A tribute to writers... and Buddy

I have moved my site... To read today's post, please follow this link... A tribute to writers... and Buddy

Your grandpa wanted you to know...

Sipping my coffee as I drove into work, I thought of the routine day ahead, and the many people I would encounter. This was the final week of interns for the profession I enjoyed pouring my entire heart and soul into. I didn’t know, however, what the final week would hold, and if I had known, I might have turned my car around. But I didn’t. I kept driving.

A few hours later, I knocked on the door of an old gentleman by the name of Larry Brosnan. He was a seasoned farmer, and his face told the stories of heartache, as if life had used this man, and then forgot he existed. His stature was small and withered, but the man in him was prominently displayed in his every action.

“Mr. Brosnan,” I said, “I’m here to take you to therapy.”

“Not going,” he replied, as though he had no patience for the kid standing next to his bed.

“Would you rather I come back in a few hours?”

“Nah... leave me here.”

“Mr. Brosnan, it is very crucial to your health to continue therapy.”

“Let me die.”

Taken aback, I didn’t know what to say.  I didn't understand proper protocol in these situations, and ended up finally leaving the room to find answers. Upon return, we continued our conversation.

"Larry, I can't force you to do therapy, but I strongly suggest you take a walk down the hall and back."

"That'd be okay," was all he said.

We walked in silence. Slowly we crept the length of the hall, and as we began to turn around at the end, I caught him glancing at a plaque on the wall. The edges were gold that had dulled with age, and seemed almost out of place in the well-lit, bustling hallway. It was a common picture of Jesus hanging on the cross, so I asked him, “Sir, may I pray for you?”

“You mean to God?”

“That’s who I prefer.”

“Nah...” his body tensed, “I don’t believe in God.”

By this time, we had reached his room, and slowly he eased himself back into bed. I could tell he was tired from our little jaunt, and knew he would soon be asleep.

Suddenly, the peaceful silence was shattered by Larry’s granddaughters as their cheerful chatter drifted down the hall. The girls bounded into the room, followed by a bedraggled mother,  and wrapped themselves tenderly around their grandpa before turning to me. Ever since introducing them to latex glove balloons, (a.k.a. “doctor balloons”) they had become my little friends. Before leaving, I knelt down and hugged the little girls, and I noticed Larry watching me intently.

In the next few days, Larry’s health had deteriorated so badly, that we no longer plead with him to do therapy, but instead tried in vain to stable his health. Often times, I would enter the room to catch him staring vacantly out the window. Turning quickly to greet me, his face hinted of lingering troubles on his mind. He never mentioned our previous conversation about God, and I thought he had forgotten.

On Friday that same week, as I drove into the last day of my clinicals, I dreaded saying goodbye to my patients. Mentally, I went through them one by one, familiarizing myself once again with their conditions and preparing for my last day. Thinking of Larry, I knew there was little hope of a recovery, and the doctors had already explained this to his family.

Larry’s granddaughters visited again, but instead of excited giggles, they stared solemnly, hugging grandpa without saying a word. After hugging the girls goodbye, I busied myself in Larry’s room with regular duties, the silence heavy, and I noticed Larry’s eyes were closed.

As I opened the door to leave, I heard Larry’s raspy voice...

“Marty...”

Turning towards him, it felt as though I saw Larry for the first time. The hardened man was gone, and in his place was a sick man, nearing death. His countenance had fallen, and his hands were shaking. Reaching out to steady his hands, I asked him, “What is it?”

“You believe in God, right?”

“I sure do.”

“Can you do me a favor? I’d like you to tell my granddaughters about Jesus.” As he said this, his eyes slowly closed, as if exhausted by the weight of the conversation.

“I will tell them. I promise. Would you like to know more about Jesus?”

“No... that’s okay. I don’t believe in God.”

Dismissing the moment, and giving Larry some time to sleep, I left the room. As I closed the door, I thought of something... He does believe! Why else would he ask me to tell his dear granddaughters, the ones he loves the most?

Throughout the day, I sighed many prayers that Larry would accept God into his life. I wanted to talk to him once more before my last day, but when I went back to his room, he was sleeping, so I drove home.

Two days later, I heard Larry had died. As I drove to meet the family and give my condolences, I thought about Larry’s granddaughters. And when I got to the house, I found those two little girls, knelt down and held them, and through watery eyes said, “Your grandpa wanted you to know about this really great Man... His name is Jesus...”

(This post is part of the Kindness blog carnival hosted by Bridget Chumbley. To read more posts, please visit her.)

I'm freaking out, man...

I have nothing to tell you today, except that I'm too busy to tell you something. I didn't find time to write over the weekend, and it appears like this week is going to be hectic. A few changes that are coming around here.

1. Due to your suggestions, in the near future I will be moving my website to a new domain. I apologize for the inconvenience this may cause, and I would appreciate your support in these difficult times. Here are a list of ways you can show support.

• I would appreciate suggestions, and links of websites you find very easy to navigate and also visually pleasant. Two of my personal favorites are these. (http://billycoffey.com/) and (http://briangardner.com/) 
• Bringing me coffee will win you nothing, except one of my tired, bedraggled smiles and a friend for a lifetime.
• I am moving away from the coffee theme. Before you throw yourself on the floor kicking and screaming, I will assure you that coffee will be a guest on my new blog often. Since coffee's my best friend and all.

Until next time,

Marty

Behind the facade of lies.

"There's Marty."

They begin to whisper.

I can feel them lingering in the shadows watching my life, hesitantly waiting for the moment to pounce. I feel nothing. I move onward, forcing myself to smile at every stranger. These very strangers turn to watch me go, as if puzzled by something.

More whispers.

Their insidious murmurings bother me, I cannot lie. I will never be like them, and that's alright. But I catch myself wondering... "What is it that they see?"

I am filled with worry, my soul bordering trepidation. I do not possess more, but they expect more from me. I should be better, less resistant to the negative forces around me. I force a smile, although I'm sad. And I pray for the day to be over.

I want to take off the mask, and let people see the furrowed brow... the troubled eyes. But I can't, not yet.

I feel so small. Although surrounded by people, I feel alone. They look so perfect on the outside, but I know their secrets. I see it in their eyes. They are just like me.

Cautiously, I reach for my mask. As I lower the facade of lies, I feel the sunshine on my face. I can feel a connection with God so powerful and unique, like it's the first time. I no longer see the people around me, but I can feel their eyes on me. I do not care. My eyes are no longer on them, wondering what they are thinking of me, but instead on God.

One by one, the masks are lowered. Truths are revealed, sins are forgiven, and amazing grace is received.

Sometimes, I tremble in awe of the power of the cross.

And that is right where I'm supposed to be.

-Just Me.

Flirting with Death

Yesterday, I briefly mentioned my trip to the Philippines, so today I thought I'd share an influential memory I have from the three weeks I was there. We were returning from dolphin watching, (a story all its own) and we saw this sign.

(Longest & Biggest Python in Captivity)

No kidding. 

I hate snakes. Really. I wasn't sure I wanted to get very close to the largest snake in the world, but I didn't fly half-way around the world to not experience these things. So, we turned down a dusty driveway. After paying our entrance fee, we skirmishly moved toward the large cage, watching our feet as if a 23 foot snake might be slithering nearby...

Prony is 23 feet long, weighs roughly 660 pounds, and has accomplished being the scariest Python on this planet. I asked them what Prony ate, and was mildly shocked when they said, "Stray dogs, but once in a while a pig."

"You kill them first, don't you?"

"Nah... Prony's pretty good at that."

"No kidding. How often do you feed him?" 

"Once a month," was their reply.

Keeping one eye on the short Philippine boy in front of me and another eye on Prony, I continued to pester the boy with a barrage of questions. Nearing the end of the conversation, I did the stupidest thing I could do, and I asked the stupidest question I could ask.

"How do you clean Prony's cage?"

"Go inside the cage. He's friendly. You want to pet him?" was his reply.

Once again, I felt trapped. A person does not fly half-way around the world, to NOT pet the largest Python. Weighing my options, I thought of asking "Why on earth would anyone in their right mind want to do that?"

"Don't ask why. Ask why not?"

Clearing my throat, I asked in a manly, gruff voice "Why not?" as if Prony and I met quite often over a cup of coffee or something.

Ducking my head, I cautiously followed the boy through the small metal door to the snake, and slowly bent over to touch Prony's midsection. Although dry and scaly, the skin was soft to the touch. When I pushed my hand firmly against the snake, Prony's body would move to either side of my hand, similar to playing with Jello. It was terrifying and excited at the same time. And of course, Prony was tired of laying in the sun, so he started to move.

My knees were shaky, and I wanted out. I wanted to run, but didn't for fear Prony would decide I looked like a stray dog waiting to be eaten. On marshmallow legs, I blundered my way to the open door.

After being outside for a few minutes, I overheard someone ask, "When is the next time you'll feed him?"

"In five more days."

I climbed into a cage with a Python that was 25 days hungry?

At that moment, I should've felt like a super man, all pumped up and beating my chest with my fist. I didn't try. I would have looked like an arthritic ape, the way my body was shaking.

Now, a few years later, I see the reason I did it.

How often do we flirt with spiritual death, climbing directly into the cage of sin? We think, "I only want to touch it." We allow offenses... pride... carnality... just a taste of the world...

I shudder to think of being caught in the cage on the final day, the thirtieth day, when the snake is hungry, and wants to play...

-Just Me.

Some Scars tell Stories...

Three years ago... 

As the plane tires kissed the runway of my home airport, I had no idea how drastically my life’s course would be altered. My recent trip to the Philippines was ending; I had spent three weeks visiting my sister who was teaching missionary children there. The time spent there had been filled with tourist moments, full of snorkeling, boat rides, and dolphin watching.

Lots of sunshine.

After surviving an 18 hour flight, I was exhausted and sluggishly gathered my luggage, cramming the many pieces into the waiting minivan. Driving to the motel, I contemplated how I was going to conquer the “after-trip doldrums”, especially since no more exciting ventures were planned.

To read the rest of the story, hop on over to katdish’s blog. And just so you know, this story is eventually about a scar... one that holds a story... well, you'll have to find out for yourself. 

Spaghetti and Laughter

Sitting around the table, the conversation had dulled as everyone took a moment to savor their food. I’ve heard it is normal to have an awkward bit of silence in most conversations every seven minutes.

Except with family, it’s not awkward... it just means the spaghetti won’t stay on the fork, no matter how many times we whirl it, twirl it, or swirl it. 

Suddenly the silence was shattered with a loud squall of childish laughter.

“I’m laughin’ wid him,” my nephew smirked as he jabbed his little finger across the table at my smart-alec brother, who’s spaghetti had flipped onto his arm.

My family comes from a lineage of notoriously messy eaters. We are that family which should be banned from any fancy, quiet restaurants or if chop-sticks are involved.

I’m not sure why I threw that bit of family information at you in the last paragraph. Now, back to my nephew, who is still giggling with my youngest brother.

As my mind so often does, I began to think about this concept. How much better would it be if the entire world would simply laugh WITH people instead of AT people?

You’re right. It’s not a new concept. But just allow yourself to think down this avenue for a bit. How many times do you find humor in your friends misfortunes? If they aren’t laughing, neither should you be.

The exceptions of course are there. Bicycles being driven into garage doors. Snowboarding mishaps. Stubbed toes. The list goes on....

Make people feel respected if you DO end up laughing at them. “It’s so funny because it looks like something I’d do,” can ease the hurt.

Just some food for thought. Hope it makes more sense than the “twirl your fork against your knife and the spaghetti wraps itself” concept I’m still trying to learn.

Confuzzled,

Just Me.

How to Take a Punch (by Billy Coffey)

Four years ago…

It started the way most good stories do, over lunch with a friend. This particular friend was named Charlie, an iron-fisted brawler disguised as a nerdy engineer who worked in the building next to mine.

“You should stop by tonight,” he said. “Great workout. It’ll make a man out of you.”

“I’m already a man,” I answered.

Charlie nodded and said, “Maybe. You ever been punched?”

“No.”

He put his fork down, looked me in the eye, and said, “A man never knows what he’s made of until he gets punched.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded philosophical enough to get my attention. “I’ll be there,” I told him.

All true boxing gyms are located in much the same place—the nearest poor neighborhood of the nearest city (you’ve seen Rocky III, right?). Which made getting there from the quiet confines of the country an adventure in itself. Charlie had warned me that the gym was much more old school than new, and he was right. There was no heat, no air, and no bathroom. There was merely a ring, several punching bags, dirty mirrors for shadowboxing, and a bucket to throw up in when the trainers pushed you that far. Written in bright red letters above the ring were the words JESUS SAVES.

It was, in a word, perfect.

I met with Charlie, the fighters who were warming up, and the trainers. “Gotta hand it to you,” the head trainer said. “Takes stones to show up the first time on sparring night.”

“Sparring night?” I asked. I looked at Charlie, who had looked away. I could see the smile on his face, though.

“You’re getting’ in the ring, right?” the trainer asked me.

Gettin’ in the ring? No, I was not gettin’ in the ring. I was not stupid.

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ in,” I said. Because macho manliness trumps stupidity every day of the week and twice on Thursday.

“Good,” the trainer said. “You can get in with me, then.”

Charlie looked at me with a look that was part humor and part Oh, boy.

“What?” I asked him.

“Nothing,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

I stared at him.

“He won Tough Man last year,” he confessed. “But don’t worry.”

Don’t worry. Famous last words of rednecks everywhere. On par with Hey ya’ll, watch this!

So. Into the ring.

Charlie adjusted my headgear and said, “Move. Don’t forget that.”

I nodded.

“And keep your hands up. Block and punch. Make your defense offense.”

I nodded again.

He checked my gloves and wiped them against his T shirt. “And for the love of God Almighty, keep your chin down. You expose that chin, and you’re a goner.”

“I ain’t goin’ down,” I said, and smiled to prove it. “So what is this, sparring or more?”

Charlie looked across the ring, paused, and said, “He’ll let you know. And wipe that smirk off your face. This will not be fun for you.”

“What makes you think—”

And that’s all I managed to say. I was silenced by Charlie shoving my mouthpiece in and yelling “Time!”

We met in the center of the ring (“Hands up,” Charlie shouted. “Move…move!”), touched gloves, and nodded to one another.

I’d taken plenty of martial arts, and sparring in a dojo was very controlled and normally done at half-speed. But this wasn’t a dojo, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do.

“So,” I said to the trainer, circling him, “what am I—”

SMACK!!
He threw a jab that managed to sneak between my headgear and connect with my nose. And it was not at half-speed. It was so fast I didn’t see his hand until he was pulling it away from my face.

“Move!” Charlie shouted.

SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!
Jab-jab-cross.

“Don’t stand there, do something!”

Boxing is controlled violence. It is technique. It is the mastery of punches and angles that are honed to precision by countless hours of training. Anger won’t get you through ten rounds in the ring.

It will, however, get you through one. Because when that right cross snuck through my headgear and cut my eye, I got mad. Very.

He threw another jab, but I slipped it to the left and threw a hook into his side and another to the side of his head. His eyes widened a bit, and Charlie yelled, “Yes! Stick and move! Thirty seconds!”

I learned that night that thirty seconds in a boxing ring is a lot longer than thirty seconds outside of one. Because it felt like we stood in the middle of that ring pounding on each other for an eternity.

“Time!” Charlie shouted. Finally.

We stood there in the middle of the ring, smiling. “Awesome,” the trainer said.

Awesome indeed.

That gym was my home away from home for a while, but in the end family and a lack of time forced me to quit. But there’s still a heavy bag in our exercise room, and I still go a few rounds on it every night.

Because Charlie was right. You don’t know what you’re made of until you get punched. And whether that punch comes by standing in the middle of a boxing ring or the middle of a life, you survive the same way. You keep your chin down, you keep moving, and you never stop swinging.

We’re all going to get hit sooner or later. It’s a given in this world. But I know this. I can take a punch. I’ve taken many. But I can give one, too.

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at What I Learned Today.

I'm missing a wall.

I'm very busy today, so I'm posting this from the road. My cell phone (and alarm) was plugged into the charger, but to my horror, I realized this morning about an hour late, that the charger wasn't plugged in to the outlet. Dead phone means no alarm. So I'm running behind. (I still had time for coffee)

Sometimes, being busy can be a good thing. Not only does it keep us out of trouble (sometimes), but it also gives us an incentive or goal.  New ventures are happening for me, and I'm very excited about all of them.

"God doesn't close a door, without opening a window."

Hurriedly getting ready this morning, trying to prepare myself for the crazy day ahead, I thought, "Isn't that just dandy. God didn't just open a window, he decided to build an addition to my life. I'm missing an entire back wall."

"God doesn't close a door, without knocking out the entire back wall."

Today is the day of possibilities.. I can feel it.

-Just Me.

P.S. Happy Valentines!

Meet my sister, Heidi.

There are very few things I don't share with you guys, so I thought I'd share my wonderful sister with you. She has always been a big part of my life, gives wonderful advice, and rarely is there a day that I don't talk to her on the phone. I'm not here to brag (although I could), I'm here to give something in return. Not only to her, but to you as well. Here's a note she wrote to you.

 Not to sound all infomercial like, I talked to Heidi and asked if I could give you guys some sort of Coffee With Marty special discount. You know, just for being cool like you are. :) Here's what she came up with.

1. Almost everything on the site is 10% off. (This Month Only)

2. Every purchase will receive a free hanging car freshener. (Sent Separately at no additional cost)

3. You will also receive a free Scentsy 2010 Catalog. (Sent separately at no additional cost)

To purchase click here.

Heidi will answer any questions you might have and is actually fun to talk to on the phone. I mean, I should know right? (580) 554-4506

 Not a phone person? That's alright. I'm not either. Her email is heidiboehs@yahoo.com. Or if you just want to leave a comment on this blog for Heidi, she'll be the one replying to all your comments.

One more thing. She wanted me to tell you if you were interested in hosting a basket party, (I'm not going to pretend I know the details) you can earn lots of free Scentsy products! No purchase necessary! Just send her an email at heidiboehs@yahoo.com for details.

Once again, to purchase click here.

Look into my eyes... they hold a story.

 

Yesterday, I was feeling the onset of cabin fever, so I decided to run some insignificant piece of mail to the post office. Climbing out of the car, the wind and snow whipped against my face, chilling me to the bone as I pulled my coat around me.

Forcing the door open on the post office, I stumbled in, bringing with me a fury of stinging snow. It wasn’t until I turned to leave that I noticed an elderly lady standing by the door, looking out, then back at me, as if mustering the courage to face the world outside.

I don’t know if it was the snow. Or how cold it was outside. Her eyes held a peaceful aura, but their was a sadness lurking behind the soft features of her face. You can tell a lot about a person if you take the time to look into their eyes.

She hinted a smile my direction, and I asked her what she was doing out on such a day. The sadness returned, her eyes shifted downward, as I stepped closer to her. “In a few days, my youngest son is turning 40, and I wanted to get his card in the mail.”

I told her what a dedicated mother she was to attempt this weather, and as we began talking, she pulled the card out of her purse. She asked me if I could put it in the drop box for her, and as I took the letter from her, I glanced at the address she had scrawled on the envelope.

Her son lived only thirty minutes away, in a nearby town.  As I turned back toward the lady, she forced the sadness to flee her face, as though she were embarrassed of its presence.

I wanted to ask her why her son wouldn’t visit if he lived nearby. I wanted to offer to drive her to his house. But I didn’t ask questions or offer assistance. I thought it was impolite, especially since I had glanced at the address on the envelope.

I held the door open for her, and grabbing her arm, I steadied her footsteps on the snowy sidewalk. Together we walked to her car, and after she had slid into the driver’s seat, I told her, “Drive safely.” Glancing at me, she smiled. A genuine smile, filled with happiness and not a hint of sadness. No words were necessary.

Makes me wonder how many similar opportunities I’ve missed by being too busy to smile or notice the people around me...

Yes, you can tell a lot about a person if you take the time to look into their eyes.

-Just Me. 

Relaxation Therapy

It is in the moments of precipitous laughter, that we find the carefree child in each of us... a free spirit that upon release, soars to heights unknown and dreams of tomorrow.

That’s my hallmark moment for the day. It’s just one hour short of midnight, and my family sits around the table, devouring the pizzas fresh from the oven.

As I glance around, it feels as though anything is possible. Happiness awaits in the next bite of ham and pineapple pizza. Contentment lies within the next sip of Pepsi. World peace is just a phone call away.

The troubles of yesterday subside into the recesses of our minds, the worries and fears roll off our shoulders. As though the laughter has inspired a youthfulness and zeal for life, we begin to hope for tomorrow.

This simple therapy liberates our souls... I’m not sure what to call it. Pizza Therapy? Pepsi Therapy? No, I’d call it Relaxation Therapy.

This coming week, remember to relax. Grab some friends and hit the local Pizza Hut. Go out and build a snowman. Take a walk. Ride a bike. I hear cookie sheets make excellent sleds.

Whatever you do, don’t forget to laugh.

-Just Me.

Watching paint dry is more beneficial than this post.

Just a quick update to my few readers.

I know... I know... Too many updates in one day! I feel bad. Honestly, I do. I'm starting to feel like one of those people that update their blog every two hours with the latest email they received, a picture of their cat, or just to tell us their toddler successfully said their first word. Just so you know, I'm not talking about any of my readers... You guys are great.

The reason for this post is.

1. I've been having some major technical issues with blogger, godaddy domain support, networked blogs etc... Upon noticing a non-functioning website this morning, I frantically called godaddy and a few hours later... poof! Back up! And now my web address is just www.coffeewithmarty.com. Yes, I know ".blogspot" is missing! Awesome, isn't it?

2.  This post is also functioning as a test post.

3. There are many cool updates and projects that will be coming to this site shortly.

4. You look really good today. You know that, right? Smile. It's Friday.

5. I'm playing volleyball tonight.

6. Since this is my second post in a day, I'm abusing all the issues I discussed in my first paragraph. I promise not to do this again.. ever!

7. And to live up to this irritation level you've come to expect from me, I'm going to tell you my dog is playing with my nephew, who just learned to say the word "bomboozled," and well... I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead.

It will be interesting how many of you show up on this site ever again. Good day!

-Marty Duane

P.S. Check out The Coffee Shop and leave this great person Paloma a comment or two. She mentions little me in this post called Coffee Friday. She's hopelessly addicted to the healing powers of coffee just like me.

Exhausted... but happy.

I’m so tired. Yesterday, my cell never quit ringing. At one point, when I could finally sit down long enough to listen to voicemails, I had ten new demands or questions. At midnight last night, I finally dragged myself away from my desk computer, where I was finishing up a few projects I didn’t find time for during the day.

As I brushed my teeth at this late hour, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Although tired, my eyes held a calmness... a contentment I hadn’t seen in a long while. For the first time in months, the person behind the tousled hair and wrinkled oversized t-shirt was actually there. Instead of merely existing, I was living.

Looking back, I can see where I was too driven by goals. I wanted more... always more. I was discontent with every aspect of my life, and pushed myself to complete exhaustion in order to obtain these aspirations and dreams.

I was exhausted then, and unhappy.

I am exhausted now, but happy.

What accounts for the difference? Recognizing that God has many surprises up His sleeve, many more promises to reveal in my life, and knowing that no matter what happens in life, He will be there guiding my footsteps.

Right now, I’m exhausted.

But happy.

-Just Me.

Climbing trees and hats.

 

And he sought to see Jesus who he was; and could not for the press, because he was little of stature. (Luke 19:3)

 I’m not exactly tall. I was humored as I read the story of Zacchaeus, because I know exactly how he must of felt. I imagined him bouncing up and down behind the crowd, desperately trying to see over the heads and catch just a glimpse of Jesus.

He knew he was a sinner, he knew he was unworthy, and yet... he wanted to see Jesus so badly that he swallowed his pride and attempted to climb that sycamore tree.  Zacchaeus probably heard the jeers and laughter as he launched his short body and grappled at the lowest limb. Humbly he climbed... until he could see.

What about me? Are the heads of the crowd getting in my way? Maybe they wore hats back in the Bible times, I don’t know. But I got this vision of the crowd wearing these hats that were always blocking my view of Jesus.

One hat had “Pride” written on the bill.

“Hatred” on another.

Worldly pleasures.

Depression.

Anger.

Fear.

Many different hats, all filled with selfish sins... and all blocking my view of Jesus. It is only through the humble act of climbing above these sins, that I can finally see. And in that... I am free.

-Just Me.

P.S. What hats are blocking your view of Jesus?

In the Dead of Night.

It’s dark. The night fills the room, accompanied by a feeling of apprehension. No, it isn’t fear, but one could easily confuse the two emotions. Restlessly, I toss about my bed, determined to close my brain to the thoughts... willing my eyes to close.

What is it about the night that makes us uneasy? Throughout the day, we avoid our problems and chase away their presence with the noise of life. But at night, somehow our thoughts are coaxed through the darkness and join our heads on the pillow.

Maybe it’s the loss of a loved one, and the memories of days gone fill the room. Maybe it’s a friendship beginning to turn cold, and we ponder which step to take. Or a deadline at work, and we wonder how we will get everything done. The list goes on and on...

For myself personally, thoughts of my day ahead plague my mind. I lie awake thinking, searching my past for latent memories... pleasant memories... anything actually, that takes my mind away from tomorrow.

You may say this sounds melodramatic. You may say this sounds depressing. It is simply who I am at night, somehow transformed to a different person. My night is filled with melancholy thoughts, and lingering questions.

I want to get up and run. I feel the need to exercise, burn off some steam, punch my boxing bag. Anything really, to relax my mind.

“Everything will be alright. Be not afraid. Allow your apprehension to reside. Let go.” A quiet voice fills the room, pushing back the darkness.

God does not rise with the sun, nor disappear at night... He’s right there. He’s there on my pillow, willing to help quiet those insidious little whispers of doubt and insecurities. Willing to take all my struggles... because...

“Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you.” 1 Peter 5:7

I’m so thankful. I really am.

-Just Me.

Bloggers & Friends

Recently, there seems to be a surplus of blog awards zipping around the blogosphere. I'm not saying I don't enjoy them, I really do! Every time I receive one, I'm flattered... I do the little nervous, bashful grin, sorta mumbling and tripping over the words "Someone likes me?"

So, a big thank you to each and everyone of you for making my day! I am going to list the blogs in order that I received the awards from. (If I can remember.)

1. Artisan of The Human Spirit - Tony Anders 
        Tony's a cool dad. He's got a great personality, and an even bigger heart. He puts thought behind each of his blog post, and they are definitely a joy to read!
2. Journey to Joy - Bill Bruner
        Why pay for all these self-help books if you can have a Bill Bruner for free? That's my opinion, and each of Bill's posts are packed with thought-provoking ideas on how to live a joy-filled life.
3. Healing Morning - Dawn Sievers
        There really are no words to describe Dawn. Somehow she is the queen of words, and magically brings her stories alive by using them! Very inspirational, and a lovely person! Seriously, check her blog out!
4. The (Not-Always) Happy Homemaker - Melissa Cowart
        Melissa has a passion for helping the world. She loves life and uses her upbeat attitude to inspire the people around her. Thanks for being you, Melissa.
5. Sally Lee... by the sea - Sally Lee
        Sally's comments on my blog are one of my greatest joys. She always takes the time to add a personal touch, and always leaves me smiling. And her blog does the same thing. You can't be sad with a Sally Lee around. I wonder if she's happier because she lives by the sea? Hmm. I need to test that theory.
6. Anthem of my Heart - Fran Babij 
         Ok. Gotta be honest. I don't know much about this blogger, but now my interest is piqued. Who is Fran Babij? Go to her site to check her out!
7. The Evolving Spirit - Aine Butler Smith
         Once again, this award came as a shock, and I don't know any cool details about Aine. Hmm... Click the link above to find out.

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Ok, I know I'm suppose to list ten things I like according to the rules of the award. That sounds boring to me right now, so I've decided to do 10 things I don't like! Hey, it wouldn't be me if I followed the rules... you know that!

1. The sound of my dog throwing up at 3 A.M.

2. Diets. My family is starting today, and I know I'll end up being hungry all the time.

3. Baths. Seriously, I think they are going to be warm and comfortable, but I end up suffocating and becoming dehydrated! 

4. Being sick. I know because I've had to lay on the couch the last 48 hours. Seriously tired of it.

5. Avocados. Woah. Have you SEEN the color of that stuff you're shoveling in your mouth?

6. Pessimist. (I'm not being one by doing 10 things I don't like, am I?)

7. People who aren't polite. Learn to shake someone's hand. Address them by Sir or Mam, unless you know them on a more personal basis. Oh, and make them feel comfortable by being friendly to them.

8. Telemarketers that don't know how to say my last name. But then again, none of you know how to say Unruh. (I still like you.)

9. When you order Pepsi, and they say, "Is Coke okay?" I want to tell them, "No, may I speak to your manager?" but I don't. Seriously. Coke is a far-cry from Pepsi!

10. Maxwell House Coffee. Oh. My. Word. I can't believe they are legally selling that poison. 

And that's it! Thanks to the 7 people to give me an award! I want you to know once again, I truly appreciated it!

-Marty

Today.

"Would you ever take a journey, if you knew ahead of time that you'd become hopelessly lost, have your heart broken into pieces, and sometimes wish you'd never been born?

Now, how about if you knew ahead of time that on that very same journey you'd also find yourself, fall in love, and live happily ever... hold on!"  -Tut Notes quote wrote by Steve Pohlit

I'm still on this journey, everyday is a new occasion for exciting promises, new adventures, and another day to serve God. I think that's all that matters.

I remember a pastor telling me, "Marty, you try too hard. It's very simple. You don't have to look at the long winding road ahead of you and worry about where you'll be five years from now. All you need to do is, every morning when you wake up, purpose in your heart that "Today, I'm going to live for the Lord."

Yes, sometimes I'm hopelessly lost, but God is there... Sometimes my heart is broken by circumstances life has given, but God offers new promises... Sometimes, I feel as though I should never have been born, but once again, He gives me new life...

On this same journey, however, there has been countless joys, moments of sheer happiness, and times when I marvel how truly lucky I am.

And God will take care of the rest. This morning, I'm telling myself,

"Today, I'm going to live for the Lord."

-Just Me.

Breathing isn't optional.

It's almost 10 o'clock in the morning, and I'm feeling a bit under the weather. I woke up this morning coughing and sneezing like there were no tomorrow.

My family tried to ignore the bellowing elephant walking around the house, but eventually I was being force fed different medications in desperate attempts to stop the noise. I wouldn't be surprised at all if one of them were an antidepressant, because somehow sneezing every few seconds doesn't fill a person with joy and love for the world around them.

And the worse part? I'm suppose to go on a road trip with two of my best buds. That's why I find myself at this odd hour in the day, taking a bubble bath.  Now, before my manly ego gets disfigured here, I must tell you all, I only take these steaming, life-suffocating baths filled with moments like, "Oh my, that water jet really did go there," just to get better.

Hey, whatever helps me continue with my weekend plans. I'll take one for the team, because my friends would not be happy if I weren't there. I just noticed the concoction I put in the water says, "Allergy & Cold ~~ 94.91% Naturally Deprived" * That's how I feel at this moment... 94.91% deprived.
Like, what did I do to deserve this cold / bronchitis / flu... and the list goes on... I'm a guy, when we get sick, we somehow obtain every ailment possible to the human race.

Maybe God thought to himself, "I've seriously got to slow that boy down, let's give him a little head cold." I guess the moral of my dilemma is...

Sometimes, what God sends our way isn't always pleasant, but always just what we need. Maybe it's time I sit back, and give myself a moment to breathe from my social / work schedule... I hear breathing is good for a person these days.

-Just Me.

*It was actually Natural Derived, once I cleaned the suds out of my eyes.

There's Always a Rainbow.

 

When God placed the rainbow up there, in the sky,

He promised to watch it with His loving Eye;

So when there's a rainbow that comes to our view,

It's precious to know He is watching it too.

There's always a rainbow somewhere in the sky;

It may be far off, or it may be close by,

It might not be here when you need it today;

But, keep looking up! One is coming your way!

When I heard the powerful message conveyed in this song, I was warmed by the promises of God. He will never forsake me... He will always love me...

Even though at times the clouds darken...
        and the thunder roars in the distance...
When doubts invade my happiness...
        and the very core of my faith is tested...
When fear causes me to tremble...
        and insecurities plague my thoughts...
Then I must remember...

"There's always a rainbow"

-Just Me.


P.S. I know it's winter, and the rainbows are very rare this time of year. OK, they're non-existent, but I think we all need a little summer sun, rain, and rainbows in our lives even if it's only on a blog, right?