I confess that a lot of pastors I know take Mondays off, but I have never been able to do this. Monday feels like the main day for me to try and make some headway on my constantly over-long to-do list. I confess that today’s list seems daunting and demoralizing, so I may not get that much done today.
I confess that I’m trying to grow new grass in the bare patches of my yard. I confess that I’m not sure I’m up to the task.
I confess that my cousin Becca taught me a workaround on my formatting issues for blog posts I build in Word… it works perfectly. (Just paste the post into notepad, then re-copy and past it into the blog). I confess that Becca is officially a nerd, and much smarter than I am. Plus she saved me lots of time and frustration.
I confess that my friend Randy who is homeless and addicted to alcohol and meth checked himself into treatment 12 days ago and is going on 2 weeks sober. He’s waiting on a bed to open up at a long term treatment facility so this is a really precarious time for him. I confess that I hope mentioning Randy will entice anyone who reads this to pray for him. He needs the support. I confess that I’m grateful that Randy’s a part of our church.
I confess that I’m feeling very grateful to Jim and Jennifer Schmidt who introduced me to a bunch of crazy friends who live on the streets of Kansas City. I confess that when I’m trying to figure out if I’m really living like a Christian should live, I think of Jim & Jennifer and then get back to work seeking the kingdom of God. My life is so much richer for the relationships these two disciples have brought to me and to Redemption Church.
I confess that I’m an assistant coach for my oldest son’s flag football team. I confess that we got smoked in our first game on Saturday – it was ugly. I confess that the bright spot was my son streaking down the field for a 50 yard touchdown run. I confess that the opposing defensive coach’s ensuing gripes to the ref about “flag guarding” made me struggle with my commitment to being a nonviolent person. It’s. a. game.
I confess that I’m sitting on my back porch and from here I can hear the sounds of the marching band practicing at the school about a mile away. I’m having the strongest memories of this phenomenon happening to me when I was a little kid. We lived near the high school and could hear their rehearsals during the fall.
I confess that I was in marching band for one year – drums – and I was terrible at it. I confess that in that snare drum line there were only 4 of us, and every single one of them became a professional musician in some capacity. Freaky. I confess that I’m still the least talented of the 4 by far.