Pros and Cons

Son:

On this your thirteenth birthday, knowing your heart and mind as we do, your mother and I present to you this katana.

The sword is the emblem of honor and should incite the bearer to a just and generous pursuit of honor and virtue. It is symbolic of liberty and strength. 

However, a sword is just a tool.  It has no heart, no mind, no conscience, no mercy.  A sword is only as good as the judgment and character of the person who wields it.

The sword is used in Scripture as a symbol of the Word of God.  Ephesians 6:17 tells us to “take . . . the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”  Hebrews 4:12 tells us of the power of the Sword of the Spirit:  “For the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”

As you enter into manhood, our prayer for you is that you would be a sword in the hand of the Lord, that your life and character would represent honor, justice, virtue, liberty and strength.  Our prayer is that you would be the Lord’s tool, a Warrior executing the desires of His heart, His mind, and perhaps especially His mercy.  We pray that God would grant you the wisdom to pierce soul and spirit, judging the thoughts and intentions of your own heart, as well as the hearts of other men.  However, to realize our prayers for you, you will need to immerse yourself in His Word . . . His Sword.  You will need to study it, train in it, practice with it to become proficient, just as you must become proficient with this blade before you can wield it in battle.

A katana is a very special kind of sword, because it is more than just a sword – it is part of the samurai’s personal honor and the honor of his family.

A katana is made from a specialized steel which consists of combinations of hard steel and tough steel. The hard steel is able to hold a sharper edge, but is more brittle and may break in combat. The tough steel is softer and easier to blunt, but is more flexible, able to absorb incredible impacts without breaking. The makers of a katana wrap an outer layer of hard steel around a center of tough steel, thereby taking advantage of the best attributes of both kinds of steel.  As a result, a katana is renowned for its razor sharpness, but is very difficult to break.

In the same way, you must be strong, sharp, unyielding to the resistance you will face as you become a man of honor, a man of God, His Warrior.  But, like the katana, you must also be flexible, willing to bend and able to absorb incredible punishment and stress without breaking.

During the forging process a katana is heated to a temperature of about 800° Celsius (1500° Fahrenheit).  The superheated steel is beaten and then plunged into water or oil to quench the heat, altering the fundamental composition of the steel itself, and causing it to bend, giving the katana its distinctive curved blade and markings.  This process bonds the two types of steel, hardens it, and prepares it for sharpening to a razor’s edge,

Likewise, as you become a man of God – a process which will last your entire life – He will subject you to trials, tests and tasks which will challenge your spirit to its utmost.  He will lead you into the midst of a fiery furnace, and he will let you stay there for a time.  And then, when you think that you have reached the limit of your endurance, He will take you from the furnace and plunge you into the cold, dark depths, until you are fundamentally changed, and you are no longer the person you were before.  In Zechariah 13:9, He assures you that He will bring you through the fire, refine you as silver is refined, and test you as gold is tested.  He promises that you will call on His name, and He will answer you; He will say “You are my son,’ And you will say, ‘The Lord is my God.’”  Likewise, in Malachi 3:3, the Lord promises that He will purify you and refine you like gold and silver, so that you may present to the Lord offerings in righteousness.  He will do this to refine you, to purify you, to remove the things which make you weak, so that you will be stronger, sharper, bent to His will, and more apt to His hand and His purposes.  What you think will ruin you will sanctify you, and make you a better man than you ever thought you could be.  The best of men.

Like a katana; the best of swords.

Well, we remembered the Alamo.  Technically, I guess I remembered it, as it was Caleb’s first visit.  That place never fails to inspire and humble me, and I hope it did Caleb as well (with him you can never tell).  We’ve seen the 1960 John Wayne version of the movie together, and as soon as we can we’ll watch the 2004 version.  And now he can compare it with what he’s seen with his own two eyes.  I think the Marty Robbins song “Ballad of the Alamo” is one of the best songs ever written—still brings tears to my eyes every time.  After the Alamo, we crossed the street and, on a whim, visited the Ripley’s Believe it or Not Museum.  I’ve never been to one of those, though I’ve seen them here and there.  I doubt I’ll visit one again; two-headed sheep and men who can swallow their own noses just don’t interest me.  Still, though, we had fun, and that was the point.

After several hours of walking, it was nice to get in the car and drive for a while.  Got to Dallas in time to check in and soak in the hot tub for a while before dinner.  After camp food, seafood and Mexican food, Caleb wanted pizza for dinner, so pizza it was.  Then back to the room and bed.  Bed, but not sleep.  This particular Hampton Inn did not have an available room with two queen beds, so we shared a king bed.  By share, I mean that I got six inches, and Caleb laid claim (get it? “laid” claim?) to the rest.  He tossed and turned and thrashed all night like a monkey in a blender.  He has very sharp elbows and knees.  I have bruises.

The next morning I let Caleb sleep in—I figured one of us should get a good night’s sleep and be rested.  Then it was breakfast and the Dallas World Aquarium.  I really don’t know why they call it an aquarium, since less than half of their exhibits were of aquatic animals.  Lots of birds, and tree-living mammals, and birds, and reptiles and amphibians, and birds.  Lots of birds.  But, it was really fascinating, and we enjoyed it.  They even had a jaguar, which is the mascot of my son’s school, so that was cool.  On the way back to the hotel we drove through Daley Plaza, which was also cool, but I had absolutely no bearings, so I couldn’t tell which direction JFK was traveling, and where the grassy knoll was, and so forth.  I kept my windows rolled up, just in case.  That afternoon we pretty much just vegged—I watched t.v. and Caleb played games on my computer.  Might have been the best part of the trip for Caleb, but I hope not.  Then, we donned our feasting clothes.

If you have never been to a Medieval Times dinner, I highly suggest you consider it.  It is essentially a thematic dinner theatre.  They feed you (and quite well, I might add), and as you eat you are entertained with displays of falconry, horsemanship, jousting and cheesy combat, all done by people dressed in medieval garb and interspersed with equally cheesy dialogue and a thin story line.  It was great!  Get there early, though.  Dinner was at 7:30.  The doors opened at 6:00.  We got there about 6, and there was already quite a line (we had purchased our tickets online previously, which is the way to go).  While you wait, you can talk to the falconers and witness “knighting ceremonies” and purchase overpriced souvenirs and drinks.  I had a blast, and I think Caleb enjoyed it too.  The dinner and ambiance was not lessened in the slightest by our server who was clearly Hispanic and difficult to understand.  Hey, maybe he was from medieval Spain . . . .  I did feel a little ripped off when our knight—the Blue Knight—won the joust but lost to his opponent on foot.  Our knight was clearly the best.  Stupid, cheating, honorless Red and Black Knight.  If I had my broadsword . . . . I’d bite his legs off.  After the festivities were over, we returned to our quarters and to bed.  I spent the next several hours again assaulted by the epileptic monkey, and by the next morning I would have given a lot to sleep on the rack, or in the iron maiden, or any number of comfy implements of torture.

That day—yesterday—we packed up and started the long journey home.  The plan was to travel as far as Vicksburg and spend the last night camping, and get back to the house today (Saturday).  However, we got to Vicksburg shortly after noon and Livy (remember, my GPS?) told us that we were a mere 5 hours from home, so Caleb and I conferred and agreed to just press on to the old homestead.  I think maybe he’d had enough quality time with dear ol’ Dad for a bit.  And he didn’t want to miss Saturday morning cartoons.  I just didn’t want to spend another night trying to sleep in close quarters (tent) with Caleb.  We pulled in to our driveway about 6:30 or so, unloaded the car into the dining room, and headed back out to meet the rest of the family for dinner at Ruby Tuesday and regale them with tales of our journeys and exploits.

All in all, a marvelous trip (from this Dad’s point of view), and one I will repeat with my younger son in about five or six years.

I’d better start planning.

Perhaps that’s not the best title for this post.  There was a movie in 2000 called Road Trip.  This is nothing like that movie.  Rest easy.

Number One Son, Caleb, turns 13 on Monday.  Although he has not made a big deal of it, this is a big deal.  It begins his squireship into manhood.  In honor of this event, we have taken to the highways in search of adventure (and pizza). Four cities in four states in seven days.  Lots of time while driving to talk, laugh, and discuss significant issues which need discussion—issues such as communication, honor, service, relationships, and most importantly, his life in Christ.

We left Birmingham on Sunday morning, and had a relatively uneventful drive to Vicksburg, Mississippi.  Kicking off the “tourist” thing, we visited the Biedenharn Coca-Cola museum.  This is the first place in the U.S. where Coca-Cola was bottled.  If you really like Coke memorabilia, this is the place for you.  As it happens, I don’t care much for Coke memorabilia, and I don’t think Caleb does either, so this was pretty much a waste of time for us.

After drinking a Dr. Pepper, we moved along to the Vicksburg National Military Park.  (Side note: we wanted to visit the Vicksburg Battlefield Museum first, but it was closed on Sundays.  We may hit it on the way back.) The VNMP was pretty awesome.  The visitors center has a very, very cool map which shows the various maneuvers and battles leading up to and including the Siege of Vicksburg, all in colored lights.  Take my word for it: very cool, and very helpful.  There was also a 20-minute movie which was helpful.  After that, we drove the 16-mile(?) tour around the battlefield.  Quite fascinating.  (Also quite worrisome, as I had to keep an eye on the car’s temperature gauge—it kept running warm.  Hasn’t overheated, though, so maybe that’s normal.)

After VNMP and a quick trip to Wal-Mart, we headed about 30 miles south to Grand Gulf Military Park, where we spent that night.  This place, by the way, is another national park where a naval assault was fought, leading up to the battle for Vicksburg.  Interesting place, with a beautiful “primitive” campsite where we pitched our tent and built a huge fire out of old legal files that needed to be destroyed (heh).  Sausage and fried potatoes and onions and corn on the cob for dinner.  Stuffed ourselves.  Caleb cooked s’mores, too.  The weather was clear and the air was just perfect—slightly cool, but not cold—and we could see the start through the mesh at the top of the tent.

The next morning, it was scrambled eggs, french toast, thick-sliced bacon, and leftover sausage for breakfast (cooked on a camp stove, not at the local Waffle House).  Again, we stuffed ourselves.  You know Caleb’s stuffed when he won’t eat any more bacon.  We broke camp, took showers at the bathhouse (there was no way I was going to spend the day in the car with Caleb without a shower, and I have no doubt he appreciated my shower too), and pointed the car southwest towards Galveston, Texas.  Monday was mostly driving, and to be honest, Caleb slept a lot of it.  He may not have slept as well as I did the previous night.  Could have been the screech owl.  Took us most of the day to get to Galveston.  We might could have cut a few minutes off, but I forgot that Livy (that’s what I’ve named my GPS) was set to avoid toll roads, so she had to take me on lots of highways and through towns, rather than keeping me on interstate the whole way.  But I got to see a lot of interesting scenery that way—mostly industrial.  Learned real quick what a refinery looks like.  I have been all over Texas: East Texas, North Texas, the Panhandle, West Texas, the Texas-Mexico border, and, of course, Central Texas.  But I had never been to the Texas Gulf Coast before.  Very pretty and interesting—but not necessarily the parts I drove through.

Galveston is a very pretty town, and we checked in to our Hampton Inn about 5:30.  No camping that night, and it’s a good thing we didn’t.  Monday night we soaked in the hot tub for a while (had it all to ourselves), got quick showers, and drove to a local seafood place.  Again, we stuffed ourselves.  We found a Redbox, and upon returning to our room, Caleb watched Green Lantern.  I didn’t make it past the first scene.  He tells me it was good.

Yesterday (Tuesday) morning, we checked out amid news stories of the horrendous weather hitting Galveston.  Funny—it wasn’t raining.  So, we headed on over to the Texas Seaport Museum and the 19th century tall ship, the Elissa.  As soon as we stepped foot on deck, the heavens opened.  I mean, it came down in sheets (no pun intended).  So we got the full experience: we toured the ship in the pouring rain.  Funny: we had the ship to ourselves.  It truly was fascinating.  We could feel the ship rocking in the swell.  After disembarking the Elissa, we toured the TSM soaking wet, dripping water all the way.  I mean we were soaked through—jeans, jackets, shirts, shoes, socks, everything.  We may as well have jumped over the side of the Elissa.  After we got back to the car, we put towels on the seats, pulled dry clothes out of our suitcases, and changed in the car.

We left Galveston in the pouring rain, and soon drove out of it, heading to San Antonio.  It was an easy, relatively short drive, and we got here mid-afternoon.  We hung out a while, went swimming in a very cold pool, took showers, and then headed out in search of food.  Ate at Rosario’s Mexican Cafe and Cantina, about a 15 block walk from here.  Not your usual mexican food place, which was disappointing.  Caleb almost couldn’t find anything that looked good to eat, and I had a bit of trouble myself.  Still, though, we had a nice conversation with our waitress, in part about spiritual matters.  A lovely lady from Mexico, who has been here for 7 years.  Back to the hotel, and night-night.

Which brings us to this morning.  I have just woken Caleb up, and we are about to grab some breakfast before we check out.  Then we will spend some time at the Alamo, and perhaps some other points of interest (suggestions would be welcomed) before we head to Dallas this afternoon.

Caleb is ready.  Breakfast beckons, and the road calls.

Remember the Alamo!

My daughter, Hannah Beth, celebrated her 10th birthday yesterday.  Lots of memorable moments.  Her mother, the lovely and talented Donna, checked her out from school and took her to get a pedicure, and a smoothie, and to get her ears pierced.

But the most memorable moment, I believe, was when she won her school spelling bee.  HB is in the 4th grade, and was competing against approximately 18 other fourth and fifth graders in her elementary school.  As the winner, she will go on to compete in the city-wide spelling bee in January, where she will compete against other winners from the school system’s elementary and middle schools.  That means she will be competing head to head against kids who are in the 8th grade—who have been in school twice as long as she has.

She’s smart, beautiful, funny, and becoming a true woman of God.  She’s only 10, but I’m opening the bidding for an arranged marriage at 200 sheep, 500 goats, 50 oxen, 20 camels, and a pony (for her).

Going once . . . .

Attempts to manipulate me into forwarding e-mails, re-posting facebook crap, and so forth, usually by fallacious appeals to sympathy, faith, self-interest, patriotism, or whatever.  99% of the time, if I get an e-mail that prompts me to forward it, I automatically don’t, even if I agree with the e-mail.  I don’t care if the Pope and Billy Graham together appealed to me to forward an e-mail, it’s not going to get through my Inbox to my Outbox. I simply, viscerally hate it.

It’s my small way of rebelling against society.