Full Service Gas Pump

When I was just starting to drive in the 70's, the following wasn't unusual. You'd pull up to a gas station, the attendant would rush out, begin filling up your tank, clean all the windows, top off all the fluids, check your oil, etc. It was full service. But you paid only for the gas. The extra service was no charge. Gratis. A benefit of your stopping in to THAT specific gas station. Going the extra mile so you would keep coming back to them.

Fast forward to 2010. Full service pumps are a thing of the past, UNLESS you're driving in Oregon (that's another story....it's illegal to pump your own gas in Oregon....I found out the hard way on an artist promo trip). Self service pumps are the thing now. You might be able to find a full service pump somewhere, but they are not the norm.

This past Friday I was running on empty, so I stopped at a gas station in an unfamiliar part of town. Getting out of the car, I hadn't even gotten my credit card out of my pocket before I noticed a lady walking towards me. I use the term lady loosely....this sentence in itself should explain a lot. She apparently had left the majority of her clothing at home, and even though it was 95 degrees outside, the thought crossed my mind that she might be cold. Anyway...she walked up to me, got within that uncomfortably close proximity usually reserved for a good friend or family member, and said...

"My car broke down over there (pointing to her right) and I need to get to work over there (pointing to her left) at Kroger. Can you take me to Kroger in your car?"

Well, the little voice inside my head screamed NO for several different reasons. I had been expecting her to ask for money. I had already prepared myself to try to figure out how to get her a hamburger somewhere, or something. But I wasn't prepared for this request. So I told her that I was traveling in the opposite direction, which was true, and that I was in a big hurry, which was true, and that I wouldn't be able to offer her a ride.

She then leaned in a little closer, lowered her voice, gave me THE LOOK, and said, "I promise to make it WELL worth your while".

What??? Oh no she didn't! Yes, I believe she just did! I got embarrassed, mad and hilariously tickled at the same time. I took a quick glance around and inventoried that no one else was paying attention to this little conversation that was happening at pump # 7. I considered her questionable promise, and my reply. And then I reverted back to high school....back when my smart butt comments would often get me in trouble. All this took just a couple of seconds, of course. Looking at her with feigned seriousness, I said, "mam, you do realize this is a self service pump, don't you?".

Well, apparently she wasn't used to getting THAT kind of answer to her invitations. She took about two steps back, put her hands on her hips, and screamed a declaration at me (something calling into question the character and PEDIGREE of my mother) and stormed off, leaving heel prints in the concrete. She was torqued at me, for sure. And I was still fighting back the giggles.

Since I was STILL on empty (hadn't had the chance yet to begin filling my gas tank) I proceeded to finish as fast as possible and vacate this full service establishment. She continued on her quest to find a ride to "work", approaching no less than 3 other men in the short time it took me to fill my tank. Suitors #1 and #2 were not interested. Contestant #3 however was apparently either a friend or needed his windows cleaned, because she got in the car with him and they drove off....in a 3rd direction that was not headed to either her car or her job. Hmmmm....maybe she was just making up the entire story???

I shook my head, said a prayer for her and her family, and then laughed as I called my wife to replay the events. Thankful, thoughtful, and with bugs still on my windshield.

"Millionaire's Envy", by Chad Giles

If you're reading this, it's because you've come to enjoy my father's style of writing. You clicked on that familiar link with confidence that you would read some recent experience of his that would, at the very least, give an amusing boost to your day. You know what's coming, as soon as the page loads up. An experience that most of us would either never take note of, or one that would be frustrating beyond the bounds of humor, or perhaps, if we admit it, something that stands outside the edges of our maps. The kind of something that we have not the wisdom to apprehend without the sagacious insights of another to render it down to our level of comprehension. And somehow, he takes any one of those kinds of experiences and lets the rest of us in on the joke in a way that makes it anecdotal yet profound.

So, if you're reading this...because you've come to enjoy my father's style of writing...and clicked on that familiar link with confidence that you would get something like what I described above, then you should stop reading. This won't be anything like that. In fact, I'm not sure what it will be. Consider this your disclaimer, your warning label, your “get out of jail free” card, your tax/tag&title statement, and your all-purpose “you can't sue me” notice. If you're just painfully bored, then this may be for you.

Let me help you get to know me better by introducing you to the two men who are the very banes of my existence. These are not figurative men. They are not allegorical. They are flesh and bone, with distinctive personalities and very real capacities for vexation.

The first man is an arrogant idiot. Now, we all suffer people who are one or the other, which is to say, either an arrogant person or an idiotic one. But how the deuce does somebody carry on in life as both? All the time? For over thirty years? I could go on, but this isn't the man I'm dwelling on today.

Today my bitterness broods on the other man. The one who is arrogant, rightfully so, and not an idiot. His name is Bootsy, and he is a multi-millionaire.

Please hear me on this point. I am not bitter about the fact that he is filthy-stinking rich. I think that wealth can be a tremendous blessing or a terrible curse, depending on the owner. I also believe that part of kingdom expansion for the Christian is becoming the kind of person who is capable of governing the world's resources. Oftentimes, that means becoming rich in the process.

No, I'm bitter about the lucrative, luxurious, lackadaisical ease with which the man makes money. In fact, he doesn't even have to make money anymore. It just finds him. When Bootsy walks down the street he makes a point not to walk with his hands in his pockets, so that money can just jump right into them as he passes by. His money-achieving feats have become the stuff of mythologies. He has it coming out the wazoo. He also has a magnetized horseshoe up the wazoo that is attracting money even in his sleep. You think I'm kidding.

Here's a summary of his most recent trip to Vegas, representing one of many throughout the year. Flash forward to the end of the story: Bootsy returns to little ol' Lynchburg, VA with a brick of $100 bills, stacking up to $47,000 – glad to show it off. Back to the beginning: Bootsy is playing slots. Slots! There is no skill set involved in slots like there might be in any variation of cards, roulette, or dice. With slots, monkey feeds coin, monkey pulls lever, monkey waits for pictures. Over and over again. Well, Bootsy is a winning monkey, and he doesn't have to pull the lever much.

Legend has it that he plays one machine for about an hour, spending roughly a hundred bucks. Bootsy can smell it coming. The wazoo horseshoe is pinging. The machine hits. Four thousand dollars! When the machine lands that kind of money, an attendant comes by to verify everything and then give the man his money. While Bootsy is waiting for the vested man to do his work, he reaches over and plays the machine next to him, just to pass the time. One pull. Another four thousand bucks!

Not a bad take, but he is nowhere near done. This is Bootsy we're talking about. That night, asleep in a swanky room at the Vegas casino hotel, Bootsy wakes up from a dream about a particular slot machine. He rushes to get himself just-barely-decent-enough, which amounts to his robe and slippers, dashes down to the game floor, feeds the machine he just dreamed about, pulls the lever and makes another whopping sixteen thousand dollars. I'm sorry. I ran out of exclamation marks on the last slot machine.

So far we've only accounted for roughly half his winnings that week. I have at least a hundred other such stories, in enterprises and gambles far away from Vegas. You may have heard the saying “money finds money.” Well, that adage is incorrect. Money finds Bootsy. He is the possessor of the wazoo horseshoe. And he has my envy.

However, I wonder a lot about Bootsy's motivations in life and living, and whether he is truly happy. On better days, I take stock of the blessings in my own life that are difficult to estimate monetarily. Here's a few.

My greatest blessing has to be my wife. A man never makes a greater decision than who he marries, in so doing, deciding a lot of who he will become through and with that person. In her, I have a person who is strangely capable of suffering all of my freakishness, and somehow wandering through the whole complex labyrinth that makes up who I am. Adena and I have managed to create four miniatures in five years. Obviously, the bedroom is in good order.

And the miniatures are glad to see me when I come home at the end of a long day roofing. The boys like to wrestle. The girls like to hug. They all love to laugh. They also forgive, as I'm still learning how to be a parent, continuing to make mistakes or just plain sinning against them as they suffer the consequences of my fallen-ness.

Their grandparents and great-grandparents love them greatly, and do a lot of our job for us, providing for them all they could want or need. They do it for us, too, still refusing to let us completely “grow up,” out of reach of their loving provision.

All in all, I'd say life is pretty good. We may struggle some months to pay for the groceries, a pain Bootsy forgot about a long time ago. Even so, aside from the money problems, or the frustration with the incompetence of my superiors, or the philosophical angst that drives a lot of my life, I think that I have recently discovered a little wazoo horseshoe of my own. Because there is no good explanation for how I have been so richly and undeservedly loved.

And that is what makes me the millionaire's envy.

Customer Service

As Mothers Day is this weekend, I wanted to do something special for the ladies in my life. So I ordered flowers, and scheduled them to be delivered on specific dates. These ladies are important to me, and since I was going to be on the road the week before Mom's day, I wanted to be sure it didn't sneak up on me. So I took care of it beforehand. Or so I thought.

Here's the email that I received this morning...."Dear customer, we received your order for mothers day bouquet, scheduled to be delivered on Tuesday May 11. Since Mothers Day is May 9, we feel you would want them to be there in time for the holiday, so we have changed your order and are shipping them today, May 5. We apologize for any inconvenience, sincerely..."

Seriously. No kidding. They changed the delivery date on my order without checking with me. Really??? What if I had sent flowers to my girlfriend, and they decided that I really meant for them to go to my wife instead? And what if I had never referred to my wife as "Pookie" as it said on the card, nor had I ever taken her to the Romantic Hearts Hunting Lodge and Possum Exporium, as referenced. (lucky for me, my girlfriend and wife are one in the same). But the florist doesn't know that! I was agitated!

Why was it such a big deal to me that the delivery date was changed? Well, cuz my mom-in-law (who really is more like a mom to me) was going to be traveling over the holiday...and would not be home until May 11. The flowers would be dead when she got back! Isn't that supposed to be the ultimate insult, to send someone dead flowers, to show them how much you really care? Thanks a LOT, son.

Well, I replied to the email that was sent, kindly explained the error, and respectfully asked that it be corrected. About 3 minutes later, I get a reply from Jerome, in customer service (apparently he uses that term loosely). Here's what Jerome had to say...."I'm sorry, your order has already been shipped, and there is no way that we can make any changes. Very sorry for the inconvenience. Sincerely, Jerome". Really, Jerome? Sorry for the inconvenience??? Inconvenience is when you purchase something, get it home, take it out of the box, realize it doesn't work, and have to take it back to the store for an exchange. THAT's an inconvenience. Inconvenience is when you visit the drive thru, order a cheeseburger with no mustard, receive EXTRA mustard, and have to drive back around to the window again to get your order right. THAT's an inconvenience. Inconvenience is...well, you get the picture. THIS is not inconvenience. THIS is an error in customer service. THIS has me completely unsatisfied. And now, you've just made error number two :-)

So, I dialed the 800 number that was NOT included in Jerome's reply, took a deep breath, and determined I was going to be polite to whomever answered the phone...unless his name was Jerome. Apparently Jerome was busy crafting another email customer care masterpiece, or he had just left to teach his class on how to win friends and influence people. Either way, Janet answered. And she sounded like she meant it when she said, "how can I help you?".

Well, I explained the situation to her, in detail, carefully retracing all the steps. She was completely silent when I told her of Jerome's thoughtful email reply. I suspected she might be getting ready to give me the same answer as the King of Courtesy & Common Sense, but I later realized she must have put me on mute so she could scream to whomever was listening in the call center, "JEROME HAS DONE IT AGAIN!!!" The reason I know this is because the next words out of her mouth were, "you are kidding me, right?" To which I replied, "no mam". And she promptly began to assure me that there most definitely would be another shipment going out to my mom-in-law, at no cost to me, whenever I wanted it to get there. And that she was so sorry for their error that never should have happened. And that she was making a note of the episode so that all the supervisors would see it, and work to see that it didn't happen again.

Problem solved. Graciously and expeditiously. Just as you would expect from someone with "customer service" in their title. I thanked Janet for her kindness, asked her to wish Jerome good luck in his career as a Disney Entertainment Host (not really!) and hung up, satisfied.

Thanks, ProFlowers. You got it right. Janet is a champ! You're not paying her enough. And I will be back. But I won't be writing to Jerome anytime soon :-)

What Do You Do All Day?

(with thanks to Norman Csarni, this is perfect, from a wife & mother to her husband)

A man came home from work and found his three children outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front yard.

The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house and there was no sign of the dog. Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall.

In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a Cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing.

In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.

He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes,looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened.

He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door.

As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls.

As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife still curled up in the bed in her pajamas, reading a novel. She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went.

He looked at her bewildered and asked, "What happened here today?"

She again smiled and answered, "You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world I do all day?"

"Yes," was his incredulous reply.

She answered, "Well, today I didn't do it."

Fathers, Sons, Friends

We had a father-son getaway this weekend. Chad, Devon and I met in Gatlinburg, and just chilled for a few days. Nothing spectacular, no mountain climbing, no white water canoeing, no zip lining (except for the raincoats). Nope...it was just three men with a deep love and respect for each other, hanging out, sharing stories, and resting.

It was a time of reflection on all of our years together....from sons, to young men, to friends. I learned a little more of their perception of me as a dad. And found a little more grace in their forgetfulness of my many faults.

The first time I laid eyes on Chad, our oldest, I instantly loved him more than any other boy in the whole wide world. And began to understand what it meant to be a dad. When I found out we were going to have a second son, I wondered how in that wide world I could love him as much as the first. One look at that 2nd precious little boy, Devon, and I knew the answer. Yes, I could. And yes, I did.

I had heard parents say how the love is different for each child, but I didn't understand it until I was able to experience it firsthand. The love is no less special, but it is different. The relationships are equally as deep, but they each cover their own native turf.

It's also interesting to note how those relationships change over time, and yet stay the same. A son is always a son, but he can also become a best bud. I'm blessed to have both, and I treasure them dearly.

Once serving as warden to adolescence, I now am a confidant of adulthood. They were once my children, growing before my eyes. Now they are peers, nurturing families of their own.

Nance and I never had a daughter. Now we have two. Adena. Hollie. Both loved as if they were our own, both unique in their relationships and friendships. And then there are the grandkids. :-) Oh my goodness, all that joy rolled up into such a small package? My cup absolutely is filled to the brim, and spilling over.

Thank God for sons & daughters who love Him, and who are doing their best to raise their children in His light. And thank God for sons who love their mom & dad, and want to be around them....and call them friends. That is a joy that I cannot explain.

The 23rd Psalm, as I read it in The Message, says it best; "The Lord is my Shepherd, I have everything I need". Married to my best friend in the world, I'm a 50 yr old dad able to share a weekend with his sons, age 26 & 29. What a priceless gift. And to be treated like a trusted friend by them both? I don't have the words.

I am blessed. Filled. Overflowing. Undeserving. Grateful. Dad.

Mouse Droppings

So, I'm sitting in a mid-class restaurant with a good friend a few days ago, enjoying some chicken wings and conversation. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy something moving under the leg of a couch in the center of the room. My attention is drawn, and I see what looks to be a mouse. But I'm sure I'm imagining things. Nope...said mouse leaves the security of the couch-fort, and does the combat crawl between the wall and the booth right in front of us. I saw it...no doubt about it...there was an unwanted foreigner in our midst. And I immediately realized that I could quite possibly be enjoying the privilege of chowing down on mouse droppings, no extra charge, at that very moment.

Now, I must admit, I wasn't really thinking mouse droppings at that point. The word that was running through my mind and forming on my lips actually rhymes with curds...I think that's a word far more descriptive and fitting. But I'm not going to use that here...so get curds out of your mind....I'll stick with droppings.

I told my buddy what I had just seen (it happened behind him) and then promptly got the attention of our waitress. I discreetly told her about the mouse, and where she could find it (I had it under constant surveillance by this point). Her reply? "oh, I'm glad I didn't see that". And then she just walked away. No, "I'll get someone right on that....sorry you had to see that sir....we'll be sure to get that little critter caught right away...can I get you some extra celery?". (Don't mice really like celery?? Don't they pretty much like ANYTHING edible?) Nope...she didn't make any other comment or effort to allay my concerns...she just walked away.

I watched with interest as she began talking to another server. She was obviously recounting my tale of the mouse intruder. I could tell by the multiple SHIVERS and the look of relief on her face. Server #2 took a few glances in the general direction of the rodent's lair, and then they BOTH walked away. Apparently they either both didn't care, or figured it was somebody else's problem....which at this point, I considered MY problem. They didn't do anything. We stayed there for a couple more minutes, watching to see if anyone would come over to check it out more conscientiously. Nope. No one seemed interested. (I did notice during this time, during a close inspection of a few of my remaining wings, that they closely resemble the size and shape of the rodent in question...but I'm sure this is just a coincidence).

We had lost interest in our food by this time. The thought of Curds and whey was hard enough for me to stomach when I was a kid. Anything rhyming with curds is far beyond my realm of graciousness as an adult. So we left, leaving some uneaten food on the table. Maybe my new friend, which I had now named "mickey" (he was too big to be "minnie"), would appreciate our gesture.

On our way out, we took one last opportunity to mention, DISCREETLY, that there was a mouse between the wall and the corner booth. "Yeah, your server told me. We'll get right on that". He said it with such sincerity (sarcasm dripping here like an ice cream cone on the 4th of July) that I just KNEW he was going to take care of it. I think it might have been his practiced eye roll that convinced me. It was as if he thought I might be scared of the mouse. I wasn't scared of the mouse....I was mad because I quite possibly had just eaten mouse DROPPINGS (curds). I left before enlightening him any further.

That was two days ago, and here I am still thinking about it. Should I call the manager? It's certainly not because I want free food....I will have to be VERY hungry before I go into that establishment for another order of wings with mouse dropping sauce again. No, I just believe that I would want to know if I were the manager. And then, what if the manager shows the same apparent lack of concern as his wait staff? Should I call the health department? There's obviously an issue there. One that needs to be corrected.

I'm not a problem child. I rarely complain about food or service. But this one has my moral responsibility barometer cresting at hurricane pressure level. I'm not listing the name of the franchise here, as I don't want to cause anyone harm. But I am wondering, what should I do?

What would you do? Besides joining me in not choosing curds...no whey....at least on purpose.

No Coke

Well, today is 4 weeks with no Coke. I haven't had a caffeinated beverage since Wednesday, 4 weeks ago. (I'm going to pause here for a moment to allow those who know me well to catch their breath and pick themselves off the floor. Take your time. We will wait).

You see, I have long been known as a Coke-a-holic. When others crawled out of bed and longed for that first hot cup of coffee, I was popping the lid or twisting the top of a delicious refrigerated Coke. I don't do coffee or tea. Just never developed a taste for them. But boy, oh boy, could I put the Cokes away.

On a day when I was being really good, I'd only have 3 or 4. But most days it would be 6 or 8, and there were many days that would approach a bakers dozen. To put it in proper context, you should understand that I drink a LOT with my meals. And since Coke was my beverage of choice, I drank a LOT of Coke.

For some reason, on Wednesday 4 weeks ago, I decided to give it up. Just go cold turkey (why do they call it "cold turkey" by the way? I happen to really LIKE cold turkey!) I had a Mountain Dew at lunch that day, and that was it. No more caffeine. I would do water, or milk, or fruit juice, or water aided by Propel powder...but no more Coke. None, zip, nada.

There were several reasons that I went on the wagon. First, I looked in the mirror one morning and realized I was giving Charles Barkley a run for his money in the weight category (he's still far smarter and better looking than me). Secondly, some of my friends were giving up caffeine for 40 days to help raise money for an organization called Blood Water Mission (sponsored by Jars of Clay, and used to build wells in underprivileged communities). And third, my Doc said it might be a good idea to cut down on the caffeine, to help get my heart rate down to a reasonable level. So just like that, I did it.

The CEO of Coke has apparently put my cell on his speed dial, asking what he needs to do to get me back. The Brand Manager for Mountain Dew has called repeatedly, offering discounts and incentives if I will only return to the fold. And the Director of Marketing for SunDrop has informed me that they are going to have to close the fort if I continue with my current foolish course of action.

I must admit I've been tempted several times. Once I was on an artist promo run, and after driving 12 hours during the daylight, I was forced to drive another 5.5 hours before I would reach the hotel. Leaving Jacksonville at 8pm that night, I drove along I-10, salivating every time I would see a lighted truck stop sign. I made up my mind that I wouldn't stop unless I had to get gas, or to make a pit stop. And I worked on my resolve, knowing I'd have to stop at least once before I completed the journey.

Finally, about 4 hours later, the fuel gauge read 1/8 tank. When I finished pumping the gas, I went inside for the necessary pit stop. And before I exited, I found myself staring at the wall of refrigerated coolers, their contents staring at me in multi-colored caffeinated glory. I never before realized how hooked I had become. It was nothing for me to grab two and hit the road, every time I stopped. No wonder I'd have those Baker's Dozen days :-)

On that night, no one was watching me. I could just grab one, hit the road, and no one would know. And it really would be for SAFETY sake, to help keep me awake. Besides, just one couldn't hurt, could it? But as I contemplated, I was afraid if I drank one, I'd be off the wagon for good. It had only been 6 days for me at that point. So I grabbed a couple bottles of water, and hit the road. And safely got to my hotel.

I've gotten my fair share of funny looks from friends & family since then. When out eating with a friend, and I order water with lemon or lime, they just about snap their neck looking at me to see what is wrong. I think several of them believe that I'm really hard up on finances, as they've been quick to pay the check when it came (maybe there are more benefits to this no Coke thing than I realized???). And my mom, who for some reason believes that I hung the moon (I don't have the heart to tell her that I've only SHOT the moon) still isn't quite sure if I'm kidding or not when I tell her I've sworn off Cokes. I guess it really had a hold on me, for folks to be that surprised when I drink something else instead.

Now, all that's left is for me to make it another 12 days (for a total of 40) and then add up what I would have spent on Cokes during that time. I haven't done that yet. I think it's cuz I'm afraid of just how much $$$ that's going to be. I will write a check to the Blood Water Mission for that amount, and hopefully help a town in some underprivileged country obtain good, clean water. That's well worth it. And so far I've lost 17 pounds. Eat your heart out, Round Mound of Rebound! :-) I just may stay on this water-milk-juice kick for longer than 40 days. Who knows? I'll keep you posted. And here's more on the Blood Water Mission, in case you're interested.
http://www.bloodwatermission.com/

Open Hearts

One of the groups that I help to promote has been going thru some difficult times as of late. Wrecked vans, stolen equipment, RV fires...they have REALLY been walking a tough road. It has seemed like they just have been hit at every turn. And yet Addison Road has stayed true to their faith, has continued to serve God, and has continued to minister at every opportunity presented to them. What's up with that??? :-)

Well, the most recent hurdle, the RV fire, really hit them hard. En route to a concert in Las Vegas, their RV caught fire and BURNED TO THE FRAME, stranding them in the middle of the desert. Attached to the RV was a travel trailer carrying ALL of their equipment, as well as all of their musical instruments. As if that wasn't enough to lose, they also lost all of their clothes. ALL of them. What they had left was literally the clothes on their back. And fans were expecting them to be in concert... that same night...in mere hours.

Somehow, they continued on, and didn't miss the concert! That in itself is testimony to their commitment. I don't think anyone would have felt cheated if the concert was postponed due to the circumstances. But they didn't take the easy way out. They journeyed on. They lived up to their commitments.

I was very moved when I read about the fire, and really wanted to do something to try to help. I talked with my wife about it, and we agreed that this was a great opportunity for the church to be the church....for all of us to be the hands and feet of Jesus to them. To reach out and help solve the problem, one little piece at a time. We did the little bit that we could afford to do, and then told a few people about the need. Well, apparently there were a LOT of others who were moved in similar ways, because I began to hear about the need being met from a wide variety of sources.

Fellow artists tweeted and blogged about the need. Fans started to spread the word. And one by one, the church functioned as the church. Single moms....anonymous givers....parents with young kids....churches....musical artists....all kinds of people started reaching out, giving & loving on them!

I could try to share the details, but I believe that they will do a far better job of it. Take a few minutes, click on the links below, and read their story. It will inspire you. It's amazing what God can do through the open, willing hearts of His people.

http://addisonroad.com/

http://www.jennysimmons.com/

Racin' the Mustang!

I got to take the Mustang on a 5 lap jaunt around Nashville SuperSpeedway today! It was part of their Season Ticket promotion, and was a pretty cool experience. Nance rode with me, as the official videographer, and was a trooper.....didn't even flinch at the extreme top speed of 125 (kph).

Yeah...that converts to about 77 mph. They had a couple of "pace" trucks sandwiching us in, making sure we didn't go too fast. My original plan was to be the last car in line (I was successful at that) and to lag back a bit, then catch up at a much faster closing speed. But I believe my smooth plan of trickery had already occurred to them. Or, it could have been my driving gloves, racing helmet and flame proof suit that got them worried? At any rate, for some unknown reason, they placed a pace truck very close to my rear bumper. So my "lag back and then blow their doors off" plan was effectively thwarted.

But we had a blast. Sure, it was nothing like when Devon and I drove at Talladega SuperSpeedway....we drove cars that had served as actual Sprint Cup rides....and each topped out at 165mph...now THAT was the master blaster! :-) But today was what it was, a chance to take your street car on the banked oval, and pretend just a little bit. I took it high to the wall out of turn two, and then dived to the inside going into three.

I was actually a bit loose getting into the turns, and a tick tight coming out. If I had been given the time, I'd have come in for a quarter round on the right rear, and 4 fresh Goodyears. But the Hit Radio Promo Ford was strong all day, had lots of horsepower on the straightaways, and with a little bit of luck & a couple of truck drivers that looked the other way for a split second, we would have gotten the checker. As it was, we got a top 5 finish, didn't wrinkle any sheet metal, brought her home in one piece, and had a good solid day.

Now, I think I'll go grab a coke, fill up with Shell, get the oil changed with Pennzoil Ultima, and take my best girl out for dinner. She deserves it. She filmed the entire "race" from start to finish, and didn't reach for the "oh crap" handle once!

Conspiracy

This is going to be short and sweet. But I'm beginning to think that something smells fishy with this whole "every Toyota has a glitch" thing that's going on right now.

There are a couple things that come to mind. One, folks are hearing of the rare problems with unwanted accelleration, and are recreating those problems for attention and possible profit. Two, it's an intentional attack on Toyota by folks who have other interests at heart (possibly even installing computer bugs or viruses in various and sundry models). Or three, Toyota is in the midst of a massive cover-up, and this problem is much larger than they have admitted to date.

Now, just in case you might think that I have a bone to pick with any of the car manufacturers, I do not. Our family owns 3 toyotas (none of which go faster than we desire), two fords and one chevy. So while we don't own one of everything, the nameplates are represented widely.

And in the spirit of full disclosure, I probably should mention that since getting my drivers license at age 16, I have owned, titled and licensed 187 cars. And counting. Just about every make and model that you can imagine. I know, it sounds completely nuts. But there's a story that goes along with that, too. Check with the sons and the wife. It's true :-)

So....what do you think about the current rash of acceleration problems. Conspiracy, or coincidence? I'm leaning towards conspiracy. There's just too much smoke for there not to be a fire.

Circumstance

"Don't allow your circumstance to affect your view of God. Allow your view of God to affect your circumstance." That's what Pastor Tom said this past Sunday in church. And it has been resonating in my spirit over the past several days.

Things happen all the time that cause us to be discouraged, to question whether we can keep going, and generally put us in a funk. That's a given. It's always going to be that way, as long as we live. Disappointments are going to come. People are going to let us down. We are going to experience failure and contemplate quitting. We are going to stumble, and sometimes fall.

But it's what we do in the face of those circumstances that determines who we will become. Will we stay mired in the depression and despair of the circumstance? Or will we rest in the knowledge that God is never surprised by anything that happens in our life, and that He has a plan for our future? And that oh, by the way, He is God.

His plan has always been better than my plan. I'm confident of this, having tried both paths in the past. Repeatedly :-) His plan isn't always easiest, but it's best. His way isn't always the most comfortable, but He has forged it for me. He intends for me to walk it....with Him. But it's my choice which way to go. Will I walk with my eyes on Him, or will I stumble with my eyes on the circumstance?

"Don't allow your circumstance to affect your view of God. Allow your view of God to affect your circumstance." Powerful words that Pastor Tom spoke, as he was facing a circumstance of his own. His wife sat a few rows in front of him, having been diagnosed with colon cancer just a couple days before. I didn't know of their struggle until well after the words pierced my heart. Now they have even more surgical precision.

Reality. Discouragement. Life. Death. Uncertainty. Crisis. Sickness. All are circumstances that can cloud our vision, and impair our walk. Will we focus on the what, or will we focus on the Who? (no, not Roger Daltrey) He is able to affect our view, change our outlook, and give us hope. Psalm 42 & 43 remind us "why so downcast, oh my soul? Put your trust in God". "Send Your light and Your truth. Let them guide me. Let them bring me to Your holy mountain, to the place where You dwell."

As the old saying goes, "you can't see the forest for the trees". So where will we choose to focus? It really is that simple.

Insulted

So I'm pumping gas last night. Minding my own business, lost in the thoughts of what I meant to accomplish today, and what's left to finish tomorrow. Out of nowhere, I hear the guy on the other side of the pump say, "hey, congratulations! When's it due?".

What?!? Are you kidding me??? I stare at him incredulously, and feel a serious dose of anger welling up in my spirit. Now here's a guy in serious need of some butt whoopin! And I just happen to have a can. Him??? He's cool as a cucumber, just staring right through me, not one bit afraid.

A split second before I punch his lights out...in Christian love, of course....I hear this voice behind me, obviously female. "Thanks....just about a month to go". I go from extreme anger to hard-to-control hilarity in 2.1 seconds. Hoping my expression hasn't given away EITHER emotion, and wondering if I should apologize to him for almost cleaning his clock (which I now understand wasn't in need of housekeeping or janitorial service), I calmly finish filling my tank and replace my nozzle, exactly as the instructions I'm now studiously reading direct me to do.

I've never realized before this never ending moment how LONG it takes for the stupid gas pump to give you your receipt! It's years! We are now in a honey-molasses state of time continuum. NO, I don't want any of those three choices of car washes!!! Please, can I just have my proof of purchase so I'll have a defense when the policeman pulls me over for driving off without paying? And before this constricted belly laugh forces my face to explode would be nice!

I've finished reading the "what to do in case of fire" directions and have started on the "handicapped access" portion when finally....FINALLY....my receipt makes its way out of the slot, and I'm able to get in the car, and drive home, laughing all the way (why does the phrase "bells on bobtails ring" come to mind at this moment???)

Heading home, I found it's hard to stay safely in your lane when you can't see for laughing. Mr Policeman is going to have an entirely different reason for pulling me over now. Won't that look good on tomorrows front page..."Pregnant Christian Music Promoter Stopped For DUI". Yeah, THAT would be hilarious. :-) Honey, I have something we need to talk about.....

Dinner time has always been a special time in the Giles home. Laughter abounds, and everyone shares the events of their day. Tonight at dinner, 3 year old Landon was busy bringing us up to speed on his trip to the Post Office with Dad.

Apparently, they had seen a beautiful sunset, and his dad (Devon) had told him that God paints the sunset every night. And that He paints the sunrise each morning. And that He is so powerful that He had created mommy, and daddy, and papa, and GiGi, and everyone in our family.

You know what they say, "out of the mouths of babes"? Landon looked at his dad, smiled wistfully, and said, "no He didn't". As if to say, "silly daddy, is anyone really that powerful"? Since his dad is Superman, he probably thought his daddy had done all of that. They proceeded to talk about it on the way home, with Dad giving his son many examples of the power of God. Examples of a God so big and so powerful that He can do anything. And Landon just took it all in as they drove home.

So tonight at dinner, Devon asked Landon, "what did we see this afternoon when we were driving?". Landon thought for a minute, and didn't answer right away. So Devon prompted him, "What did God do?". Landon quickly replied to that question, "anything He wants to".

That's right, my boy. :-) He sure can, and does. Wish I could have put it that succinctly when I was three. And maybe I needed to be reminded of that tonight. God is able. Thanks Landon, for leading the bible study. And thank you, God, for the sunsets. They are my constant reminder that You haven't left your post. Ever watchful, ever vigilant, ever caring. Can't wait to see what you paint tomorrow morning.

Dream

I had a dream last night. In my dream, the most beautiful girl in the world was in love with me. She was loyal to me, was my very best friend, and was the absolute very best part of me. We loved being around each other. We laughed, and cried, and trusted, and lived, looking forward to each day together. And our romance was one for the record books. We were truly head over heels in love with each other.

She was so amazing! She always thought of everyone else before herself. She was a true example of God's love in her everyday life. And her family adored her. She had a lot of grandkids, even though she still looked young enough to be a newlywed. Have I mentioned that she was gorgeous?!? And for some strange reason, she overlooked all my faults, and let me know that she loved me with all of her heart.

She was an amazing cook. In my dream I was really fat, because I ate WAY too much of her food. But we were walking together every night so that I wouldn't be as fat anymore. And her desserts & baking were the best I had ever had. Dinnertimes were always special at her house. And she was the most accomplished hostess of all time.

So that was my dream. Pretty amazing, huh? Well, I was even more astounded when I woke up this morning. I looked over to my left, and there she was. My dream girl. My best frend. The one He had handcrafted for me. The most beautiful girl in the whole world. The love of my life, in my bed, in my life, in my heart forever. And I was still fat... :-)

So....the only thing not true about that dream were the evening walks. Guess we better get started on THAT point tonight. Because I am living a dream come true. Thank you, God.

Someone broke into our house last night. Well, at least that's what it SOUNDED like, when I woke up early this morning to the sound of someone tearing our front door off the hinges. It sounded like they were using a sledgehammer, steamroller, jackhammer combination. So I bounded out of bed, fully ready to take on the intruder in all of my pajama glory.

Bursting out the bedroom door, I arrived in the living room and assumed the pose that you're supposed to assume when someones breaking into your house....you know the pose I'm talking about...the macho look, the martial arts posture, the fists clenched, the chest puffed out....all the things that say, "you've broken into the wrong house, buddy. And you're fixin' to regret it!"

Imagine my surprise when I found our front door right where it was supposed to be. Unscathed. Pristine. Locked. And no one on the other side, trying to get in. Then I heard the sound again. It wasn't coming from our front door. It was coming from another area of the house. My sonar macho-martial arts hearing deduced it was coming from the middle of the living room. Behind me. Right where the dog cage was supposed to be.

With my eyes still struggling to focus in the dark, I made my way over to the dog cage, and peered in. Little Jezzi was running around her cage, bouncing off the sides like something obsessed. So that was where the demolition noise was coming from? I opened the front gate, and Jezzi shot out like a grenade launcher, and started to make the circle between the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Apparently this is the international dog sign for "I really have to go outside and pee". She was on her 14th lap by the time it took me to get to the back door, some 3.2 seconds.

Opening the back door, I reached for the latch to unlock the screen. But Jezzi was in too much of a hurry to wait. Straight thru the door she crashed, making one of those dog shapes in the door that you see in cartoons. Well, I guess that's probably the way she saw it happening in her "I really gotta go pee" mind. What actually happened is that she hit the door going 104, and bounced back into the kitchen in a blur of fur and spit. Not discouraged, she got back up, and shot back towards her outdoor restroom. This time I'd had long enough to get the screen open, and thru a combination of air/water propulsion, she jetted herself out the door and up the hill.

As I bent down to notice the dripping debris on my thankfully rubber houseshoes, she stopped halfway up the hill, looked back, and in a distinctly British accent, shot me a look that said, "can I get a little privacy here?". At that point, as far as I was concerned, she could have all the privacy she wanted. This admitted dog-lover was contemplating Jezzi barbecue-on-the-spit for dinner. I was uttering unintelligible combinations of words, all directed at our intelligence-challenged little furball. My wife was busy covering her face under the blankets so I wouldn't immediately see/hear her trying vainly not to laugh out loud. The quaking blanket and shaking bed always give her away. I cleaned my houseshoes (that I now realize are designed with HOLES all over them), washed my feet, stifled my giggles, and got back into bed.

It was now 5am. The adrenaline that had shot thru my body 10 minutes earlier was now saying "you don't really want to go back to sleep, do you?". My wife asked me if I was ok (in between the stifled laughter). Yes, I was fine. :-) Let's go back to sleep. So we both fluffed out pillows, and turned over, determined to catch another hour or so of sleep before sunrise.

Then, we did what every good, patriotic, God-fearing American does when their house is broken into in the middle of the night. We got up, got dressed, snuck out quietly, and drove to Dunkin Donuts. There's something about a sour cream donut that can make it all seem ok.

The sun has risen, darkness has receded, reminding me once again that God is faithful, looking over my every step.