Sunday, February 6, 2011

Cain's Pain

I am but a farmer, and you, brother, but a shepherd.

Yet your way disagrees with mine.

Simple though we both may be,

With pride is my reflection viewed.

Bring your fatted calf to God, but it will not suffice.

The fruit of my work will win God's grace to me instead.

But wait -- why is my sacrifice scorned and yours upheld?

Adam's cursed toil is not good enough?

Though I work until my bones ache, and you wander the earth

Stargazing and without a home,

God smiles upon you and shifts His eyes toward me.

The farmer is Adam's transgression's fruit.

Why does He fawn over you and welcome you to His arms?

In your absence, I would be accepted and loved.

As I deserve.

Here, let me show you my new hand-plow.

Hold it here, take it thusly...

Wait -- here. You give it a try.


Now, God...Where have you gone?

What's that?

No idea.....

But here -I- am. See, here? My grain and fruit are pleasing.

My hard work and sweat and blood have yielded a sacrifice pleasing for you.



OH! Alas, for work and aching bones!

Now I wander the earth, star-gazing and without a home.


Would that I were more able to Love.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Tell out my soul....

Sing, my soul, his wondrous love
Sing, my soul, his wondrous love, who from yon bright throne above,
ever watchful o'er our race, still to us extends his grace.

Heaven and earth by him were made; all is by his scepter swayed;
what are we that he should show so much love to us below?

God, the merciful and good, bought us with the Savior's blood,
and, to make our safety sure, guides us by his Spirit pure.

Sing, my soul, adore his Name! Let his glory be thy theme:
praise him till he calls thee home; truth his love for all to come.

Tell out, my soul, the greatness of the Lord
Tell out, my soul, the greatness of the Lord! Unnumbered blessings give my spirit voice;
tender to me the promise of his word; in God my Savior shall my heart rejoice.

Tell out, my soul, the greatness of his Name! Make known his might, the deeds his arm has done;
his mercy sure, from age to age to same; his holy Name--the Lord, the Mighty One.

Tell out, my soul, the greatness of his might! Powers and dominions lay their glory by.
Proud hearts and stubborn wills are put to flight, the hungry fed, the humble lifted high.

Tell out, my soul, the glories of his word! Firm is his promise, and his mercy sure.
Tell out, my soul, the greatness of the Lord to children's children and for evermore!

How does my SOUL speak? Or sing? We sang two hymns (#s 438 & 467) in church Sunday that encourage the singer's SOUL to speak up! "Sing, my soul, his wondrous love!...Sing, my soul, adore His name!...Praise him til he calls thee home; truth His love for all to come!" And then, "Tell out, my soul, the greatness of the Lord! ... the greatness of His name! ...the greatness of His might! ...the glories of His Word!" Sooooooo, how does my soul speak? or Sing? And specifically, how does my soul speak or sing in a way that others can hear it? For God calls us to worship God, right? But God also calls us to evangelize -- we need more FISHERS OF MAN! So how can my SOUL sing out, tell out, cry a way that worships God AND nets more fish???

There is a lot of good that comes from my MOUTH singing out or telling out the greatness of the Lord. And for many people, often when their mouth sings out the praises of God, their soul is actually behind it. But the voice speaking is not ALWAYS necessarily preceded by or accompanied by the soul speaking, is it? Surely those many times in our lives we speak and it is not God's Word exiting our mouths, our SOUL -- the handiwork of God's spirit -- is not apparent. It's possible I think to SPEAK words -- even words of truth, that are not born in soul, not born in God In Us...not what God would have us say right now (and on another topic, isn't it amazing that God can still create such GOOD out of our blunders?)....

My soul has spoken out in God's name when it becomes apparent to those around me when "They know I am Christian by my love." That can happen while I'm being silent. It can happen while I'm in church. It can happen while I'm walking through the restaurant. It can happen while I'm asleep because of something that happened earlier. And it can happen, and often does, I'd bet, when I'm not even aware of whatever I did or said for someone to find God in me. I KNOW that happens regularly for me with others... Because God uses us in ways we know of, and God uses us in ways we're oblivious to -- and couldn't understand if we DID know about them.

Today is my mom's birthday. She's received a few notes on Facebook including one or two with hopes for a year of grace. She would tell you -- and probably will when she reads this -- that in the last 5 weeks she has gained a real appreciation for how God uses people in surprising ways to demonstrate God's grace in our lives. She would probably say that it's been a very long time since so much grace and love was thrown at her from directions she wouldn't necessarily have expected. She has been reminded, over 5 weeks, that the little instances of grace and expressions of care and outbursts of SOUL -- all of which are God's little brushstrokes in the painting of life -- stick out so boldly, and color our canvases so prominently...

During the time she needs love and hugs the MOST, she has felt loved and hugged by God through the love and hugs of people...some of whom were re-introduced to mom's life after some absence. Not even purposeful absence -- just that absence that happens when we don't intentionally maintain our relationships with people... One of dad's greatest gifts was helping relationships heal and in ways I won't go into here, in his death he may have topped himself one last time -- time will tell. Even people mom doesn't know or isn't friends with have seen relationships heal or be brought back together through the event of dad's death... sad that we allow ourselves to require such events to make an effort sometimes, isn't it?

But also....ISN'T GOD GRAND that he takes an event that is so hurtful and grievous and works so much good in it? I sit here and give my dad credit for helping relationships heal -- and he did. His personality and forgiving spirit was & is perfect for that kind of work. But it's GOD who's doing the work. THANK GOD for vessels like my dad who are willing to do that kind of work, and THANK GOD for God, who ALWAYS knows what kind of work to do, ALWAYS knows when to do it, ALWAYS knows how to get it done, and ALWAYS knows who is supposed to play a role.

And finally, OPEN YOUR EYES AND YOUR EARS AND YOUR SOULS, Leebo, that you may know when it's your turn to be called on by God to work grace in people's lives.

"Sing, my soul, his wondrous love, who from yon bright throne above,
ever watchful o'er our race, still to us extends his grace."

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Bread of Life

I am the Bread of Life

I am the bread of life; He who comes to Me shall not hunger.
He who believes in Me shall not thirst; No one can come to Me unless the Father draw him.

And I will raise him up, And I will raise him up, And I will raise him up on the last day

The bread that I will give Is My flesh for the life of the world.
And he who eats of this bread -- he shall live for ever; he shall live for ever!

And I will raise him up, And I will raise him up, And I will raise him up on the last day

Unless you eat of the flesh of the Son of Man
And drink of His blood, and drink of His blood, you shall not have life within you.

And I will raise him up, And I will raise him up, And I will raise him up on the last day

I am the resurrection. I am the life!
He who believes in Me, even if he die he shall live for ever!

And I will raise him up, And I will raise him up, And I will raise him up on the last day

Yes, Lord, we believe that You are the Christ:
The Son of God who has come into the world.

And I will raise him up, And I will raise him up, And I will raise him up on the last day

(C) Suzanne Toolan, 1971

The song above is such a powerful hymn of praise. Next week in the Episcopal and other churches, we take a look at the scripture whence comes this hymn from John's gospel, Chapter 6. In the bible, the story immediately follows the story of the Feeding of the 5000... In fact, it has all the same characters played by all the same people. And the folks who had just watched Jesus turn a basket full of food into a feast for 1000X more people than it should have fed followed him across the sea to put him to the test.

They wanted him to recreate the miracle that their forefathers had witnessed in the wilderness so many years before, when God rained down manna upon them from heaven (Exodus 16). Can YOU imagine having sat on the hillside that day, when Jesus blessed and broke bread for 5000 people? They should have gotten a crumb each, by rights, for none of them brought their lunchables or thermoses of soup in their transformer lunchboxes that day. Rightfully, they would have skipped lunch, but Jesus performed a sign for them... Can you put yourself in their thong sandals?

Realistically, no, because none of us have lived through what those people had lived through. They weren't too sure about this Jesus yet, honestly -- he hadn't died for their sins yet.... so they had a bit of an excuse, but for crying out loud -- he fed thousands of people with a basket full of bread and fish -- enough food for one or two families to enjoy a meager lunch, at best. Isn't it bizarre...isn't it WILD... isn't it even a little insulting that these people wanted to test Jesus further after witnessing such a powerful event?

I mean, those people around today who insist on having PROOF of God's existence and God's power -- they wouldn't have had much to say on that hillside that day, would they? Not much questioning the power of Jesus on this, yet the people gathered DID. The unmitigated temerity! This is no magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat -- this is a magician pulling 5000 rabbits out of a hat! SERIOUSLY, people! What more evidence should a person really need to believe in God -- to believe in Jesus' power to provide abundantly for His people?

So yeah, it's easy for me to look at those people through the words of the text and judge them. How simplistic does this really need to be, you blind baboons?!


Then, I stop for a second. 'Cause I get the lesson too. We all know this story -- we've been hearing it for years. Perhaps there is no better example of a time when Jesus proved His Godly power than this one... I think it's fair to say that in other stories, He didn't prove it in so obvious a way to so many people as he did here. What more evidence, indeed, then, should I need to believe in God -- and to live my life for Him?

"I trust in God's wisdom." Then why don't I answer the way God would answer every time?
"I trust in God's power." Then why do I hesitate to take a risk and trust in God's strength to pick me up if I fall?
"I trust in God's authority." Then why do I continuously push back against God's will and God's commandments?
"I trust in God's reconciliation." Then why do I pray daily, "Forgive me my trespasses as I forgive those who have trespassed against me," yet consistently sin against my neighbor and consistently fail to forgive them? And fail to forgive myself?

While Jesus weeps for me because I just don't get it.

Jesus is the bread of life. Jesus is all our souls need to survive. To progress. To thrive. They who come to Him shall not hunger for forgiveness, for worth. They who believe in Him will never thirst for companionship, for love, for wisdom.
And all those who come to Christ with yearning hearts and minds and souls and will be raised up on their last day, just like my dad was. We sang this song at his funeral, and it was absolutely the highest form of praise people can muster, that day. There were plenty of musicians present but you could not hear them because the people were singing this song of worship with all their might. For a moment, we all GOT IT.

I don't want to wait and be reminded of this lesson again next time a funeral comes along and this is played. Will you pray for me? Will you pray that I (and you) might JUST GET IT? Oh, it's not going to happen overnight... but if we could just GET IT, a little more often in situations when we should TRUST instead of judging, we'd become better people... We'd become better servants for God. We'd help other people start to GET IT.

I've referred before to a simple, intangible quality that some people have that gives us quiet confidence in them. It gives us a KNOWLEDGE that the person is right with God, that God shines through the person, that God can say, daily, "Well done, good and faithful servant." There's just something about Mary. Well, I believe this is the simple intangible. This is the something. Folks who have had enough evidence or proof -- whether that is none or a ton for them -- to walk that path without questioning any more are THOSE people.

God, please give me the willingness to allow the feeding of the 5000 to be enough. To allow the manna raining from heaven, the parting of the Red Sea, the burning bush, Daniel's experience in the Lion's Den, Jonah's experience in the whale, the healing of the blind, the cleansing of lepers, the turning of water into wine, the resurrection of Lazarus to be enough. To allow my survival of the fall from that second story window, my meeting my soulmate and partner for life in 7th grade, the home-births of my three kids, and the resurrection of MY father to be enough.

Please give me the willingness to allow the death and resurrection of your Son to be enough.

Soften my resolve, Lord, that I may allow your love to be enough. Amen.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Get out of the box.

"Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It's too late when we die
To admit we don't see eye to eye"

Mike and the Mechanics -- "The Living Years"

The song is a ballad of regret expressed by a son about having never told his father how he really felt about his father's expectations of him and his "failure" to live up to what his father felt he should be. I am so fortunate not to have had this kind of relationship with my dad -- or either of my parents for that matter. I have not ever once felt disappointment from my parents about my performance in life, even during times that I look back now and can clearly see what a disappointment I must have been in the moment.

So I can't really connect with this song very much -- I never have been able to. But on a different, broader front, if you don't pay attention to ALL of the lyrics, the song seems to be passing on a message that each of us could stand to listen to. I've written about it before, but not with this spin on it. I've said before that I believe we are all very much guilty of not taking advantage of hundreds of chances we are confronted with each day to speak a kind word, make contact, pay attention, be sincere, make a phone call, say hello, serve. It's not something to beat yourself up about -- it's something to seek improvement with. And in the last two weeks I've realized a little bit more clearly how important it is to seek that improvement.

See, I can't seek improvement now when it comes to communication with my dad. I know he's with me and in me and I believe I can talk to him and he'll listen and I believe I can still learn from him. And don't get me wrong -- my relationship with dad was good. Heck, it was great. Thank GOODNESS he had surgery a couple months ago, because I've spoken with him at least weekly, I think, since then. I've spoken with him more times in the last 8 weeks than in the 8 months prior to that. I'm so thankful for that. We didn't get neck-deep in any father-son philosophical conversations or anything -- there haven't been any major dilemmas he guided me through in that time... But we've talked. We've talked about soccer! We've talked about pain and recovery from surgery. We've talked about God. And we laughed together! Man, my dad could laugh. I bet his laugh echoes even more in heaven than it did here. What a joy it must be to the ears of those who dwell in that mansion.

So what's my point? Well, my point is, my communication with my dad wasn't the best. It got better recently, but I wonder where we would have been, with each other, if we hadn't each had a surgery within the last couple months. I think he would have probably died without feeling particularly connected with me in life recently. I KNOW I would have felt that way. I'm so glad I don't feel that way.... the feeling would absolutely devastate me. Maybe it would you, too.

Slapping me in the face today is the fact that every person has the opportunity to do what dad and I did in recent weeks, but so many people don't see it or don't see the need for it or don't care about it or don't realize the possible consequences if they pass it up. So I'm calling you out now ....

Call your dad.
Call your mom.
Call your brothers, sisters, sons, daughters.
Speak to your coworkers.
Acknowledge a stranger.
Don't FAIL to appreciate the relationships you have with God's children. With God's hands and feet. And don't FAIL to communicate your appreciation.

There is some improvement that can be made in your relationships with the people in your life. And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow you won't have a chance with someone.

The Shack teaches that God can use any situation, no matter how devastating or ugly or hideous or evil-seeming it may be, to God's purpose and God's glory.

My dad, at his best -- in his essence -- was a great healer, a great reconciler, a great mediator, a great forgiver. Since his death I have seen healing happen as a result of his death or people's feelings about it...

Maybe you have the opportunity to continue dad's legacy within the relationships in your life.
Maybe there's something broken about one or more of your relationships that you can take a step toward repairing.

But maybe not. Maybe you feel like your relationships are pretty healthy, thank you very much. In that case, I promise you that you can do nothing but good for calling some of those people or emailing them or changing your Facebook status or tweeting...
Thanks for being my friend, my parent, my pastor, my child.
Serve the people around you -- It's Not About You.
Give someone an encouraging word and then be intentional about taking advantage of the opportunities you have throughout your days to let folks know you appreciate them.

Because if you miss the chance today, you may not see them tomorrow.

I know it is cliché, but I'm just telling you, friends... never before has cliché been so blasted real and so blasted final.
And so blasted painful.

I love y'all.
THANK YOU, anyone who's thought of us or prayed for us or offered a kind word in the last two weeks.
THANK YOU to anyone who will continue to pray for us in the days and weeks to come.
THANK YOU to anyone who made it to the visitation or the funeral and witness a celebration of my dad's life.
THANK YOU to those at Honey Creek camp this week who have patiently loved my family through their grief.
THANK YOU to anyone who reads this and honors my dad by making a decision to be intentional and proactive about tending your relationships with loved ones and strangers.

(I am going to take this opportunity to (again) recommend a book to you. It's called Leadership and Self Deception and is by The Arbinger Institute. A coworker recommended it to me and I am so thankful she did. There is no soul alive whose body should not get its hands on this book and read it. It can be a life-changing experience.)

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Let Go and Let God

I would often get very sleepy listening to dad's sermons when I was a kid. I guess all kids can sometimes get lost when it's time for the sermon... The guy up there is using big words, talking about things you don't know and don't care about. It's easy to space out a little, even as an adult, but especially as a kid.

Now, though, I hardly hear a sermon I'm not intent upon listening to with every part of me -- looking to glean some knowledge or revelation that will help me better understand who I am; who I'm supposed to be. I haven't heard my dad preach a sermon in a long, long time. I regret that so much. It may have been 5 years since I attended a service where he preached. Can that be? Maybe it is... Anyway, I miss them, because when my dad was at his worst, he was a rambling, aimless preacher who hit on multiple topics within the same sermon.....and STILL FOUND HOME for most people. And at his best, he could captivate 100 people for a half hour and bring them to sorrowful or angry tears, and joyous laughter, within a single sentence, then help them struggle to the foot of the cross and introduce them once more to Jesus. Those sermons were one of the thousands of reasons why there were 200+ people at his funeral in a church that only seats 150.

I fancy myself a pretty decent speaker, too, when I'm speaking about something I'm passionate about. I love teaching people about service and leadership, and have been told it's obvious I have passion for that when I do teach it -- which I take as an extreme compliment. I imagine my dad was the same way. I imagine most people are the same way. When we have the opportunity to share with people who are interested information about something we love, we turn it up a notch. There is a different tone in our voice. Our eyes light up. We stage-whisper at the dramatic bits. We gesture widely. There is passion in the delivery when there is passion about the message.

I was lamenting the fact that I hadn't heard my dad preach in a while when I learned that my mom still has dozens of cassette tapes which hold more than a hundred of dad's sermons. There probably aren't many of his more recent sermons, but that's ok, because my dad's passions were the same recently as they were 20 years ago. My dad was a forgiver, and a healer, and he believed in a God that could change anyone -- even a pagan -- until that person became a disciple Jesus would be proud of.

I hijacked a few of those tapes when I left Sunday, and listened to them on the way home. Mom said I should be careful about hearing his voice, but aside from a little initial shock, I did fine with that. In fact, these tapes were old enough that his voice seemed somehow different to me than I remember it being. Except for the pervading theme that we cannot put God in a box. Dad loved a God who loves to surprise us, and one of the sermons I listened to was about that. I've actually listened to it multiple times now, and I'll likely end up putting the text of that one on here, but in a nutshell, dad illustrated that Jesus, time and time again taught people that God is a God of surprises.

The Jews expected Jesus to be born into a royal family, but , He was born in a stable into a carpenter's family. They believed in the idea of "An eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth," but , Jesus taught to turn the other cheek. They believed that the sinner was to be treated like the enemy, but He said he came to benefit the sinner. They thought the leper deserved to be treated as an unclean outcast, but He taught that they were the children of God -- and He touched them, and healed them. They believed they were unworthy of God's love, but He said 'Zacheus, come down -- I wish to dine with you.' They believed Jesus was dead and buried forever; and that His followers would disappear... but SURPRISE! They found the tomb empty...and His followers became the largest religious group anywhere, any time.

Dad then challenges his listeners by asking them each... If your favorite part of the Sunday experience -- music, sermon, prayer book, terminology, communion -- were going to disappear for a year, would you still show up to worship Jesus? See, here I am, almost 20 years later, learning from my dad the week after his death that I have been selfish in my attitudes about worship. That I should turn my face completely toward God and yearn to worship Him...and quit worrying about what part of the service or the fellowship or the experience exactly meets or fails to meet my perception of How Things Should Be.

Later, Dad asks the congregations some questions and challenges them to ask themselves these questions going forward...saying that if the answers to these questions are "no," they probably haven't been listening to God as closely as they should be....
Has God done anything lately which shocked or surprised you?
Has your understanding of what God is like and what He wants and what He wants from the Church changed in the last few years?
Has your worship become more an expression of love for God? (Or is it dependent more on some other less significant and worldly thing like the preacher's words, or the book's terminology, or the church's position on some issue?)

Dad closes by teaching that if we really want to love God with all our heart, our soul, our mind, and our strength, and if we really want to know Him, then we have to let go of our personal prejudices and preferences...and let God change OUR thinking and our understanding, adopting a BIBLICAL wisdom and understanding... HIS wisdom and understanding. We can't be SO SURE of ourselves, but be willing to entertain the possibility that the Lord has more in store for us now than we can possibly know or understand.

I CANNOT WAIT to listen to the rest of dad's sermons. I left all but about 5 cassettes at my mom's house. I wish I had them all now. I'll probably get sleepy on some of them, but I have to tell you -- I am VERY EXCITED about the idea that God's waiting to SURPRISE me through my dad's 20 year old words! Dad has always been wise, even in the times when I would have been the last to admit it...but now, his wisdom will pervade even death, for I have a resource invaluable to learn from and use, and I am overwhelmed that my parents have such a gift for me during this time when I need it most. I'll close with the few but powerful words dad prayed at the end of that sermon, asking on behalf of his congregation....

Come, Holy Spirit, and surprise us now with the abundance of your grace. AMEN.

Take a Shot!

When I was young -- elementary school aged -- I played soccer. I played well, actually. My parents had multiple clippings and video tapes from games in which I was the winning scorer, or in which I scored multiple goals in a game. That's a little ridiculous, even in the clumsy, slow-paced style with which People Who Are Small play the game. It wasn't that I was a supreme physical specimen, or that I had been coached or trained better than any others. I don't know WHAT it was, actually. Considering how my game went from middle school on, it appears to have been dumb luck.

But one thing I know didn't HURT my game back then was the encouragement I got from the sidelines. See, when you go to little league or peewee games, there are basically three kinds of parents. One is quiet, and studious. They support their child or children by showing up and watching... and they probably tell them after the game how well they did or give them pointers about various ways they might improve. The other two kinds are loud. One of those is angry-loud. They shout at the refs. They should at their angel's team mates to pass the ball. They shout at parents behind the other bench. They shout at parents behind their own bench. they shout at their own kid. And they are discouraging to all involved in their manner.

The third kind is how my parents -- and many others -- were. They cheered. They were encouragers. If you ever have had or do have the privilege of seeing one of those home videos, God Bless You, you'll hear my mom's voice throughout, encouraging not only me but my team mates, and possibly even the other team (well, no). But my dad was intense. He didn't cheer as much as Mom, I don't think, but when it really got good, when the superstar was in front of the goal ready to let loose a shot to the upper-right corner, you might catch a glimpse of him in the corner of the screen kicking at his own imaginary ball and you might definitely hear him lavishing praise on the players and especially on his son. He was a soccer player too (and a darn good one, I might add), and he couldn't help but get wrapped up in the game...but more than that he just wanted to help me do my best. "Come on, LEE!" he would yell. "Get in there! Take a shot!"

That was a long time ago. My dad changed a lot over the years. I did too. I played soccer throughout school, til my senior year, when I was too out of shape and not willing enough to work hard enough to do well enough to play. Dad never beat me up about that, though I know it must have disappointed him and my mom both that I hadn't given my best effort. Dad had quieted a lot by that time, and I was the typical teenager, begging not to be parented too much. My parents were wonderful in those years about continuously teaching and being there to support me but also letting me take my own path and learn my own lessons. I can only hope to be as good as they were at balancing parenting and independence.

I went to college and didn't make it at college either. And I was broken when I talked to my dad and mom from my dorm room and told them I needed to come home. And they took me back home, and loved me more than ever before during the next months when I struggled with my own failures. I couldn't quote a single word from any conversation I had with either of them during that time, but I know that at the time of my life when I needed it most, my mom and dad loved me unconditionally. And my dad until the day he died continued to bear some of the burden of the sacrifice they laid out for me during that time. My mom still bears some of it now, though not for much longer. And it's been a long, LONG time since I heard my dad yell and encourage me from a sideline, but the sound is so clear in my head. They have so consistently loved and encouraged me during the last 15 years, through several employment and school situations... and they still love and encourage me today. Even my dad still encourages me today.

See, I have some things to do. There are some jobs I need to finish. I need some closure on a few things. And there are paths I have to tread which I don't even see yet. I have an incredible, winding, long road to travel. I have no idea where it goes, but I know where it starts, and I know that my dad, now in his perfect state -- in his perfect, whole, holy, energetic, happy, joyful, athletic, and final state -- is standing on the sideline, and will never leave it again...and I can hear his voice in my head -- and maybe in my ears. "Come on, LEE! Get in there! Take a shot!" I'm gonna hit the goal this time. And if I don't, dad will still be there, cheering me on, and I'll keep shooting til I get it.

My Dream

Last night, I dreamed Beth and I were in the car.

I was driving.

We both fell asleep.

I woke up and Beth was leaned over sideways in front of me, still asleep.

And her hair/head was in my face.

So I was slowing down and at the same time screaming at her to wake up.

(In the dream, her hair was in my face and my voice was muffled, almost like it would be if her hair was IN my mouth)

but she wouldn't wake up (she was fine, just really asleep).

I hit the brakes as hard as I could while trying to keep the wheel straight.

and we got stopped.


no problems.

So... get this... Beth woke me up (in real life, not in the dream).

She says I was sleeptalking and my voice was really strange. She could tell that I was probably yelling in my dream.

She said I was pressing against her feet with mine (braking).

She said I was shaking -- especially my arms (steering & turbulence).

And when I woke up, I was fine -- it wasn't like waking up in horror or anything.

It was just an adventure.

But I had been horrified in my dream.

It wouldn't have surprised me in the least if I'd waked up screaming and shaking and sweating.

And it's the first time in forever that I woke up with a vivid, detailed memory of a dream.