind, came a childhood memory. 

Along time ago when we lived in Central America we were driving by the soccer stadium.  A kid had climbed the walls and was trying to sneak into the game by crawling through the bars at the top of the fence.  Something happened and he got stuck and was dangling from the wall by his head.  Needless to say it was a perilous situation and my dad took action.  He found a long 2 x4 nearby that he used as a pry bar but still needed a key ingredient.  Retrieving the can of WD40 from the jeep he sprayed the kid’s head until it was well oiled.  With the right amount of leverage the kid slid right out and was on his way to freedom.

Funny how memories like that pop into your mind at just the right time. 

I figured, this being California and all, we’d have some kind of  lawsuit on our hands if I used WD40 so went to the kitchen looking for some cooking oil.  Here’s where I had to make a difficult choice.  Vegetable oil or Peanut oil?  Peanut oil is said to be better for you, less cholesterol and all that but what if the kid had a peanut allergy?   I soaked a kitchen towel with some 100% pure vegetable oil and applied it to the sides of the child’s head.  We held his legs and told him to pull his head back out and faster the getting Pooh Bear out of Rabbit’s house he was out.

I asked him if he learned anything.  He said he learned not to stick his head in the chair. 

Just another day of shaping and molding young minds. 

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I found something I dislike more than the designated hitter.  If you’re on the team and on the field you should hit.

Sanding floors.

The words sends chills up my spine.

Sanding floors.

Spent the entire weekend (except for that little break I got to go preach) working on the floors in just half the house.  I was actually tempted to preach a long sermon because it would delay going to work on the floors.

Sanding floors.

Another benefit of do it yourself home improvement is you discover areas of giftedness and areas of severe trial.

Sanding floors.

You should have seen the look on her face when I told Beth that sanding floors was not my gift and could I do something more in line with my giftedness.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t write a blog . . .

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Madison worked for hours this past week preparing a slide show for the school teacher appreciation dinner.  It was a thing of beauty.  It’s a beautiful thing to see your daughter create her first multi-media presentation.  I’m still a little misty eyed about the technological rite of passage.

The final step in the presentation was to add music.  She asked me to help and we selected just the right song.  To avoid setting up a lot of equipment we decided to run the show on my laptop and play the music over the sound system in our multi-purpose room.  Sounds easy enough right?

I made a CD that had the song track we would use.  The plan was to load the show, play the music and Madison would advance the slides as needed according to the music.

The song we chose was Remember Me by Mark Shultz as it fit perfectly with the presentation.  When the time came the lights dimmed, Madison took her place at the computer, she started the keynote show and the "sound operator" hit play and the music started.  The problem was he had the wrong disc in the five disc carousel.  I knew right away the song was wrong but Madison without the slightest hesitation started advancing the slides sequentially timed to the new song.

Did I mention the song was Regresa A Mi by Il Divo?  Quite the contrast, quite the different message.  I mean you can only like your teachers so much!  The only positive thing is that only a couple of us knew the Spanish words they were singing.  Yikes! 

As the sound operator looked at me I had a split second decision to make.  Stop and start over or press through and make the best of it.  For some reason I chose to press through and make the best of it.  Madison handled it with all the grace and poise of seasoned techie.  She is now an official tech journeywoman. 

But why, in these settings, do we (I) feel the need to push through and make the best of it.  What’s so wrong with stopping, laughing, and saying "ok folks, that’s the wrong song, it’s not that kind of evening" and wait for the right song to start and then proceed?

Honestly where does that "the show must go on" mentality come from?

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Even with the full time job thing and all the work going on at the new house we still have to take care of things around the old place -  mainly the yard.

When it comes to yard work I’ll tackle the task if said task requires gasoline powered equipment.  There’s nothing quite like flammable filled devices that hold the potential to maim or mutilate to keep you interested in a task.

A friend of mine from Virginia, in this century, uses a push mower (the one you actually have to push to make the blades spin) to mow his yard.  Ever the multi-tasker, mowing the lawn is also his exercise time.

I’m not all that interested in the raking, bagging, mulching, weeding portion of yard work.  Last night, however, I enjoyed a fruitful time of weeding.

Around 10PM, I was walking through the yard of the old house monitoring the progress of the automatic sprinkler system with a flash light and noticed a healthy crop of weeds.  I reached down and pulled one weed out and then another and another and still another.  There I was with flashlight in hand (for some strange reason I thought turning on the outside lights would bother the neighbors) pulling weeds like nobody’s business.  I blame it on the coffee!

It had to have been a strange sight, some guy prowling around in the flower bed with a flash light in the dead of night.   Can you hear the conversation of the neighbors?

Neighbor Wife - Who is that and what’s he doing?

Neighbor Husband - It looks like a prowler and he’s weeding our neighbor’s flower bed.

Neighbor Wife - Maybe he’ll break into our yard

Neighbor Husband - We can only hope.

Anyone else prone to such odd behavior at such an odd time?

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I’ve never been much of a coffee drinker.  In fact, as a young pup, I would often sing a little song that went something like . . .

C  - O - F - F - E - E

coffee is not for me

it’s the drink that people wake up with

and it makes them nervous is no myth

slaves to a coffee cup

they can’t give coffee up. 

Needless to say the marketing department at Starbucks has not made any offers for me to write jingles.

Between the age of 0 and 35 I probably had two sips of coffee.  I remember one time I had to sip the stuff because we were in one of those situations that manners and protocol dictated compliance.  They set a plate of cookies out with the coffee and I’m sure I ate every single one.

My first coffee drink from Starbucks had milk, whipped cream, raspberry syrup, chocolate chips and I think some coffee.  To show my macho side I had them serve it to me in a dirty glass!  For some reason Beth would always tease me about my drink choice, go figure.  Soon I discovered the Mocha, the Latte and the Frappuccino (caramel is my favorite).

This week I discovered the Iced Caramel Macchiato and wow!  After a 96 ounce cup of this nectar of the gods I’m typing 500 words a minute, reorganizing my entire library,  found a cure for baldness all at the same time while composing a Broadway musical.

Any Starbucks fans out there?  What’s the deal?  Is it the ease?  The convenience?  The feeling that I’m on vacation?  Is there some secret ingredient in the caramel that hooks you and keeps you coming back? 

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