Blog About Blogging

OK

I am just going to vent and repent (just made to up).

I am a very scattered individual. I am simple. I am easily distracted. Blame it on my learning disabilities during my school days. Blame it on the fact I am an artist/musician type. Perhaps it is because I am wired this way. Or maybe I am just plain lazy.

I blog when the muse is upon me . . . and I am in front of the computer . . . with nothing else pressing needing to get done . . . and . . . well, the excuses do mount up. I do intent to write more and have best intentions. We will see.

Then, inevitably, I get asked if I have read other's blogs. I feel like a total heal because all of the above has to be true in order for me to get around to it.

I am not a reader. Amazing isn't it. I am a skimmer. I get the gist . . . and move on. I type like there is no tomorrow but I would hate to read all those words. You would think that I wouldn't write as much. I am a bit of an enigma that way.

Let me make something very, very clear. To all those who read this blog and write your own . . . my lack of keeping up to date isn't that I care/love you any less. I would rather spend the afternoon chatting over coffee or some other equally enjoyed hot or cold beverage. To have time to discuss views on life, stories of the past, hopes for the future and events in the present. That is what I would rather. Face to face communication.

I know that can't always happen . . . or in some case it can never happen. But that is what I would rather. Time, life, location, and other factors hinder that type of interaction. It is what it is. My hope is that heaven will be one big chat session. Fire place, beverage, all the time in the world . . . well sort of . . . all the time out of this world.

Failing that I will do my best to keep up. I have no course of action. I am secretly hoping that intention counts for something. You are all important to me . . . enough to read . . . enough to write. But realities keep that from happening.

Hear my heart and thanks for understanding.

FWIW

Take it . . .

Rehabilitating Friends

Yesterday I had the opportunity to play piano for a friend's wedding. I haven't played a wedding in a while. Needless to say, I was a little nervous. In my current position, no one has thought of me as a possibility to play. And, frankly, I am fine with that. Weddings usually turn out to be those bitter sweet gigs. You are glad you had a part (if people getting married are friends) but a lot of times they can be a hassle.

A few weeks ago I got a call from my long-time friend, Kyle. They, he and his new bride, Jenny, had all the details nailed for the wedding but something fell through with the ceremony music. He asked if there was any possibility that I was going to attend and if I could play. I was able to switch some work stuff around and I made it happen. The ceremony was elegant yet simple. It was a great wedding (and I didn't play half bad either . . . if I say so myself. But that isn't the reason for this blog.)

Let me back up a bit. Kyle is a long time friend. He was, back in the good old days, a teenager in the youth group I was in charge of so many moons ago. (Boy, was I feeling old yesterday.) For some reason, Kyle and I connected and our friendship continued beyond those youth group years. In fact, it seems I have a connection with his whole family. Which brings me to my point of this blog.

The wedding was at my former place of employment/church. I worked there for about 11 years not counting an 18 month stint in Queensland, Australia. So going to this wedding was almost like going to a family reunion. Many of the guests and those in the wedding are my very good friends. We had a very long history together.

Many moments of laughter as well as tears.

Happy times.

Angry times.

Indifferent times.

Time taken for granted.

That is until a time like this. It was uncanny how we all wanted to make sure we were all going to the reception to hang out together. None of us wanted to lose that moment. And when I decided it was time for me to take the 3 hour drive back home it took me another hour to say good-bye.

Hugs.

Tears.

Laughter.

More hugs.

"Hopefully we will see you soon."

I drove into the night with a strange warm feeling in my heart. It wasn't strange to have the feeling . . . it was one I had before. It was just strange to feel it right then. I kept thinking to myself . . . I had a great time.

I was at peace.

It is like seeing a good movie.

An unexpected day off.

An email from a long lost friend.

It is a time like that you remember all the things you forgot that you . . . well forgot. You remember the treasure of a friend (or many of them). Your self-worth gets refocused. But most importantly, you realize a little more how fast time flies and how precious a life is.

Why does absence make the heart grow fonder. Why can't we learn to love people when we are with them. Or, to be more accurate, why can't we remember how much we love people when we are with them.

As I read over this entry I keep thinking of a computer. Well, more accurately, a Windows PC. Sometimes my computer starts acting really strangely, doing things it never has done before. Those of us with any experience with PCs know that the first rule of thumb . . . the first step to any tech support call . . . reboot the machine. When you do that it clears out all the "junk". All the pieces of program code that are floating around in there that are messing with normal operations.

I see absence as a way of rebooting the friendship processors. You forget the bad, angry, not happy times that muck up the proper operations of how we relate to our friends. It gives us a fresh start. And it is a good thing.

A very good thing.

I am sure there is more I could dissect out of this. No sense in over analyzing.

To all my friends at Crosswinds . . . I love you dearly . . . I miss you immensely. Thank you for such a refreshing time! Until we meet again. (Hopefully soon.)

And congratz to Kyle and Jenny. Have fun in Disney World!

God Bless

Anything too stupid . . .

. . . to be said is sung.

- Voltaire

F.W.I.W.

Take it . . .