I’m sitting in a coffee shop right now. There are four ladies at the next table (relax, they can’t see my screen). They’re getting together for coffee and danishes in celebration of the birthday of the blonde lady on the right.

Now to be honest, it’s just a tad frightening, as they’re all a little white-bread suburbia for my tastes (and coming from me, that’s saying a lot).

As the second, third, and fourth arrived, they were warmly and excitedly greeted by the one(s) already there — hugs all around. Had they been 13, they’d probably have let out glass-shattering squeals of delight.

It makes me stop and think (and blog). Sure, we’re not all “huggy” people, but are we that happy when we see our Christian brothers and sisters? Do we recognize that “brothers and sisters” is more than just a saying? It’s not just like Fred and Barney are brothers in the Water Buffalo Lodge. It’s an even tighter bond than a “band of brothers” who served together in a war.

My wife and I have some college friends who are now missionaries in Russia. The city that they minister in has an orphanage, and they weren’t there long before God impressed on their hearts to adopt. When they went to the orphanage, they could not decide between two infants who were only about 3 weeks apart in age. So they adopted both. John and Alice* are being raised as twins, but they are unrelated outside of their adoption.

If you are a Christian, I am no less your brother than John is Alice’s brother. “Christianese” has unfortunately diluted and polluted the sibling terms to the point where many cringe at the mention of the words. But just because man has messed up something that God instituted doesn’t make it any less real.

Remember this the next time you see a brother or sister in Christ. Maybe even let out a squeal of delight. That’d be especially cool if you’re a 350-lb offensive lineman.

* names changed to protect the impossibly cute

(or No duh, but here’s a specific instance)

As I noted about a week ago, it appeared that my grandfather was in his last days on this planet. Well, apparently like Mark Twain, the reports of his death were greatly exaggerated. This is not to say that God won’t necessarily be taking him home soon, anyway. But the prognosis that caused us to think that he was on death’s door was wrong.

Dad flew up to Philly on Tuesday and came back yesterday afternoon. His visit was very good. When he first got there, Poppy didn’t know who he was very briefly, and then mistook him for my uncle (Dad’s brother), but a bit later, he caught on. And the clarity just got better the rest of the week. With the exception of slow starts on a couple of mornings — and who doesn’t have those — Poppy was in very good health the whole time.

Anybody that knows me knows that “Waters male” and “goofball” are pretty much synonymous, and “a good time was had by all” as Poppy and his 4 boys horsed around (much to the amusement — or at least, eye-roll — of his lone daughter). While they weren’t all together the whole time, all of the kids were at Poppy’s house on Friday (as evidenced by the picture above — by the way, that’s my dad on the far right).

When Dad was leaving yesterday, Poppy said, “I’ll always remember all the laughing we did together this week.” That was probably also a message to Dad (and the other kids that were there at the time) that that is what they should remember, and that Poppy is at peace with the idea that he probably won’t see all his kids again this side of heaven. And Dad’s at peace with that, too, now.

As usual, God did “exceedingly abudantly above all we could ask or think”. Thank you, Abba.

Been thinking a bit about this blog, and I recognized that there’s been several things lately that I wanted to write about, but didn’t have the time when the issue was still fresh.  (And yes, I know that sometimes that hasn’t stopped me, anyway.   But of late, I’ve been letting it stop me more.)

On occasion, I have discussed — sometimes at length — an issue raised in someone else’s blog in their comments section.  And granted, I probably get more people reading it there than I would if I just wrote here.   And as the situation warrants, I will continue to do so.

But sometimes, there are issues being discussed on other blogs that need a bit more than a conversation in a meta.  Other times, it’s just that I have to ruminate on the whole topic before I weigh in.  Hopefully, by the time I do weigh in, I’m not beating a dead horse.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I’m going to embrace my slowness.  And as a way of warning you that you may already be familiar with some of this stuff (especially if you read the same blogs as I do), I’ll be classifying such posts with a new category:  late to the party.  (I thought about changing the name of the whole blog to that, but thought that was a bit too self-deprecating.)

Now does this mean I’m gonna comment on every topic that comes down the pipe, just a week or two late?  Hardly.  I hope that I am offering a new angle on something, not just parroting what everyone else has already said.

But, nonetheless, you have been warned.

There’s a parking deck on the Georgia Tech campus near the football stadium named after some guy named Peters. (Of course, everything on a college campus has some donor’s name on it, as long as it holds still long enough to have a plaque slapped on it.) Though I don’t think it was its official name, the students referred to it — logically enough — as Peters Parking Deck. It consists of two levels of parking — the lower of which is below street level — and the top (third level) has basketball and tennis courts on it.

A couple years after it was built, we had a torrential rain that started in the afternoon and only got stronger overnight. The next morning it was discovered that the drainage in that area had been designed by a complete idiot — the streets drained into the parking deck’s bottom level. The cars parked on that level were under 4 feet of water. The school had to re-imburse the students for the car repairs to the tune of 6 figures.

Shortly thereafter, two things occurred. Every support pole on that level had painted on it: “CAUTION: Area subject to flooding“. And the students started referring to it as Peters Car Pool.

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As with many college campuses, there are lots of people that work at Georgia Tech that have nothing to do with the education of the students. Tech has a whole separate research company on its campus, GTRI, so it has even more than usual. I co-oped there in the late 80s while attending the school. I wasn’t there during the 1996 Summer Olympics — when the campus was used as the Olympic Village — but I knew several people that were, and was interested in what was going down over there.

Apparently, the majority of the Olympic folks treated the Tech employees like possum feces and were dumber than the proverbial bag of hammers. But Bill Campbell had given them all the power, so the Tech employees had to just deal with it. Their only revenge lay in dispatches to the “outside world”, detailing their bad treatment and the stupidity of the Olympic officials.

My favorite story deals with Peters. It was used for storage during the Olympics. The upper parking level was used to store large water jugs — like the ones you see on a water cooler. The “correspondent” noted that he’d never seen that much water on the upper level of Peters. The lower-level (you know, the one subject to flooding) was used to store electrically-fueled golf-cart-like vehicles used around the Village.

Michael “iMonk” Spencer knocks one out of the park when he asks “What Do You Do When God Answers Your Prayer?” and examines some of the things that we should do.

This post is soooooooo “truth in love”. It simultaneously convicts me of my failings and encourages me to grow.

Or to put it more bluntly: this post makes me feel like crap — but crap that God loves.

Two blind pilots were both wearing dark glasses. One is using a guide dog and the other is tapping his way along the aisle with a cane.

Nervous laughter spreads through the cabin, but the men enter the cockpit, the door closes and the engines start up. The passengers begin glancing nervously around, searching for some sign that this is just a little practical joke. None is forthcoming.

The plane moves faster and faster down the runway and the people sitting in the window seats realize they’re headed straight for the water at the edge of the airport. As it begins to look as though the plane will plough into the water, panicked screams fill the cabin.

At that moment, the plane lifts smoothly into the air. The passengers relax and laugh a little sheepishly and soon all retreat into their magazines, secure in the knowledge that the plane is in good hands.

In the cockpit, one of the blind pilots turns to the other and says, “Ya know, Bob, one of these days, they’re gonna scream too late and we’re all gonna die.”

I (and my family) would greatly appreciate your prayers. My grandfather, Irv (but you can call him Poppy like I do — God will know who you mean) is most likely close to death.

His health has been up and down for the past couple years. Frankly, I didn’t really expect him to make it this long. He’s already 96 and my grandmother (his wife of 71 years) died a little over two years ago. There was so much that he did in taking care of her, that I wondered if he’d just shut down when she died, figuring his work was done.

My dad will be heading up to NJ later this week to see Poppy, probably for the last time on this earth. To be honest, he and I are kinda praying at cross-purposes. As would be expected, Dad doesn’t want to lose his father, but I’m more at peace with it and would rather see him go home to be with Jesus and Nana. In addition to the fact that I’m sure that he’s just tired, taking care of him over the last year has been very hard on my aunt and uncles, and they really need a rest. Obviously, this is a case of praying for God’s will to be done.

On the more united front, please pray for Dad’s travels and his time up there. Poppy’s had some good days and some bad days this month, the latter including one where he didn’t even know his own son (my uncle). Granted, he doesn’t see that son much, as he lives about 10 hours away, but he sees Dad even less, and I think an incident like that would be absolutely devastating to Dad.

We are certain (as any one person can be of another) of the salvation of most of my family, whereas some cousins and spouses, not so much. And (as would be expected) there’s a variance of closeness to the Lord among the Christian members of my extended family. So, in whatever way God wants to use each person, please pray that He’ll be seen clearly and glorified in (what are probably) Poppy’s final days.

As the husband of a teacher, I have to give a standing ovation to this Taylor Mali video. (rated PG for language and a hand gesture)

Dear Customer:

Yes, you’re right. I wasn’t available to you on IM this morning. Since you did not email, call, or page me (but rather, bugged my co-workers to contact me), I can only assume that both your email and every phone within a 50-mile radius is broken. I join you in hoping that these tools are working for you again very soon.

Love and kisses,
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