...being different.

On this my first blog I may ramble a bit, but my thoughts are that it isn't bad being different. My students would grade me down for not creating an outline from which this blog would develop. But that's okay. It's my first time.

Several years ago it became clear to me that I was diferent than others who were like me socially, chronologically, politically or even spiritually. For a while this was a frustration for me. My wife, Carol would sometimes just look at me, as if to say, "who are you or what do you mean". My daughters, Ann, Amy and Emily have each acknowledged in their own way that sometimes it is better to just talk to their mother, my wife... the "boss". That's okay. I understand. It's who I am and I'd go to Carol too. She is special.

I'm capable of being normal. I think. Yet, it isn't the norm for me.

My friends have "handy around the house" skills. They know how to fix things and better yet, they usually know whats wrong with things. Often, they are more than willing to tell me what's wrong with things. Not just my things, like my ten year old Saturn with 170,000 miles, but they are usually willing to tell me what's wrong with education, government, our local hospital, music, St. Joseph (my chosen city to live in for the last 43 years), religion, people whom they classify as "illegal" and, well the list goes on and on and on. For some reason I nearly always disagree with them. Sometimes I speak up, but usually I take the easier route of keeping my mouth shut.

At work, people look at me differently. I'm not sure if it is my age, larger waist size, style of dress, that I'm "old school"...did I say that I am old? or what. I don't think they dislike me. But they treat me as if I am different. Maybe I am. Sometimes there I think I need to keep my mouth shut.

I love attending my church. I particularly enjoy my Sunday morning Bible Study class. But guess what. As much as I love my Church friends and the enrichment they offer me I am painfully aware that I am different from the majority of them in many ways.

Today I marveled at my pastor, Josh. Most sermons are 20 minutes in length. Josh's sermons are usually 30-35 minutes in length. Today he read to us from his prepared script with hardly a peek at his faithful congregation. That's okay. It always begins that way. Then it happened. He looked up, stepped out away from the security and comfort of his prepared sermon and podium. He looked at us and POW! It happened. It always does. The words began to flow with a beauty of language that seemed at times poetic and at other times the experience seemed almost surreal. It wasn't memorized, but it was powerful. I sometimes think that he dooesn't know what he is going to say at these times, but it happens, and it is awesome. I find it inspiring and motivational...or at least the first twenty minutes. Josh is definitely different and I am thankful and blessed that he doesn't keep his mouth shut.