Little paper cranes.

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I just got back from dinner with two of my friends at the writer’s conference. We had a great time with puns and discussing the triumphs and tragedies of the day.

And then it started: the really silly stuff. By the time we were done the other tables were looking over at the loons at table 27. It all started when one of our group mentioned that they’d missed out on an opportunity to “pitch” their book to an editor earlier in the day. Around here that’s known as an elevator pitch: you corner the poor victim in the bathroom or elevator and pitch your book or your great potential as a client to them as an agent. It is frowned upon.

We gently guided him from that path and then for some reason I said, “OOOh, look – I made you a really cool Oragami crane. It’s got a surprise in it when you unfold it.” Meaning that it was a sneaky way to slip a copy of your “One-sheet” into their hands. (that’s a copy of your book pitch with a mini-resume on “one sheet”)

Well… it went downhill from there, ending with ninja throwing stars that were made out of cd copies of the manuscript and thumb drives slipped into their hands.

Thankfully I didn’t have to resort to that today. My editor interviews went very well, pitch sent, over the mound and on target. Both asked for more. I feel blessed.

So, many thanks to all who prayed for me today. I love you, my readers, and appreciate the support.

There’s nothing certain in life but Christ.

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I’m at the ACFW(American Christian Fiction Writers) conference in Dallas this morning. In just a few hours I’ll be pitching my book to some publishers. Optimistic? Sure. It’s a good book, the publishers do books (so I hear) so it’s a natural match. But it’s not a “gimmee” in any way.

One thing is sure here, God is present. You can feel it in the halls and the meeting rooms. People devoted to Him. He promised that wherever two or more are gathered together He’d be there with them. He’s true to that word. To all His words.

I’ll be with him in that interview. It’s up to him, I’ll do my part, and i’ll be comforted with my back being covered. So, why’s it a gamble? Because He’s with that publisher as well and guarding their interests. Let’s all pray those interests are the same and we get this baby published.

American Chopper and the hope of forgiveness.

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I’ve been a fan of American Chopper for many years. There were times that it was painful to watch the show and witness the demise of the family. I have found myself down on my knees praying for the Tuettle family more than once.

Like many men I know, the relationship between the father and his sons was rocky. He had unrealisitically high expectations of their willingness to blindly obey, and they had skewed perceptions of his intentions. I am not here to judge these men, but I merely observe that they all thought they had it right and none of them did in the eyes of observers and each other.

As the seasons went by the fighting got more violent, the forgiveness less frequent, and the sadness became profound. They were hurting and it was clear that none of them really knew how to fix it.

And then they quit speaking to each other. And the ugly flashes of discontent and anger became the black cloak of hatred and duplicity. They wanted to hurt each other and they succeeded.

I had decided not to watch any longer as it was too upsetting to see these brilliant, funny, artistic, and interesting men bent on scorching the earth behind them. I watched just long enough to see an episode where there was a glimmer of hope, an iteration of optimism, a crack in the night’s gloom.

Was all of this scripted? Was it a master plan to lure us back to a show that some had fallen away from? How many custom choppers could you build and keep an audience? Was the fighting there just for us?

I don’t think it was fake. Overblown, tragic, out of control, emphasized for the cameras at first, but then they began to live the lie and destroy each other. My prayers intensified.

Yesterday I watched an episode on my DVR before going to bed. I sat and wept as Paul and Paulie were together in the same garage, building a bike together and working so hard to be civil and not ignite the other man with a malign comment, a cutting remark, or a dirty look. They were trying. And it’s working.

I might be a sucker but I have hope and joy for Mikey, Paul, and Paulie. I pray that they reconcile. And as Paulie wisely said, they never mix business with family again.

God is with us in so many ways. He even watches over a bunch of cable reality stars when we pray enough. I know I wasn’t alone in asking for healing for the men of American Chopper. I realize that Jesus does look after all of us. And if he can bring that healing to those men who drove me to weep in desparation and sadness over their ruined lives can you imagine what he can bring to you and your family if you ask for his love and help?

If your family is hurting, start the healing today. Forgive, pray, and love them like you’ve never done before. He’s waiting for your call.

Mike Rowe has it right.

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I’ve got a stake in this video… it describes me to some extent. I’ve washed dishes, dug graves by hand, plowed snow, mowed lawns, been a janitor in a warehouse, and more other dirty jobs than I care to remember. Hard work without a degree is undervalued in this country. Mike Rowe has a great perspective on this issue. I hope you take the twenty minutes to watch this video.

 

Four in the morning.

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It’s a little after four and I’ve managed to brush my teeth, change a laundry load, edit my book for a contest (not there yet) deadline today, sit on the steps with the dogs, and admire Neil Armstrong and the rest of the Apollo astronauts.

Mighty small fraternity there, ten men who walked on the moon. As I gazed up at that beautiful orb this morning I smiled and thought of Neil. I remember that day in 1969 so vividly that I can taste the onion rings at my uncle’s bar and the thrill of standing behind the couch (so that we didn’t block the adults) to see the first man walk on another planet.

He led a quiet life after his moon walk but his impact was thundering. I don’t think there was a little boy anywhere in the nation that didn’t admire him and want to be just like him. Handsome, smart, and as brave as any warrior ever was.

I hope that every time I look up into the night sky for the rest of my life I’ll think of Neil, Buzz, and Mike for just a moment or two.

Thank you, Mr. Armstrong, for lifting my dreams to the heavens.