the Quandry

W.W.J.D.
question or Command!?
But the Quandry. . . . . . .
Who is J.?
The indulgent god of
abundant life
weekly restocking the sale racks of
religious retail. . . . . . .
OR
The revolutionary Reverserer of
everything wrong
daily disemboweling the marketplace
lies about Love
perfuming the path of reality with
pierced feet




(photo: 3 of our children enjoying the colorful fountain in the central park on Market Street in The Woodlands, Texas. And no-- those aren't swimsuits!)

Fr. Cantalamessa

Yep-- me and Lily were up and at em at 6am. I took about fifteen minutes of foot pummeling in the bed before getting up with her and touring the grounds here. We've done most everything and it's just now after 8am. Finally, I am joined by the rest of the house.

Yesterday, I started reading a book I've wanted to read for some time now: The Mystery of God's Word, by Raniero Cantalamessa. He is the Preacher to the Papal Household. JP2 brought him in early in his tenure and Benedict has retained him. This guy preaches to the Pope every Sunday. So here's a newsflash-- Raniero Cantalamessa will be coming to our seminary to preach Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday this coming year. It's really unbelievable. Consider yourself invited via this post.

Anyhow-- he is a biblical theologian par excellence. He writes books in such a way that they must be read in the spirit of worship. Here is a sample.

"The Lamb who, in the Book of Revelation, advances to receive the book from the hands of him who sits upon the throne, and then braks open its seals (Rev 5-6), is a plastic image conveying that by his death Jesus has made the book of the Scriptures his own and that only he can completely explain them. The book has become his book; he has inherited it from the Father. All the words of the Law and the Prophets have thus flowed together, like so many drops of water, into the great sea which is the very Word of God, the Son." (p.9-10)

He seamlessly flows into Abrose as though he had been sharing a conversation with him. (and in a sense he has)

"Drink from the springs of the Old and New Testaments, since in the one as in the other you drink Christ. . . . Drink Christ, by drinking his words: the Old Testament is his word and the New Testament is his word. The Sacred Scriptures are drunk and the Sacred Scriptures are eaten when the sap of the Eternal Word descends into the veins of the spirit and into the powers of the soul. . . . Drink this word, but drink it in its proper order: first drink it in the Old Testament, then drink it straightway as well in the New." (p.10)

I'm about to head out to a Disney Woods Church tour to see what i can see.

FARMStrong on location

Hello Farmstrongers.

We're on location this week in Houston, Texas. Whole family has made the journey here on the occasion of the Texas Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church. Tiffani and I are ordained in this Church and an appearance at the annual meeting is mandatory. Anyhow-- we all flew down here (except Molly, the dog)last night and are staying with our dear friends, Kevin and Kerry Henson (+ Kayla and Luke)at the spacious mansion of their parents, Chuck and Judy Cauthorn. And yes, for those of you wondering, they do have a pool and I was in there at 7:30am this morning. Thankfully there is also a significantly hot hot-tub in which I shook off the early symptoms of anaphalactic shock. That Eastern Time Zone to Central Time Zone thing is all over us.. . . . . it's just 9:30 and we are already eating third breakfast.

Speaking of Houston, I learned yesterday along with the rest of the world about the stunning verdicts in the Houston Based Enron trial. Chairman and CEO, Ken Lay and Jeff Skilling, were both found guilty on most all counts of fraud and conspiracy and could spend the rest of their formerly rich lives in jail. Throughout the airports as newspapers ruffled I could hear numerous smug voices of satisfaction at their demise. I, too, lost some significant coin through the Enron collapse, being a minor stock holder. . . . . . . but still, I absolutely hate to see this happening to them. You can read some great analysis on the Enron verdict (not to mention the entire trial) at my friend, Houston attorney, Tom Kirkendal's amazing blog,Houston's Clear Thinkers.

We'll stay in touch.

How to be a Poet

Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
You must depend upon
affection, reading, knowledge,
skill--more of each
than you have--inspiration
work, growing older, patience,
for patience joins time
to eternity. Any readers
who like your work,
doubt their judgement.

Breathe with unconditional breath
the unconditioned air.
Shun electric wire.
Communicate slowly. Live
a three-dimensioned life;
stay away from screens.
Stay away from anything
that obscures the place it is in.
There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
and desecrated places.

Wendell Berry . . . . . . . from his latest collection of poetry. You can find it here.

AI v. POTUS

Yo FarmStrong Dogs! Check this out.

My friend Johnathan Page (and most faithful commentator, alias jp) sent me this link today comparing the voting in American Idol with the last United States Presidential Election. Confirms my thinking.

Sorry for letting the cat out of the bag for tonight--- but really. . . . . .was there ever any doubt.

Soul Patrol,

IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHO WON YET TURN DOWN YOUR TELEVISION AND DON'T CLICK HERE

And the American Idol is . . . . . . . .

Soul Patrol. . . . . was there ever any doubt?

RECAPPING FARMStrong on IDOL:

Check out the core values HERE. CRACKING THE CODES here.

Graduation Day (reflections)

Graduation Day has come and gone again for us here at Asbury Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky. It's always a "contrast in studies" for me. I mean, on the one hand, there's all the academic gowned status-oriented regalia. Who has what degree and what is it and where is it from and where is or isn't that in relation to everywhere else and what kind of honors were or were not attached to that degree and on and on we could go with the never ending "order of march."

Ok. Ok. So I'm at the end of the processional parade you say. That's why I'm ranting. I hope not. I've got my share of degrees and honors. One of the curious oddities of the commencement program was that my name and title were listed followed by the letters "J.D." for juris doctorate. For crying out loud-- what's that got to do with anything? I have an MDiv, a Masters of Divinity, from this very institution which has far more to do with being the Vice President for Community Life and the Dean of the Chapel than my Law Degree ?#@$.

So what's this growing blog post really about? Thanks for asking. Check this out: I over heard someone, an apparent guest, make this comment to another following the ceremony, "it felt a lot like the University of Florida." Shouldn't a Christian seminary be different?

A Seminary, a place preparing men and women for service in God's Kingdom, should be distinctive, and this distinctive should be abundantly apparent in the chief ritual that culminates our work each year. Every year, this thing gets on me, so this time I will blog it out. WE ARE A SEMINARY. Shouldn't that imply more than just different songs and an extra prayer or two? We represent the Kingdom of God. In this Kingdom, the God, (a.k.a. Jesus), puts ALL status aside, is born into poverty and lives in obscurity. Then he has the audacity to actually take that off and put on a towel and wash the feet of his own followers. His apparent final appearance was in a "line-up" between convicted criminals, nailed to a cross in utter shame and humiliation. His command: "Follow me!" What would a commencement ceremony really look like in that tradition????

Though our commencement parade is led by someone carrying the cross, somehow I don't think this is what he meant.

So it has become my practice each year during graduation to compose a poem as I sit there sweating underneath the robe and regalia for two to three hours. You can read last year's poem entitled "Perpetual Underclass" here.

I call this year's poem

Commencement ?

Regalia'd Parade
Humility or Pride
A lover's quarrel in
the unlikely marriage of
Academy and Church. . . .
So why not wear burlap
and limp
from wounds
of Apostolic battle
crying out,
"Kingdom Come!
Maranatha!
Jesus!"
?

Comment: As I sat there in the ceremony I couldn't help but remember stories of Saints who literally limped from their martyr-like wounds as they made their journeys to the Apostolic Councils of the first few centuries of the Church. Interestingly, at these gatherings they hammered out in excruciating ways the doctrines which form the substance of our teaching today.

American Idol. Cracking the codes

Have you ever caught the way Ryan Seacrest introduces the judges on American Idol each week?  He says, "Give it up for America's favorite dysfunctional family. . . . . Randy Jackson, Paula Abdul and (inserting some snide remark) Simon Cowel." 

With that comment, he speaks the truth far more than he even knows.  These four (including  Ryan) are indeed the classic dysfunctional family.

Consider this.  Simon is the "strict Father."  Paula is the "therapeutic Mother." Randy is the dutiful, loyal first-born son, often side-taking and/or peace-making in the midst of family disputes.  Most of the time he is trying to please "strict Father" with his evaluation.  At other times he is taking up for "therapeutic Mother."  Ryan plays the part of the rebellious younger brother who literally demonstrates his rebellion through his physical distance from the three and through his constant cynical remarks about strict Father (Simon). 

The idol contestants are the siblings who must perform their way into the family's favor.  They must conform to the family's values and dreams for them.  And the dysfunctional system demonstrates itself through the evaluation.  "Older brother" tries to come off as encouraging to please "therapeutic Mother," yet he tries to be honest in order to please "strict Father."  "Strict Father," the one everyone most listens to and most longs to please, combines brutal honesty with cruel demeaning humor.  When he does give a thumbs up it usually comes with a subtle spirit of reluctance and leaves everyone strangely self-congratulatory and actually liking him.  "Therapeutic mother" has no real objectivity, simply trying to protect the "kids" from the brutality of "strict Father" and "older Brother."  Sure, she "loves" "strict Father" it's just she can't stand him."  In the end, she is a spineless jelly-fish.  "Younger brother" has no real agenda other than to somehow side with the "kids" against "strict Father."  For him, being nice to the "siblings" is about getting back at "strict Father."  

"Strict Father" works through the strategies of shame, withholding and reluctant reward and he continually proves this reality:  he who loves least holds all the power.  He does it under the guise of "what's best for the kids" or for what will "make them their best."  But in the end, this kind of system is what produces false worship.  Do you see what is going on here?  The "kids" are actually worshipping Simon.  They are making an "offering" to him in hopes of being "blessed."  

In "America's favorite dysfunctional family" the core value is either pleasing "strict Father" or somehow defying him or proving him wrong through pleasing the world despite him.  Literally everything revolves around Simon, the strict Father.  And this precisely is the idolatry of American idol.  

Any thoughts from you idol-aters out there?  Are you seeing this picture?   

Idol-atry update: Bye Bye Mr. Tumnus (a.k.a. Elliot)

24--Road Trip

In Nashville for 24 hours or so with Chris Tomlin and Ed Cash as they make the new record. Some amazing music is about to be released. In immortal the words of Idol's Randy Jackson "Yo Dog!! AMERICA! WE GOT A HOT ONE!. Anyhow-- bonus-- got my first good night's sleep in 3 years at a local hotel. More on the recording later-- I'm trying to get in some of my "whistling" on the new record. They aren't buying to so far. Prayer partners unite. Some special art from FARMSstrong Cam coming soon too.

Anyhow-- I woke up with this poem and share it here, albiet in rough draft:

I love your
Love
Elasticity Endlessly
Permeation Completely
Fullness with room
Spacious
free
magnetic Holiness
evacuating me from darkness
leading my heart on a tour of BEAUTY
Gallleria of Love Divine
without exits
only rooms
songs
and prostrated paintings
bowing in adulated ecstasy
to a Raiment that could only
be sketched before.

Unbelievable IDOL-atry

who would have predicted chris daughtry would be booted from idol????

INSANE.

he was the clear champion.

RIDICULOUS.

Conundrum

Audacious vulnerability or
Vulnerable audacity
which forms the needed human capacity?
one parades as an open door
Other humbly outstretched on the floor
one says yes as suits the taste
Other's yes seems like a waste
one walks a thousand miles to show
commitment forged in the will to go
Other hides herslef in the cloak of friend
embracing the beginning in apparent end

This is one I wrote on VACATION. I still am not sure what it all means.

any thoughts here?

On the ROAD again.

And so our trip ends as it began. . . . . . .

Mega Gratitude to Grandy and Pop-- a.k.a. Maxie and Jerry Dunnam, who have hosted us all week in their Navarre Beach condominium. When you have four children under 5 you can count friends like these on one hand ( or less).

Thanks also to the condo owner who so generously provided us with broadband wifi internet access. That's a mark of the new hospitality of the Kingdom-- free flowing wireless broadband signals.

Special thanks to all 8 of you out there who have taken this journey with us. It's been a blast having you along and a blessing for us to remember in public. Stay tuned. I'm hoping this vacation can sustain the kind of blog joy it has led me to find.

And if you think of it-- say a prayer for us on the 10 hour car ride back today. Big week ahead.

a comment on poetry

Only the Divine can reveal Heaven on Earth.

But it's the work of the poets to point out those instances of on Earth as it is in Heaven. For this is revelation hidden in ordinary--steeped in every day trees and bushes. Cruciform fires beckon us constantly from our anxious worry and pragmatic hurry and yet our attention races on.

Poets play with words like legos. Pressing them together and pulling them apart until something good takes form and yet its form strangely only lives in the immediacy of its deconstructability. a better block here, another block there. And how will we ever incorporate that block? Oh- perfect!

Poetry, like Legos, is impractical construction. It's practice architecture, for it ultimately amounts to nothing. And yet poetry is the impractical speech that recreates the world. but only for those who will give their attention to a child's construction site.

(read more thoughts on poetry via the new link on the right side of the page)

Photo is of the Navarre Beach Holiday Inn over a year after Hurricane Ivan's visit.

I didn't look!!!

OK OK OK!!! Tons of you have called in and registered your interest in getting a look at baywatch fam. So here they are.

Beyond the Beach

Today, we visited the famous Florida Gulfarium, one of the oldest aquariums in the United States. In many ways, a primitive facility and yet in other ways, clearly the precursor to Sea World. Now-- obviously, these photos aren't about dolphins and sea lions. They lead me to another conversation altogether.

It's on the mixed up notion of love-- agape and eros. It's a longer conversation than can be opened here. But I witnessed these women within a few feet of each other-- in front of me-- watching a dolphin show. They both, through their attire are saying something about the nature of love. And I think they both make misstatements in their own way. Within about 15 feet of them was this photo which says it all.

BEACH RECONSTRUCTION

I wanted to show the unbelievable way they are rebuilding the beach on this island. As said earlier, the hurricanes last year nearly wiped the beach out. The large oil tanker pictured pulls white sands from the ocean floor miles away from the coast. The ship then takes the wet sand to a pumping station near the beach and pumps it onto the shore. They work 24-7 doing this for months now, rebuilding the 4 miles of island coastline.

Friday

Something about the ocean.
Takes two days to get there and then two more to actually get in. At least that's usually the case for me. It's so vast, so unpredictable and so stinking COLD. And there's just no way to ease into it. Yes, you can stay ankle deep in the sand, but that doesn't really count as getting in the ocean. But with a 5 year old SURFIN MACHINE you have little choice but to plunge in. . . . . . . 147 times. The kid from Baywatch fam the other day convinced David that hundreds of sharks are literally feeding just off shore between lunch and dinner and so we do most of our surfing in the morning. But between 8:00am and Noon you can ride quite a number of waves. So anyhow-- I will say that for me, getting into the ocean constitutes a kind of death. But once you get past the 20 degree drop in body temperature, it's loads of fun. The real blessing has been the kinds of conversations we have enjoyed somewhere between the sharks and the shoreline.

For My Wife (Prov. 31 remixed)

Quotidian Babe
Hides what I see
Ordinary dwelling in mystery
Makes the coffee
Takes out the trash
Nurses babies
Generates Cash
Changes Diapers
Washes 5 heads of hair
Earned PhD
in the school of care (and share)
Wal-Mart make-up
Chicly styled
Untamable spirit
laughter wild
Her practical wisdom
eschews my rhyme
as she builds a home
in the heartland of Time

Thursday

Why does noone ever comment on my poetry?????

Beach Walking

Narrow place
on the shoreline
Heaven walking
tween
soupy sand and
nothing firm
foot prints light
gliding ease
unencumbered pace
narrow place
New Creation Incubation
forming Land
from water and sand
again and again
every new wave
a place to stand

Can I find this place inland?

Wednesday

Another great day of VACATION on "da beach." btw-- "da beach" is the phonetic spelling according to Lily (2). Another early start. It's amazing when you wake up and think you slept in till at least 9:45 only to find that it is 6:39. That's a whole lot more waves to deal with.

Today we were joined by "Pop" a.k.a. Maxie Dunnam. As you can see from the photo, everyone was glad to see him. Jerry's been a real trooper. Navarre Beach, a tiny strip of sand on the outer coast of the panhandle of Florida, was literally wiped out by Hurricane Ivan. Just off shore, a massive oil tanker hauls wet white sand to a pumping station where it is pumped through a pipeline onto the shore and spread out to "recreate" the beach. It's unbelievable really. It's all at once a sign of the ingenious perseverance of the human race in the face of complete futility. (i.e. rebuilding the beach in time for hurricane season).



Today was sandcastle day-- only we decided to build a Temple complex. As you can see from the photo, this one is an exact replica of the Herod's first century BCE Temple Mount. We built it on a scale of 300:1.

Tiffani met and greeted new family #10 today on the beach. I'm calling them the Baywatch fam (photo unavailable). ;-) We'll just leave it at that and call it a night. Maybe i'll close with some beach poetry later.

Ok. . . . OK. . . . . I know some of you, from seeing the photo above, are going to inquire--- how could I really be that bronzed so early in the week? It's kind of a reverse farmer's tan I've got going on there. ;-)

Twinkle Update

Ok-- after being flooded with email and calls, we felt obliged to give a STARFISH update. AUSCHWITZ was perhaps a bit strong. You see from the photo Twinkle has ocean simulated conditions and her bowl is frequently moved to keep her out of direct sunlight throughout the day-- not to mention the almost constant petting she receives from six tiny hands.

I mean, don't get me wrong, the odds aren't good, but we're keeping her comfortable.

More to come later.

Morning Treasure

We named her twinkle. Poor thing went from a nice morning tossed gently in the frothy surf straight to AUSCHWITZ!! Some of the neighboring beach combers swore she was on the endangered list---but that could not be confirmed by the resident starfish expert (yes-- you guessed it-- The Tiff) So let's just say Twinkle the Starfish got Tiffed.

We just couldn't believe Mary Kathryn was so bold to actually pick up the little creature. Lily also made a grab for it-- until she determined it was alive.

Now for a more spiritual thought: Did you ever consider that God put stars in the sky and in the ocean-- the highest place and the lowest place.

Red Moon Rising

The amazing simplicity of the beach is the unrelenting constancy of the waves. They just keep on and on and on, never stopping. Since we've been here, wave on wave on wave crash on the shore. It's a great metaphor for the Spirit of God. Flowing, coursing, crashing, wave on wave on wave.

In light of that picture, I want to share a bit from a book I've been reading while here. Jonathan Diggs, a new student at Asbury, graciously gave me this book a few weeks ago. It's called Red Moon Rising, How 24-7 Prayer is Awakening a Generation.

The book really traces the movement back to Hernhut and the 125 year 24-7 Moravian Prayer Movement. Many of you will recognize this as the proximate cause of the Wesleyan revival in England. This book is stirring up a lot of waves in me. A few quotes.

"A generation that finds itself in the crux of such a change has a significant responsibility for shaping the new ways of thinking that will define its own age but also that of the coming era. When Christians get it right at such times, adapting themselves tot eh changing culture and finding new language for timeless truths, the Gospel spreads more easily for years to come because it makes sense to people. However, when the Church gets it wrong by resisting change and enshrining nostalgia, we risk apparent irrelevance and an upward struggle." (p.22)

"the opportunities presenting themselves to us at the dawn of the third millenium are no longer those of the great, post-war stadium rallies. Our opportunities are those of the World Wide Web, budget travel, the rise of tribalism, and the postmodern desire for community, authentic spirituality and social justice." (p.74)

"With just ninety verses in the Bible about music and 375 about prayer, we are long overdue for a cultural revolution in teh way we pray--not just in order to keep up with the changing times, but also, as we shall see, to be truly biblical in the way sin which we wait upon God." (p.85)

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water. . . .

OK-- I don't mean to neglect you Idol-aters out there. We did watch tonight-- entire family-- VACATION treat. Elliott-- a.k.a. Mr. Tumnus, "just ok" tonight. Chris-- David calls him the "rock star" totally went to the top with the Styx Renegade act. Paris-- probably on the way out. Katherine-- will be a finalist. Taylor-- the wedding singer still hanging on--- love that guy-- play that funky music was out of the park.



Now back to VACATION. My wife is amazing-- some readers in Malaysia have been requesting to see some photos of her. Strange I never put her up here. So if we can get this bootlegged wifi signal to upload the pics we're in business. We may have to wait for someone in the condo complex to go to bed in order to get some more signal. We'll see. Anyhow, photo #1 was early in the day. We're all still fresh and having fun. But I should warn you-- the inevitable did happen.

It was late in the day-- sun was setting. We would have been well served to have packed it up and headed in--- but we didn't. I noted Lily's swimming suit was hanging really low to the ground. . . . . . I mean really low. So Tiff, the most amazing woman on the beach, with the baby in one hand, takes her free hand and single-handedly removes Lily's diaper--- sight unseen-- WITHOUT EVEN REMOVING HER SWIMMING SUIT FIRST!! It was a feat of post-modern motherhood. Stunning. I have been reviewing the slow motion instant replay on the video-cam all evening. WARNING-- diaper is off now-- Lily is going commando. I noted that after the diaper was gone, the swimming suit still sagged pretty badly. Empty-- yet sagging. Lets just call it another premonition. So the Vesper hour goes on. We're having a nice time. Tiffani has just greeted her ninth new family of the day and is getting life stories. (too bad she's not into some mult-level marketing scheme. we'd own the condo complex for sure). Anyhow-- we hear a shriek from. . . guess who. . . . . Lily. She is swatting at her now heavily sagging swimming suit. That empty space. . . . . . . it's now full. . . . . . . VERY FULL. She's swatting at it. David and Mary Kathryn are now mortified and beginning to shriek, running and jumping wildly. TIFF TO THE RESCUE. Again, baby in hand, with the other hand, she does a kind of twisting motion to the swimsuit, evacuating the excrement from the swimming suit without so much as soiling a finger. But now we have a problem. The beach is CONTAMINATED. Lily is squatting and pointing to the article just expelled from her swimming suit. David and Mary Kathryn are hysterical at this point. Tiffani picks up a beach scoop and plucks the poop from the sand and heads for the OCEAN!!?? I immediately arrested her with a barrage of shame-filled comments about polluting the ocean with poop that was sure to wash right back up on someone else's poor unsuspecting child. So she disposed of the specimen in the trash can.

That's Tiff-- who looks like a TOTAL MOVIE STAR in one pic and is scooping poop in the next.

The NASCAR boogie board incident. . .

Another great day of VACATION. Actually slept in to 7:38 this morning. Quickly we made our way to "da beach." But not before a short photo-shoot. I wanted you all to see that NASCAR boogie board--complete with flames. We had a near tragedy yesterday when I herded all the kids in the elevator while holding the NASCAR boogie board. I was counting them when the door closed and all of a sudden the rope attached to the board got real tight. I found myself being pulled toward the now closed elevator door. Up we went. Something had to give. The rope snapped and David screamed in agony. His brand new boogie board-- apparently ruined. The handy-dandy velcro strap severed and descending down the chute into elevator hell. I felt so bad. What's really strange is that I had a premonition this very thing was going to happen about fifteen minutes before. Felt kind of like an episode of Medium or something. So now I'm being quite careful about my thought life all of a sudden, as in WHAT'S ABOUT TO HAPPEN NOW!!! (happy ending-- on a longshot I took the elevator back down later and to my surprise, still clenched tight in the other elevator door was the little NASCAR boogie board velcro wrist strap. I put one of those cubscout square knots on it (only knot i can actually remember-- over-under-under-over). As you will observe in the ACTION PHOTO below, it's better than new.

The Longest Day. . . . .

is over. And what a day it has been. The photos tell the story. After a long day on the beach, we made our way to Putt-Putt Island at 10am for a quick 18 holes before a binge in the local arcade. About 25 tokens later we found ourselves hungry. No-- not breakfast. . . . . . . second breakfast (that's Hobbit-speak). Ok-- so we went to Wendy's. Fast Fod Vacation Nation. My wife, Tiffani, has the most stunning gift at feeding our family fast food for under $10. It's amazing. Ok-- we all leave a bit famished, but we feel good about somehow and then we spend the afternoon eating fruit roll-ups. Ok-- it was $12 after she went back for the ExL Frosty which we split 7 ways. (yes-- she brought 7 water cups back). Enjoy the precious moment with Lily (photo).

It get better-- there's the all important stock up for the week trip to WAL-MART. Grandy and I decided to fill up two carts of groceries while Tiff and the kids had Christmas again. We were wondering how they managed to stay so content the whole time. THEY WERE BUYING EVERYTHING IN THE STORE!!! David came out with this NASCAR boogie board and Mary Kathryn had a Baby Alive diaper kit-- I could go on. Anyhow, $268 later we were back in the car. Oh yeah-- did I mention the amazingly cool NASCAR sunglasses the Tiff bought for me? They're not exactly my prescription, but they work.

Next Tiffani wheels the van into the local Gulf Breeze Methodist Church where she apparently talked the nursery out of one of their pack-n-play baby beds. She rules.

let me wrap-- we spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to get sucked in by the ferocious undertow of the waves. It was a blast.

Time to hit re-set.

What's wrong with these pictures???!!!

I should point out the camera time settings are on Eastern Time and we are in the Central zone.

We couldn't wait. . . . . . Tiff probably spent a total of 3.2 days on the telephone with Delta agents working to finagle frequent flyer point tickets for our long awaited trip to "da beach." She booked them-- count em--5 tickets (not including Samuel) at 50,000 points a ticket. Our flight was to leave today at the nice leisurely hour of 11am. We packed on Saturday and would have our Sunday to relax and rest up. But Saturday night, in literally the 11th hour, just before midnight, we made the completely irrational decision to DRIVE!! So the day of rest was traded in for a 11 hour Van ride. We got here last night about 6pm and yes-- went straight to the beach for our first bucket of shells.

It's now just after 7am and believe it or not-- I've already had a full day. It started at 3am when Lily woke up in the foreign baby bed screaming for me to rescue her. I promptly put her in my bed where she proceeded to kick for the next several hours, exiling me to the 1/8 inch margin of the otherwise very comfortable Hampton Inn Bed. (ever been in the position at the end of the bed where you have to flap up the hotel duvet to attempt to shield yourself from the freeon actually blasting from the hotel air-conditioner?) I'd say the vacation is off to a great start! ;-) Anyhow-- I tried switching over to David's bed and he did the same #*@% thing--somehow managing to take up the entire queen sized bed with his 3'10'' frame. I think God must with me because I feel strangely energized. (11 hours of driving in the RAIN + 2 hours of sleep = Holy Spirit power.)

So David has already looked out the window 8 times now waiting for the neighboring putt-putt golf course to open up. PlayHouse Disney is on the television, the clock radio is on fairly loud (thank God it's country). We have already played 2 games of beach volley-ball in the room (see photo). Lily and I have been down stairs where I peeled the film off my eyes as we awaited the complimentary buffet to open. We had "hot choc" and coffee beachside waiting for the sun to come up-- sounds romantic?? it. . . . . . . WAS.

So now we are combing through our already growing shell collection, dancing to country music (seriously) and otherwise waiting for the group in the adjoining room to wake up. (Tiffani, Mary Kathryn, Samuel and Grandy--Jerry Dunnam). How could they sleep through such fun???!!!

VACATION!!!!