When I first started this blog a couple of years ago, I had maybe two readers.  Now that I’m up to five, I thought it might be a good idea to revisit the thoughts and questions that got me started in the first place.  Kinda remind myself of the vision, you know? If you please, meander back with me to my very first post.  

Mine hit while I was standing at the bathroom sink.  It had not been a good day.  A virus was mocking my immune system.  My part-time “extra” job was giving me fits.  I had just been fired from my primary job–a job that I didn’t even like in the first place.  I was breathless from the walk up the stairs, and I knew I couldn’t blame it on being sick.  Feelings of failure, and weakness, and plain old ineptiosity were creeping in.

Then my wife, beloved of my heart, partner of my life, stood behind me at the sink and uttered the magic words.

“You have a bald spot.”

Mid-life crisis hit me right between the eyes.

In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been surprising.  There had been road signs; I just blew through them.  There was the day when I realized that I was too old for the draft.  It felt safe, but odd.  This led to thinking about other career possibilities that I had left behind.  Fighter pilot was no longer an option.  Neither was brain surgeon.  Pro sports had passed me by, as had fireman.  My immense acting and singing talents had yet to bring me superstardom, and though I was old enough to be President, it seemed a little late to start campaigning.

Then, I was driving along flipping through the radio channels.  I found a song I loved, and it was followed by another.  These were my songs, songs I grew up with.  Within ten minutes, I was fully devoted to this new station.  Just as I set the memory button, the DJ came on with the call sign.

It was an oldies station.  My songs were now considered a blast from the past.

But the hair.  The hair pushed me over the edge.

It occurs to me that the dreaded mid-life crisis does not have to be a bad thing.  It doesn’t have to result in broken families, sports cars, and comb-overs.  Am I nuts to suggest that perhaps this time in a man’s life is, rather than Fate’s cruel joke, God’s loving gift?  Think about it.  Shouldn’t a man take time, at the halfway mark, to look long and deep at who he is, and decide if it’s good enough?  I’m not just talking about how much money he makes or what he drives.  I’m talking about who he is.  Am I the kind of man I always wanted to be?  If not, what can I do about it?

Ephesians 4:1 says to live a life, “Worthy of the calling you have received.”  I have many callings: husband, father, son, teacher, learner, worshipper.  I want to be a husband worthy of the calling…a father worthy of the calling…you get the concept.

So here’s the deal.  I don’t have all the answers.  I have maybe four of the answers.  This blog will not teach you how to be popular, or attractive, or wealthy.  It won’t cure your hammer toe or show you the way to the perfect strudel.  What it will do is give you a partner for the adventure you’re already on.  Come with me as I search for a life that is intensely intentional.  Stumble along with me as we try to live a life worth living, a life worthy of the calling.

To those of you who have been rambling with me for the past 200 posts, I thank you–both of you.  For those of you just joining in, well, this is me.  During the week, I write One-a-Days, micro-devotionals with my stream-of-consciousness thoughts about Scripture.  On Saturdays I write…whatever is knocking at my brain gate and demanding release.  Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes I just think it’s funny.  Sometimes life isn’t funny, and so, neither is the blog.  But it is honest.  I hope you find it worthwhile.