Lessons Learned

 

Draining the motor oil out of an automobile as...

When you assume…

I have mentioned before that I’m not what you, or anyone you know, would call “handy.”  One of the problems that comes with being less than fully “ept” is that one tends to trust any man with coveralls or a tool belt to automatically know what he is doing.  I know I shouldn’t oughta, but I do. Last week I paid an annoying price and learned some valuable lessons. Continue reading

The Decider

The famous "The Buck Stops Here" sig...

The buck stops here.

I didn’t make that up, just so you know.  When I was a kid, I figured that phrase had to do with making money.  I thought, “Woohoo! That’s right—let the buck stop right here, Baby! In fact, make it lots and lots of bucks!”

I have since learned that the phrase has an entirely different—and less pleasant—meaning. Continue reading

Family Worship

 

Praying Hands

O.K., this time there will be no rabbit trails.  In my last post, I started to talk about our family’s worship experience, and I got distracted by the issue of sleep.

I love sleep.

Anyway, it is a bit ironic that I got distracted when I was talking about worship.  You see, my family always gets distracted when we attempt to worship. Continue reading

I’m Trying to Sleep, Here

 

What does my family have against sleep, anyway?

One of the many great things about homeschooling is that there is some flexibility in your schedule.  The kids don’t have to get dragged out of bed at 0-Dark-Thirty to make it to school on time, so it’s OK to stay up a little later on occasion, and simply sleep in a bit.   This is a tremendous blessing for everyone in the house except the guy who does have to get out of bed at 0-Dark-Thirty to get to work on time. Continue reading

Many, Many Candles

Part of this year's twenty. Geez, I'm getting old.

It’s birthday season, and that is always a dangerous time for me.  Not only is there the fire hazard, there is the potential for the Crisis to rear its ugly, balding head. You know exactly what I mean.  Men look at each birthday as a yardstick, measuring where we are in life against where our friends are, where our colleagues are, or—most dangerous of all—where we thought we would be by now. Continue reading